My mother found her sitting in an antique shop window. An old worn China Doll that was covered in cracks. Without hesitation mum went into the shop, and haggled the lady down to a great price, judging by her excited glee as she handed over the cash.

Mum named her Dolly.

Her painted face was worn. Ruined eyes bobbled about inside the hollow sockets of her fragile head, clacking as they darted unpredictably around the room. The once vibrant smile, now faded, and just barely visible.

Mum placed Dolly next to the rest of her dolls, which were scattered around messily all over her bedroom. Mum was a doll fanatic, and it drove dad insane. He didn’t understand her obsession. And with each new doll she bought, an argument would ensue.

Ever since mum bought Dolly, her behaviour changed drastically.

Dolly seemingly moved around the house on her own. She appeared in the strangest of places, from the washing machine, to the garage. And I was hearing little pitter pattering of feet outside my bedroom door at night.

Months passed, and my parents relationship deteriorated. Dad made mum choose between him or the dolls. Mum chose the dolls!

When dad left, mum became completely detached, now thinking of her dolls as sentient things that listened as she sung them lullabies. She arranged the dolls in a circle on the floor, and placed Dolly in the centre, as she spoke to them.

One night I got up for a piss in the middle of night, and I heard mum talking to her dolls as she now normally did. Only this time, I heard something talking back! Each time my mother spoke, a high pitched voice would reply.

At first it was inaudible, but as I slowly crept nearer to her bedroom, my mother’s distressed voice became clearer, as did the other voice…

“I won’t! My mother said, through sobs.

“Yes you will!” The voice replied.

“But he’s my son!” My mother replied.

My heart beat in my chest, as I slowly approached the bedroom door, then I heard the strange voice again…

“Shhh, he’s coming!”

I walked into my mother on the floor, face glistening with tears. She looked in a daze as she stared at me unblinkingly. The dolls were in a circle in front of her.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Nothing. Go back to bed!” Mum replied.

“Why are you crying? I asked.

“Me and Dolly just had a disagreement is all,” Mum said, as she continued to stare.

“Mum, they are just dolls!” I replied.

Mum’s face became angry, and her pupils dilated…

“You shouldn’t have said that!” Mum shouted.

Suddenly Dolly’s head turned towards me, then the other dolls heads followed.

I recoiled back, and let out a pathetic whimper.

Mums pupils had become so large that her eyes were nothing but black voids, and she spoke in a voice so unnatural, and high pitched that it couldn’t possibly be her own…

“Dolly wants to play!”