Such pretty dolls

I and Yashika enthusiastically embarked on doll pilgrimage. What better way to spend International Doll's Day.

Two initiates in doll-cult enjoying an amazing collection from around the world. Dolls dating back to 1700s. Dolls gifted by royalty. Dolls depicting traditions and trends. Dolls intricate and dolls, crude and rudimentary. Dolls with broken parts and dolls finished to perfection. Antiques to modern. Collector's dream. Nation's treasure. Awe inspiring.

One section hosted life-size dolls from across Eurasian regions. Almost every doll there seemed alive. Even the three seated at centre stage. Though with their disheveled looks, blackened eye sockets, grim looks and soiled rags, they looked horrifying. Like they had been taken out of some horror movie. Looking at them made us uncomfortable so we hurriedly moved to next display.

For a fleeting instance, I felt the focus of those ghostlike dolls shift. Following my movement. I disregarded the feeling.

There were prettier dolls to look at and I started concentrating on the collection again. But those black eyes never left me. I felt they were watching my steps and marking my moves.

By the time I was ready to move on to next display, the other visitors had left. The hall was soundless. No rushing feet, no clamor of kids, no excited shrieks.

Where was Yashika? Where was everybody?

I rushed through the aisles, searching for both Yashika and exit door. The mobile network ditched me. A frightened mind commits many mistakes. Instead of moving towards exit, I had somehow traced my steps back to that miscellaneous section with those scary dolls.

No!

I moved away from them.

But ghostly scary dolls stared from every aisle, every section.

I was alone in a large lonely hall with scary dolls all around me.

Then a doll from some aisle laughed. Loud. Raucous.

More laughter followed. All dolls joined in.

Then the one seemingly from The Child's Play started moving towards me.

The others followed.

In a practiced beat.

I backed.

They marched.

I backed further.

Further and further until I stumbled.

Then I was dead and dolls were gone.

Wait.

I was not dead but the dolls were gone.

Or

Maybe I was dead but dolls were still there.

Muddled. Messed up.

Then I heard my mobile ringing.

Dead people don't have mobiles. So I was not dead. I had not fallen.

Happy Doll's Day, doll. Wanna visit the doll museum? Yashika raved.

Some nightmare!

I was totally distracted. Yet Yashika rambled on. Until she convinced me to meet her. To celebrate international doll's day. At doll museum.

Despite my misgivings, we embarked on our tour enjoying an amazing collection from around the world. Collector's dream. Nation's treasure. Awe inspiring.

One section hosted life-size dolls from across Eurasian regions. Almost every doll there seemed alive. Even the three seated at centre stage.

Such pretty dolls, I vouched before Yashika could comment anything and dragged her on to next section.

But in that fleeting instant, I swear those dolls winked.

TRUST ME !

Linking with Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes Prompt Challenge #12