So I've decided to take a crack at this writing-prompt thing.
Never done it before.
Don't know how it's gonna turn out.
But I figured why not, if nothing just to keep the creative juices flowing while I put together my next story:
Everyone Needs a Hobby
It happened, three doors down.
And it was all because of those damn dolls. How many did she have now? Fifteen? Twenty? Thirty? He saw her the other day, lugging in those suitcases, the small ones with the glass lids that resembled child-sized coffins. Each one held a doll inside.
Hey, everyone needs a hobby, right? he thought.
Once he'd passed her in the hallway, murmured a "hello" to her then did a double-take when he received no response. Her hair was done up in perfect, golden ringlets and the old velvet gown she wore was edged in lace and swirled around her feet. The look in her eyes was empty as if she were sleepwalking.
Had he been more observant, he would've noticed the blood soaking the hem of her dress.