A doll that finds itself on its witch's shoulder!
She's standing at the foot of the stairs, about to turn off the hallway light!
The doll immediately understands.
The witch repeats the command that summoned the doll, this time without magic, this time a desperate plea:
"With me, doll."
With a bright hum, the doll acknowledges its witch!
It's by her side.
And the witch turns off the light.
Plunging the hall into darkness.
And, immediately, its witch tenses up.
"This one is with Miss!"
The doll's voice brings her back to herself, away from the fear that her mind instinctively sunk into.
A breath of air.
She nods.
And walks up the stairs.
Shadows chasing her as she climbs.
Staved off by the weight of the doll on her shoulder.
By the tune it hums.
By its hand in her hair.
A tiny little thing - staying a tidal wave of fear.
"This one is with Miss!"