I keep hearing chanting from the children's room. I open the door to look. A doll was sat in the middle of the room, its glassy eyes dull. It's cracked fabric lips were moving, chattering: "Roses are red, Violets are blue, I've got a knife in the children's room."
It rose to its feet, a knife in its hand dripping with blood. It said, "Roses are red, Violets are blue, Now the door's open, I'm coming for you."
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