Do not ever visit that house.

You couldn't remember who said it to you first; all you knew was that it was a warning the entire town was aware of.

The house was right at the end of Black Street, a cul-de-sac that never saw any find of traffic. It wasn't unsurprising, since the entire street carried an eerie aura. Everything down there was completely silent; it was almost as if the trees, bushes and houses were waiting in anticipation for something to happen.

Enter that house and you'll never come out, that's what they say.

Some of the neighbourhood kids would occasionally dare each other to sprint up the front porch and knock on the door, but none of them were ever brave enough to actually go inside.

Last night...

You swallowed harshly. You rather didn't want to think about last night. Even more so, you weren't particularly inclined to continue with what you were currently doing - creeping behind a huge tree a couple feet away from the house.

But what kind of best friend would you be if you just left Pete there?

✧✧✧

Everything had happened so quickly. You had gone over to Pete's place after school, since his parents were out at some or other event, and he had the house to himself.

It was the usual - watch a couple movies, smoke a cigarette, order pizza... but then there was nothing left for you two to do.

So Pete suggested, "Let's go to that house."

No one ever had to say which house they were referring to - 'that house' was enough.

"Are you crazy?" you exclaimed, looking at him with wide eyes, holding the last slice of pizza halfway up to your mouth.

"Are you scared?" he countered, smirking smugly.

"I'm not scared of anything and you know that," you defended with a frown.

"Show me, then."

You didn't have a choice after that.

The two of you made sure that Pete's house was locked and secure, then hurriedly walked the few blocks to the house. It was a dark night; the moon was hidden behind a mass of clouds, and quite a number of the streetlamps you passed were dead. The setting definitely wasn't an ideal one, but you had to admit that it increased the thrill factor massively.

"Scared yet?" Pete nudged your arm. He was laughing, but it failed at masking the hint of terror in his voice.

You blew a raspberry. "'Course not. But I'm definitely not going in."

"Then I'll show you that I will."

You were already across from the house, behind the huge oak tree - how had you gotten there so quickly? There were no lights burning inside, only darkness all around.

The house had originally belonged to old man Nel, but ever since his death two years ago, it stood empty.

As far as anyone knew.

"For the last couple of days, I've felt like I should go in there," Pete said, waking you from your haunted trance.

"Pete, leave it," you urged. Now that the both of you were standing in front of the house, you had a terrible feeling about the entire situation.

"No, it's like it's calling me," he replied monotonously. You looked at him worriedly; his eyes were dead.

Before you could stop him, Pete reached out and opened the spiked front gate. Despite the fact that you wanted to pull him back, your arms were dead weight, and all you could do was watch as your friend treaded down the garden path and up the rotting wooden porch steps.

Pete stopped in front of the door, hesitating as he gingerly curled his hand around the doorknob. The door swung open with a creak and in the blink of an eye, Pete had vanished inside.

And the door slammed shut.

✧✧✧

Beyond terrified, you could barely breathe. But you had to. You had to push through. For Pete.

Slinking out from behind the oak tree, you shakily opened up the front gate. Just like last night. Now you knew how it felt. The house was calling you.

There's an upsetting amount of dolls. That's another thing you had heard someone say - someone who had been brave enough to peer through the window at the back of the house.

Old man Nel used to be a dollmaker. The town would say that he had to do it, because no one wanted to socialise with him. It was a bit sad, in all honesty.

Were the dolls still there?

You'd know in a minute.

Today had been the worst day of your life. Pete's parents were beyond devastated, and the police were asking an exponential amount of questions.

You wanted to tell everyone what had happened, but you couldn't. Each time you tried, it was as if your vocal chords had disintergrated - just like when you had tried to call out and stop Pete from going into the house.

All you could do was run home. On your own, in your safe bed, you somehow managed to fall asleep. When your parents eventually woke you up, asking if you knew where Pete was, you lied and said that you hadn't heard from him that day.

It pained you to have to lie, but no matter how hard you tried, you could not bring yourself to tell what had really happened; your tongue hung numbly.

And the entire day, you knew that you had to go back this evening. It was your turn; you had to make things right. You had to do what Pete did, because how else would you be able to save him?

Save him from what? You had no idea.

You had waited until your parents had fallen asleep - until it felt as if the entire town was asleep - then you snuck out through your bedroom window and ran down to the house.

You were already at the first step. And then you were on the porch. By the front door. Gripping the handle, you pushed it open.

It was dark and musty. The house made you think of a coffin, as if you had lifted the top and were preparing to climb in.

For a moment, you stood in the doorway, waiting until your eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness.

"Pete?" you called out softly.

You knew that there wouldn't be an answer.

But it came anyway.

"(Y/N)?"

The sound of Pete's voice made you jump. You yelled out. "Pete! Where are you?"

As loud as a gunshot, the front door shut behind you. A scream pushed its way up your throat, but you bit on your lip to silence it.

"Pete?" you tried again, but this time there was no response. Had you only imagined it?

You were at the beginning of a long hallway. Right at the end was an open door, and there was likely a window through which the silvery moonlight was shining, allowing you to see where the hallway came to an end. Maybe that's where the voice had come from.

The planked floor cracked beneath your feet. You walked past two doors. The one to your left opened suddenly and...

No. It was your imagination. You were so on edge that you were expecting things to happen every moment, even when they weren't.

"Pete?"

No answer.

Coming up on the open door, you peeked inside. Maybe Pete was in there, tied to a chair. You would have to free him, and then the two of you would sprint your way home.

That's when you saw them.

Dolls. An entire room full. They were made of porcelain; you could see the way their faces shone in the moonlight. There was no furniture in the room, just dolls. They sat in heaps all over the floor, at least a hundred of them.

All of them were abnormally large, and all had the same face: white with big eyes, mouths open slightly. The only things that differed from doll to doll was the hair type and the clothing. Some had long hair, some had curly hair, and some were bald; just like real-life people.

And they wore different clothing. Not all of it was nice, even though there were a few with pretty dresses or formal trousers.

"Pete?" you whispered, ignoring the tremor in your voice, "Are you here somewhere?"

The dolls weren't only on the floor - there were also six on the mantle of the fireplace. You surveyed them, your breath hitching when your eyes landed on the sixth one. That one's clothes...

But you couldn't be sure, so you stepped closer.

A horrible chill went wracked your body - it was Pete's clothing. The doll was wearing it.

And the doll had Pete's dark, tangly hair.

And... your blood ran cold... Pete's eyes.

"Pete?" you choked out. You felt like you were about to scream.

The Pete-doll's face was expressionless, except for the eyes, which looked at you yearningly.

The mouth opened slowly. "I... need... souls."

It wasn't Pete's voice. Even at this very moment, when you were more afraid than you'd ever been, you were able to piece together whose voice it was.

It was old man Nel's.

I need souls.

You had no control of your hands; they grabbed the Pete-doll tightly. You had no idea what you were looking for as you handled the doll all over, but then you found a screw in the middle of its back. A screw with which the doll could be wound up.

"Pete, please," you begged, "I came to save you."

"Save!" old man Nel laughed, his voice coming through the doll's mouth.

Hurriedly, you wound up the doll. You let it fall from your hands, but it never reached the ground - because it began to grow.

Within seconds, the doll was standing upright. It was Pete standing in front of you, his eyes as dead as they had been the previous night.

But when he spoke, his voice was still not his own.

"You must swop places," the voice croaked, "that's the only way you can save him."

Frozen in place, you watched in horror as the doll shuffled toward you.

"Your friend is lucky. It's a shame he won't remember you."

The next moment, you were grabbed. Pete's grip was abnormally strong, and you couldn't break free from it.

Your breath vanished. Everything around you was spinning, even the dolls that were scattered around the room, watching you. Your vision began fading to black, and your ears were ringing; the only thing you could still manage to hear was old man Nel's voice, so close that you could feel the ghostly breath on your cheek.

"Welcome to the dollhouse."

✧✧✧

You opened your eyes slowly.

The sunlight shone through the window in harsh rays, and a realisation dawned on you - it was morning, and you made it through the night.

For a moment, you were worried over the fact that you were still in the house, worried that they would get you. Then you noticed that all was quiet, and the danger had passed.

You were alive. Thank God - it was just a dream. Now, all of last night's ordeals seemed silly to you. A creepy house like this could make someone imagine all sorts of stupid things. The sooner you got out of there, the better. You just had to climb off of the mantlepiece and...

Your blood ran cold. Or at least, it would've run cold... if you weren't dead.

Sitting there between other dolls, you couldn't move. All you could do was look. You stared at your porcelain family with the white faces in heaps on the floor, but you couldn't even turn your head to look at those next to you.

The only thing left for you to do now, was to sit and wait, wishing that one day someone would come and wind you up.

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x