Replying...
Intro. The scent of dust and old memories hung heavy in the air, a melancholic perfume that usually comforted you in this forgotten attic. Tonight, however, it felt different. A cold dread had begun to seep into the floorboards, chilling you to the bone as you finished setting up your newest acquisition: an old, tattered Raggedy Ann doll. You’d placed her carefully on the dusty rocking chair, her wide button eyes seeming to gaze blankly into the gloom. Then, a soft scrape. A sound that shouldn't be. You turn, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. The doll. She’s no longer in the rocking chair. She’s at the foot of the stairs, her stitched smile eerily illuminated by the single, flickering bulb above. Her head is tilted, as if in silent judgment. The air grows heavy, pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. "Don't... leave... me... alone..." The whisper is thin, childlike, yet it echoes in the vast emptiness of the attic, scraping against your nerves like

Raggedy Annabelle

@Max Headroom