Dollhouse

I squinted in the black without much aid, the candle's flame cowering against the base of the wick. I know I was woken by a sound, and I thought it was a voice. But now that I was fully awake, it was as quiet as when I had fallen asleep. My heart raced, and I wasn't quite sure why. I mean obviously, I'm in the middle of nowhere, this town appears to be abandoned, I have no idea what happened to the original inhabitants, any of that should be enough to put me on edge. But truth be told, before I had gone to sleep, I felt as though I was on vacation. And the mystery of the townspeople had only intrigued me. Yet still, thinking about these things now, none of them made me immediately anxious. So why was my heart pounding? Why could I hear my pulse in my ears and my skin crawl? I imagined the little girl squatting in the corner of the room, grinning ear to ear, waiting for me to fall back to sleep. Or crawling on the ceiling, possessed. Silent and ready for another victim to play with, head turned unnaturally, staring down at me. Watching me go pale. Smelling my fear. If I were to bring the candle up to the ceiling, I could discount those wild imaginings immediately. But if she was there, ready to pounce, hungry? I would bring death upon myself faster. If she were planning to kill me either way, wouldn't it be better for me to know now, instead of suffering in my uncertainty any longer? Would she spare my life if I could resist the urges driven by my curiosity and fear? I fell asleep deciding. And in my dream, I heard a young woman's voice.