Slappy- Son of Slappy

“You’re Slappy. You’re the original Slappy,” I said.
The wooden face grinned up at me with its painted red lips. The mouth clicked as it talked.
“Yes, that’s me, Jackson, my friend. I’m the one and only. But don’t feel bad. Your grandfather didn’t lie. There is a Son of Slappy.”
I gazed down at this horrible-looking thing, this wooden puppet, who could speak and move and grinned with such evil.
“Jackson,” it rasped, “don’t you want to know who the Son of Slappy is?
Aren’t you curious?”
His round black eyes locked on mine. And I suddenly felt strange.
Suddenly weak. My mind … I couldn’t think of words. I couldn’t speak.
I could feel the dummy invading my mind. It was like he was hypnotizing me. Seeping into my brain … my thoughts.
And I couldn’t do anything to keep him out.
I felt as if I was swimming underwater. I suddenly felt as if I was sinking … sinking into a deep darkness.
I struggled to speak. Finally, I shouted: “Who? Tell me. Who is the Son of Slappy?”
“YOU!” the dummy shrieked. It bounced up and down with excitement.
“Huh?”
“Congratulations, Jackson. It’s you, you lucky boy. YOU are now the Son of Slappy!”
I heard a sound. A loud chirp.
Suddenly, I felt dizzy. The room began to spin. My head felt heavy.
Once again, the dummy tossed back its head and opened its mouth wide in an ugly, shrill laugh.
And to my horror, I couldn’t stop myself.
My head tilted back — just like his — and I laughed right along with him.

- Son of Slappy, chapter 16