Peacock Puppet Attack

I was folding laundry when I heard rustling in my toddler’s room. I walked in expecting to find him playing with his toys, but instead saw his peacock puppet perched on the rocking chair, its head tilted unnaturally to one side. I swear it whispered, “Stay,” as I moved closer.

“No, you didn’t just say that,” I muttered, trying to convince myself it was my imagination. But then its beak started moving again—this time clearer. “You shouldn’t be here,” it hissed.

Before I could react, it lunged at me, its fabric wings flapping wildly like it was alive. I stumbled back, tripping over a stuffed bear, and felt its sharp beak nip my arm.

Now, I’m locked in the bathroom, and I can hear its voice again, muffled but clear: “I know where you sleep.”

📝 *Full story continued in the comments…*Okay, here’s the continuation and ending:

The cold tile offered little comfort. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the peacock puppet’s sinister whispers. I knew I couldn’t stay barricaded forever. My son was in there, possibly witnessing all of this. I had to act.

Taking a deep breath, I peeked through the keyhole. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the nightlight shaped like a star. The rocking chair was empty. My son, thankfully, was asleep in his crib, unaware of the nightmare unfolding. The peacock puppet was gone.

Panic clawed at me. Where was it?

I slowly opened the bathroom door, my hand outstretched, prepared to defend myself. The house was silent, save for the gentle hum of the refrigerator. I crept into the hallway, scanning the shadows. The puppet…where could it be?

Then, I saw it. It was perched on the banister of the stairs, its beady eyes fixed on me. As I looked it it spoke, “Come play with me”

With a surge of adrenaline, I charged toward the stairs. I grabbed the nearest weapon – a heavy ceramic vase from the hallway table – and swung. The vase connected with the puppet, a satisfying *CRACK* echoing through the house. The peacock puppet, its head now detached, tumbled down the stairs, feathers scattering like a macabre confetti.

I scrambled to my son’s room, scooped him up from his crib, and fled the house. I stayed at my sisters house that night.

The next morning, I returned with my husband and we took all of my sons stuffed toys, they were all gone.
The house was empty. And in the middle of the house was the peacock puppet, perched on the rocking chair, its head tilted to one side. My husband was shocked. I asked if it said anything and as soon as he came close, the puppet whispered “Stay”

We moved out of the house, with everything but the peacock puppet. We left it there, and never went back.