My grandma has a lot of dolls.
One time, I was spending the night at her house, and I got up to use the bathroom. I must have been around 5 years old. I had to creep through the doll room to get to there, and for some reason I was crawling.
Maybe to add to the adventure?
I was about half way through that room when I looked up, and realized that hundreds of eyes were staring at me.
HOLY FREAKING CRAP.
I got up, and ran as fast as I could! I was too scared to look over my shoulder, but I could feel them gaining on me.
I dashed into the bathroom, and shut the door. Panting, I triple-checked the lock, and my little body sagged with relief.
That was close. Too close.
I spent the next few minutes with my ear to the door, trying to hear what the dolls were planning. But they must have been talking really quietly, because I couldn't hear a thing.
Finally, my need to pee overruled my sense of self preservation, and I grabbed a toothbrush from the counter. I figured it would be a good weapon if they broke down the door. Then I climbed up on the toilet to do my business.
When I was done, I put my ear back against the door, and listened as hard as I could.
...Nothing. They must already be in position, ready to ambush me as soon as I opened the door.
I didn't want to die that way.
I'm not sure how many hours I spent huddled on the bathroom floor before I fell asleep.
In the morning, I crept back out to look at the dolls. It was just as I suspected. They had snuck back into their normal positions before my grandma could catch them at it.
They may have fooled her, but I knew the truth.
And they knew it, too.