{I decided to write about this, after watching a certain episode of Black Butler. "London Bridge is falling down, my.. Fair.. Lady..." Leave it to that show to reopen old wounds. (°_°)}

~Porcelain dolls~

NO THANK YOU.

I collect dolls/action figures, and other toys to use as stop-motion models. Monster High, DisneyStore dolls, Star Wars figures, you know, the typical posable toys.

They're cool and whatever, I like a good Monster High doll. I don't however, like the porcelain dolls.

You know, those freaky ceramic dolls with the cold, glass eyes. My Gramma has several, and they are not a pretty sight.

Every doll's head just kinda hangs limply to the side, and their arms are slack. The eyelashes fall off really easy, the dresses are moth-bait, and the mouth only has two teeth.

They are really, really creepy.

I've always had this fear, this idea that tortures me every time I go to my Gramma's house...

That one of those dolls will look up.

I'm never really worried about them chasing me, killing me- all that Chucky type stuff. No, I'm just terrified that they will raise their heads to look at me.

Instead of the limp body the pink-dressed doll always had before, that little glass girl will snap to attention and look up at me. I'll just be walking past, and suddenly BOOM her neck goes stiff, and she looks me dead in the eyes.

Silently watching me, daring me to blink. A terrifying staring contest, with an unknown penalty.

Or maybe another would do that head-spin thing that they do in horror movies.

She'd be facing the window, her back to me, when I'f hear the rubbing of porcelain on cloth. I'd turn to see her head slowly turning to look at me, while her body continues facing the window. The slow creak of the movement would cause me to do a 180 and find the doll in the yellow dress smiling at me, her head on backwards, just looking at me.

Perhaps the red-sweater-baby would start laughing without being tilted. It's unblinking eyes focused on the gates of Hell, or whatever demented location it was always staring off to. The only sound in the house would be the amused giggle of the red-sweater-baby, echoing down the hall.

*Aha-hue Aha-hue Ahahaha-haaaah*

Oh, and as an added bonus, guess who Gramma decided to assign them to in her will?

Me.

I'm going to burn those dolls.