A/n
I couldn't put a picture cause the ones I looked up were too creepy for me to keep looking in 'phobia of dolls'. *shivers* And if I just looked up 'doll' they looked too friendly. So yup. I'm a scaredy cat.

Harold: fear of dolls
I walked home from school with my big sister, Harriet, and her friend Lena. It was a splendid Friday afternoon, and I couldn't wait to get home and just relax and watch TV or play video games or toys. Our mother wouldn't be home until really late, so I was going to eat as much junk food I wanted.

The three of us held hands as we crossed the street. "If you don't get on my nerves, then I'll let you do what you want," Harriet said with a small smile. I beamed.

Finally we got home, and the girls went up to my sister's room. I went straight for a family sized bag of chips, then up to my room and played with my cars for awhile.

Eventually I switched to watching TV. And by midnight, I was tired, and dragged myself upstairs. I heard giggling from my sisters room and decided I'd say goodnight. Pushing the door open, the first thing I saw was an old porcelain doll, with brown hair, a fluffy dress, lips pursed in a permanent frown, and brown peircing eyes. It made me freeze in place. It lied on the ground by Lena's feet, staring straight at me.

"Harold? What are you doing?" Harriet got me out my trance and I walked in. "W-where'd that come from?" I pointed at the doll, it still staring into my soul it seemed. "This is my doll, Mary," Lena explained sweetly. "I have a lot of glass dolls at my house and I wanted to show my favorite, Mary, to your sister. Would you like to hold her?" "No no. I'm fine," I answered, stepping back into the wall.

"Haha he's fine, Lena." "Hmm. M'kay." She shrugged, and they continued talking about a couple of their class mates.

The doll still stared and I shivered on the inside.

Soon I slipped out the room, and to bed it was. I dreampt of nothing as I slept in pretty late. I woke up with the doll face to face with mine, and I screamed.

"Oh my gosh, you're such a baby," Harriet teased. "It's only a doll." I looked at it, doubting her last sentence. "What happened in here?" My mom asked as she walked in. "Harold is scared of my new doll." "Your new doll!?" "No need to shout," my mom gently said. "Yes, my doll. Lena is moving away, so we traded dolls so we'll never forget each other." "How can you forget your best friend?" "Shut up." "Language, Harriet. And can you go somewhere for a second?" Harriet scoffed and walked out. My mother sat on my bed, a hand on my leg. "Sometimes best friends need an object with sentimental value so they'll remember each other every day, Harold. And I know you don't quite like the doll, but its important to your sister, so please just try ignoring it, okay sweetie?" "...yes, mom." "That's my little man," she replied before kissing me on the forehead. "Now. Why is the family size chip bag in your room?"

That night I drifted off to sleep quite easily but was awakened in the middle of the night. My door was open... I always close it before I go to sleep. Someone had been in there... or was still in there. I looked around through the darkness but only saw my room, darkened by the night. "Hello?" I called, a bit scared, but still trying to be courageous. "Hel-" I was cut off by a scream and blinding light showing the doll at the edge of my bed. I fainted from the fear.

I woke up when Harriet poured water on my face and revived me. "Hey, I was only playing, Harold. You don't have to faint on me," she said with a smirk. I started crying. "That was you!?" She only laughed.

I got up and pushed her out the room throwing the doll into her arms and shutting the door. It kept running through my mind. That doll.
.. so evil against the flashlights illumination and permeating darkness in my room. It wouldn't stop playing over and over in my mind.

Harriet continued to tease me and scare me with the doll, and one day, I snapped from the fear. I had a knife and hammer as I went into my sister's room. She was hanging out with a friend, so at home it was only me and her dolls.

Though her other dolls weren't glass or even similar to Mary, I couldn't help but despise and fear them also.

Using the hammer, I smashed the doll to millions of little pieces, and with the knife, I cut up all her other ones that were plastic.

Then I played with my toy cars like nothing happened.

Harriet and I never had a good relationship again after that, and I will never get over my fear of dolls either.