The world has long since fallen silent. Cities lay in ash, forests burned to cinders, and the few who remained kept moving, always moving—fighting to survive.
He was one of them.
Dust clung to his boots as he crept through the ruins of a forgotten house, rifle slung over his back, breath shallow. Each room he cleared offered only emptiness—until this one.
It was a child’s bedroom. Untouched. Too clean. That’s what made him stop.
On a shelf, standing tall in eerie perfection, was a small porcelain doll—six inches at most, in a faded blue dress, her bonnet still pristine like the world outside hadn't ended. A Bo Peep kind of doll, eyes wide and glassy.
He stared.
And then—
It moved.
Just slightly. A twitch of the head. The sound of joints clicking softly into place.
He didn’t breathe.
“What the hell...?”
The doll slowly turned its head toward him.