Carla had always been fascinated by dollhouses, and when she inherited an old Victorian one from her grandmother, she was thrilled. She spent hours refurbishing it and decorating the rooms with tiny furniture and dolls. But as she began to play with it, strange things started to happen.

At first, it was just a feeling that she was being watched. But then the dolls started moving on their own, and the furniture would be rearranged when she left the room. She tried to ignore it, telling herself that it was just her imagination, but the eerie feeling persisted.

One night, Carla woke up to find that the dollhouse had moved from its spot on the shelf and was now sitting on her bedside table. The dolls inside were arranged in a circle, facing her. She could hear them whispering to each other, their tiny voices barely audible.

Carla tried to scream, but no sound would come out. She tried to move, but she was frozen in place. She watched in horror as the dolls began to move again, their joints creaking as they stood up and began to walk towards her.

She tried to close her eyes, but she couldn't. She was forced to watch as the dolls climbed onto her bed and began to crawl towards her. Their tiny hands reached out to touch her face, and she could feel their cold, lifeless fingers on her skin.

Suddenly, everything went dark. Carla couldn't see anything, but she could hear the dolls giggling and whispering to each other. She could feel them crawling all over her, their tiny bodies pressing against her skin.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. The room was silent, and the dollhouse was back on its shelf. Carla was alone, but she could still feel the cold, clammy feeling of the dolls' touch on her skin.

She tried to get rid of the dollhouse, but every time she threw it away, it would appear back in her room the next day. She tried to ignore it, but the dolls continued to move and whisper to each other, and she could feel their cold fingers on her skin every night.

In the end, Carla was driven mad by the haunted dollhouse. She spent the rest of her days locked in her room, surrounded by the whispering dolls that had become her only companions. And the dollhouse remained, sitting on her shelf, waiting for its next victim.