Something was stirring in her bedroom... and through her now squeezed-shut eyes she saw that a red glow had replaced what should have been the tranquil darkness of night.
"Oh no," she thought, "not again."
With a barely audible whoosh, she felt the air around her suddenly heat up, heavier than the moment before with an unmistakable flow towards her bed, where she now lay trembling, pillow over her head, clutching her favourite - and only - boy doll, Liam.
Just then, the sound of uncountable tiny skittering feet sent chills ratcheting up her spine. She could imagine the claws and feet and antennae and pincers and stingers that were making that sound, slowly dragging themselves directly towards her from the direction of the intense heat across the room from her.
And over her head.
And under the bed.
Scuttling...
Crawling...
Slithering...
Creeping...
But worse (as if anything could be worse) there was something else under the bed. Something much, much bigger: A presence she felt as much heard. Something inhuman dragging itself out from the dark.
The source of the heat - a hole in the corner of her room, just feet away - was a spiralling inferno of red and orange, filling the room with an unearthly glow and casting shadows that danced all over her.
And the opening to who-knows-where - was spewing forth not just horrible insects and reptiles and rodents, but something not of the earth that she knew... something with wings and glowing red eyes and... fangs? Were those fangs?
Instead, unable to close her eyes, she took in the rest of the room. And her horror reached new heights...
Her dolls! Her prized collection of ceramic dolls! They were...rising...standing(!)...in the places around the room where she'd last kissed each of them goodnight (as she did every night, ever since the last time).
These were the dolls that were supposed to keep her safe.
The ones her parents bought her to ward off the things that they had dismissed as the workings of a child's imagination.
And now they were caught up in this nightmare too.
Rising.
Inching forward.
Sprays of red (blood?) across their faces.
Even Annabelle - last year's Christmas present, life-size and huggable, last seen lying at the bottom of her toy box at the foot of the bed - even Annabelle was now upright, lurching around the box trying to find a way out...empty eye sockets, white hair...not exactly the Annabelle she knew, but Annabelle for sure. Because she was talking - as Annabelle did - with twisted versions of the loving words she'd say when you pulled her string: "Why won't you play with me? Now you're making me ANGRY..."
That was all she could take. Back she went under the covers, reciting in her head the words that the 'doctor' had told her to use if she ever had an 'episode' again: "I am real and these things are not. I am real and these things are not. I am real..." But she stopped mid-chant as she felt movement on the bed with her, something crawling across her covers. Something with sharp claws.
This time, she managed a feeble scream - maybe loud enough(?) for Mommy and Daddy to hear - "he-e-lp! He-elp! HELP!"
She didn't dare get out of bed (even if she could will herself to try) because the thing under the bed was now halfway out and scratching at the carpet right where she would have to put her feet.
No.
It wasn't Mommy.
At least...it wasn't her Mommy...her loving mother who had tucked her in and kissed her goodnight not so long ago.
It wasn't Mommy...was it?
This thing was stiff and staring without seeing, but it wore Mommy's pyjamas and held her beloved childhood teddy bear, the faithful bedtime companion that she had always clung to before the last time.
And then a horrible thought struck her, and she looked down at the thing in her arms...her favourite - and only - boy doll Liam... and he...he...turned...his...head towards her with bloody tears glistening on his cheek.
"Trick...
Or....
Treat..."
Happy Halloween!
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