The doll...

In a house at the end of a dark alley, a small doll rested on an old rocking chair in the darkest corner of the attic. His figure was an amalgamation of faded and torn scraps, with opaque glass eyes that seemed to follow every movement with cold, silent judgment. On Halloween nights, when the shadows lengthened on the walls thanks to the moon, the doll came to life. A soft tinkling of bells will alert you to her presence, and her laughter, beyond being happy, will be as chilling as her gaze...