“The sore throat had started after the night the first doll appeared. No wonder it hurt too much to eat or drink anything. Night after night, the dolls had been climbing into his mouth and down his throat as he slept, making their way through the narrow passageways of his body like explorers in a dark, damp cave. The realization nauseated him. He felt the urge to vomit, but there was nothing in his stomach to bring up. Nothing but acid and fear.”
