Thomas the doll

The heavy porcelain head of Thomas the doll sat on the top shelf of the antique shop,Timmy his painted blue eyes fixed on the entrance. He wasn't like the other dolls; his smile was just a fraction too wide, his stitched wool suit a little too pristine for a toy made in the late 1800s.When Elena bought him for her collection, the shopkeeper didn't give her a receipt. He just locked the door behind her, turning the sign to "Closed" while it was still noon.That first night, Elena placed Thomas on a rocking chair across from her bed. She went to sleep listening to the rain beating against the glass. At 3:14 AM, the ticking of her bedroom clock stopped. Elena woke up to a faint, rhythmic sound.Creak. Creak. Creak.In the pale moonlight, the rocking chair was swaying. Thomas sat exactly as she had left him, but his glass eyes seemed brighter. Brushing it off as a draft, she went back to sleep.The next evening, Elena came home late from work. As she stepped into the hallway, she noticed a faint trail of muddy, child-sized footprints leading from the living room directly to her bedroom. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She didn't own a cat. She didn't have kids.She slowly pushed her bedroom door open. The rocking chair was empty.Panic seizing her, Elena turned around to run out of the house. Standing in the middle of the dark hallway, blocking her path, was Thomas. He was standing completely upright on his tiny fabric legs.Before she could scream, a high-pitched, mechanical voice chirped from the doll's chest, though Elena knew he didn't have a voice box."Thomas likes his new home. But Thomas doesn't like to share."The bedroom door slammed shut behind her, locking with a heavy click. The lights flickered and died, leaving Elena in pitch blackness, save for two faint, glowing blue reflections moving slowly down the hall toward her.