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I wrote a short story from the perspective of a doll.

Toy story is a horror movie now

I need help. 

I don’t know where I am, or how I got here, but I can’t stay. One minute, I’m safe. I’m asleep, I’m in my box and the next I’m being dragged around like that loser Raggedy Ann from next door, up and down the walls by this… thing. 

It looks like me, but not like me. It’s huge, first of all, it wears it’s hair in two dopey pigtails.  It acts like it’s a human, but only a rabid beast would treat me the way it does. 

The pretty figure doll it stole from its friend is still under the bed. She talks to me sometimes.

“Your girl is a nightmare,” she says. “How do you handle it?” 

I wish I knew how to answer her question. The twin-tailed beast cut my hair, and often draws on my face. The other day she popped off my hands. 

The figure doll remains forgotten by the beast. She keeps me company at night. 

“My girl’s name was Bai He,” she explained. “I was custom made for her by her mother.” 

I would ask if her beast treated her kindly. She chuckled, and gently asked me not to call her “girl” a beast. I suppose that nickname will be reserved for my beast. 

The beast’s friend came back. It always wears a pink fishing hat. It seemed angry at the beast. I can’t understand their mindless babble, but it tore the room apart until it found the figure doll. 

They wrestled over her, pulling her back and forth like she was a rope until she snapped, right in two. 

The beast’s friend never came back. 

The beast and I were both lonely after that.

Bai He came to mind first for some reason, didn’t have time to switch, I wrote this in ten minutes, so uh… do whatever you want with that