I love old dolls, yet I have an imagination that tends to run wild. And if the doll has a crack running from its glassy eye to its toothy grin, well, that's fodder for my story.
One day as I sorted through a box in the attic, I came across my dollhouse dolls from many years ago. Time hadn't been gentle, and now the doll family resembled tiny zombies.
Thus the short story, Tiny Dolls, was hatched.
Enjoy!
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