Doll, by Ian Gough

Glass eyes pierce the darkness, staring at her from behind porcelain cheeks. Cara imagines a head full of golden curls turning toward the bed. China lips cracking into a grin. Tiny hands clench, creating a sound like fingernails scraping over the surface of a chalkboard. She hears a swish. The dull thud of delicately crafted feet, padding across the carpet chills her. Duvet clenched between white knuckles, Cara’s shaking fingers pull the cover over her head. Hoping, praying for salvation. She knows they come alive at night. It reaches the bed. If only she can survive until dawn…