Dolls are alive. This much the people of the small village nestled in the middle of nowhere knew to be true, though as to how or why this was, no one could be sure. There was a legend that the former dollmaker had been a master of dark magic; a legend supported by the fact that each and every one of these magical dolls had been evil, evil in the sense that they sought to take the blood of those who raised them. For centuries, there had been mass murder by the hands of these dolls. Little kids would beg and plead their parents for just one doll, pleading that they would at once relinquish the dolls at once if anything went awry.
Unfortunately, one chance was often all it took for the whole family to be brought to slaughter--often, but not always. Every once in a while, there would be a survivor--a survivor like the “Prince”. A survivor of death, but not a survivor of the terrors of his own mind.

The Prince stood in front of his gold-tasseled mirror and took in his curly brown hair, his green eyes, and his prized build. In the light of the mirror’s reflection, he could see the stately dolls that lay behind him in all their ornate wonder. Of course, there was no need for the reflection- he had seen this very sight each and every waking moment of his life. The image was ingrained in his mind, beginning from that one fateful day his life had been saved by his parents’ foolish sacrifice.
It had all happened in the very house where he still hid, sheltered from the outside world but a victim to the tortures of what lay inside. The house had once been more than a bedroom, more than the shambles it had become. When the red painted door had not been broken down into splinters and the proud brick chimney had still sat on its perch on top of the once pleasant yellow roof, when the house had been a real house, full of life and laughter, that was when it all happened. The family’s son, the “Prince”, as he was called, for he was very spoiled, had wanted a doll. He was five now and he’d been to school, and he had heard the tales his family had struggled to keep secret from his fanciful mind. “I want a talking doll too, mummy! Everyone at school has them! Tashi and Sasha and Eric and Donnie and Bella all have them!” It wasn’t entirely his fault that he was so obstinate on the idea of obtaining a talking doll- all of his school friends had them too, and they never failed to tease him. “What are you afraid of, Princey?” Tashi would sneer. “Yeah!” Sasha would readily agree as Donnie and Eric joined in with jeers. Everyone would tease him, everyone but Bella. The Prince had found her silence strange. He never thought too much about it though, for soon his wish was granted and all of his interest in Bella was quickly forgotten. On his sixth birthday, his parents bought him not one doll, not two--but five. Five dolls to be the five friends his schoolmates had never been. Accordingly, he named each of the dolls after his five schoolmates, and they became the friends he’d never had.
But one day, the dolls lived up to their expectations. One by one, each household in possession of a doll was burned down in an eerie sequence. There was a tumult, people everywhere knew the dolls had struck again upon those foolish enough to possess the evil things. People swore to ban the dolls once and for all, to keep them away for good--but these words were just words. No one had ever taken action for fear of retribution by the dolls. But there was one house left to go. The Prince’s house had yet to be burned, and there were people inside it who knew what was going on, but in the midst of all the chaos, no one helped them escape. Each of Prince’s five dolls had risen up to their calling and were advancing upon his parents, who struggled futilely to ward them off. Bare hands were no match for raw, dark power. However, Prince's parents, unlike the others, had had an inkling of an idea of what was going to happen before it did. After the chaos in the streets, they decided to ensure the safety of their son by stowing him away safely in the Bedroom of Mirrors, because not even the fire could burn down the strong, rock-like mirrors, while keeping the dolls at bay with some weapons they had scavenged from around the household.
While Prince did indeed survive, the house around him had burned to ashes. When he had finally emerged from the room, it was to find nothing but the ash. Even the bodies of his parents weren't discernible amongst the sea of grey--it was with a jolt and a heavy heart that Prince realized they had joined it. He was instantly confused and terrified, and so he sought solace in his "friends", because the dolls were still there. From his hiding spot he had never seen them kill his parents, and so he turned to the dolls, his "friends," for they were all that he had left.

And so this morning, like the others before it, he stood in front of his gold tasseled mirror and absently studied the reflection behind him. There was Tashi, the golden yellow attired male doll with the regal mop of blonde hair; and next to him sat Sasha, his blue eyed female companion with the striking crimson locks. A smile spread across the prince’s face as he turned and saw the rest of his dolls, Tanya, Eric, Donnie, and the ever-beautiful Bella. “Dolls!” the Prince yelled imperiously. “Tonight you are blessed with the good fortune of witnessing something to be remembered indeed!” He continued, smiling his shining green eyes at each of the dolls in turn. The dolls did not reply--they never did--and the prince as always took their silence for compliance.
The Prince had done nothing of much significance for ten years. From the age of six to the age of sixteen, he had done nothing more than hunt for scraps of food or play with his dolls. "Today I have grown into a real man! Today is the burning of the beautiful Bella!” he finished, his smile so joyous and bright that it seemed as if the Bedroom of Mirrors was encompassed by his bewitched grins. Still the dolls did not reply. They never did, and when the prince took Bella by the arm and she did not resist, he took it for acceptance. He dragged the beautiful blue-eyed Bella in her violet gown across the cluttered Bedroom of Mirrors, past his gold-tasseled wardrobe and his gold-rimmed bed, past the pile of ash where the remains of Tobias and Antonio lay. When the Prince flicked his match and hovered it above Bella, and she did not scream, did not run, did not cry, the Prince took it for obedience. 
For the dolls never resisted, the prince knew, and why would today, his sixteenth birthday, be any different? Why would the beautiful blue-eyed Bella be any different? With a cackle of mirth, the Prince dropped the flaming match on Bella and waited for her to burn so he could add her ashes to the ever-growing pile. Howling of laughter with the pride of his accomplishment, the Prince walked over once again to his gold-tasseled mirror to gloat his achievement, as he always did. As he looked into the mirror, his green eyes caught a reflection, and he gave a startled gasp, tripping over his tall gold boots. The faces of the now burned Antonio and Tobias, Tanya, Tashi, Eric, Donnie, Sasha, had all turned to face him. “Bella was not the one to be burned”, Tashi replied.
The Prince was in a maddening panic. “You never speak! Never!” he screamed, his eyes rolling back in cold hard fear as he realized what Tashi meant. Bella had never teased him. She had been the only one to refrain, and by burning her namesake, he had sealed his doom. All these years, he had been too young to burn--as the strength of his parents' sacrifice held firm. But today that had all changed, and he had ruined himself by committing the blunder of burning Bella. "We always have. You just never noticed,” Tashi replied. ”You made me burn her! You got that idea into my head! You were out to get me!” The Prince screamed, as realization struck him. “It’s not our fault that your ignorance and vain blinded you from the truth. You were meant to die from the day you took us in as your own. By calling us your friends and letting us in your home, you welcomed your death. Don't you get it?" Tashi asked, but there was nothing but confused stupor in the Prince's eyes. " This was meant to happen from the very beginning. The same day you took us in, it was fated that you would try to burn the wrong one when you came of age, thus bringing doom upon yourself.You had ten years to figure it all out, but you were too much of a fool,” Sasha stated with a snicker. At this point the Prince's stupor seemed to have lifted, but it was too late. Something about the way Tashi spoke assured the Prince that he would have no chance. His death was fated. At that moment a soft rustling came from the place where the Prince had burned Bella. It almost appeared as though a slight wind were passing through, causing the ashes to move haltingly. But soon it became evident that there was something greater and more substantial than a passing wind under the ash. Slowly but surely, a pale white china hand rose up, surprisingly smooth and clean despite its previous whereabouts. The rest of Bella, clad in the same violet dress as always, soon followed suit. Throwing her china head back in laughter, she cried, “Tonight you are blessed with the good fortune of witnessing something to be remembered, indeed!” the Prince did not reply. He never would. Bella dragged him to her ashes, and the Prince did not resist. He never could. And when Bella took the burning match and threw it on him, the Prince did not scream.