Dolls trip

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I see two dolls seriously damaged from either misuse or neglect. One has blue eyes and red lips while the other was having holes where the eyes should have been.
I feel the dolls look creepy, kind of drawn out of a horror movie. I definitely would not want to come over one unexpectedly in the dark. No.

"Dad, are we going to see grandma and grandpa when we get to the house"? Emily asked her father.
They were travelling to their country home about 150 miles away where their grandparents 'The Watson's" once lived. Her father was born there but when he turned six, he was taken to the city to stay with a close relative. Their mother could not not make the trip as she had a lists of patients lined up for surgeries but she made sure they missed nothing out while packing for the trip.
"Not really sweetheart, grandma and grandpa are both late but we will surely get to see their photographs so you get to know what they look like, okay"?
" Okay Dad", Emily replied.
About four hours later they got to the outskirt of the farmhouse. It low gate was made of wood with the inscription, J. Y. Watson on a piece of flat wood nailed to the middle of the gate.
The gate opened unto a dusty, untarred road that ran for about 500 metres to the main entrance of the house itself. The building was surrounded with numerous trees mostly of pines and eucalyptus and when the evening wind blows amongst them, they give off a ghostly swishing sound.
The sun was almost completely hidden over the horizon when they arrived at the house and proceeded to unpack their luggages.
The general outlook of the house shows it has witnessed little or no human activities within the last one or two decades. The doors and windows were thickly laced with layers of cobwebs and painted with dust. The edges of the windows and even the chimney had ferns growing out of them. The painting of the house was dulled from hugging the dust for so long. The house truly looks sober from years of neglect.
"Take out the brooms Josh, let's get those cobwebs off the way", Mr Watson shouted from the back of the house where he had gone to inspect the condition of the barn.
When they got inside after clearing the cobwebs and dust off the door, they found out the interior was not that dirty considering how long it has not witness any human warmth. It require just a couple of hours to get it cleaned out. But since they were tired from the long drive and were now hungry, they cleaned just the kitchen, living room and two out of the four bedrooms to accommodate them for the night.They had a light meal of fried eggs and bread washed down with tea.
" Alright everyone, it's time for bed. We have a long day ahead of us so everyone should get some sleep", Mr Watson said looking at the direction of Emily and her brother.
"Goodnight Dad", Emily and Josh said together to their Dad as they walked off to their room to settle for the night.
A few hours later Emily woke up and stepped out of the bed she shared with Josh. She was finding it hard to sleep after the excitement of the day and she was still anxious towards the activities of the next day. She decided to go for a short tour round the house.
A sharp scream tore through the night, shattering it stillness and silence. The scream was so piercing that it woke Mr Watson who was deep in sleep up. He was so tired from the long drive and cleaning up.
At first he could not make out the voice of who it was but after a few more seconds and an increase in the tempo of the scream, he recognized Emily's voice and snatching up the crowbar that was leaning against the wall in his room, he ran out of the room towards where the children slept. Just as he got to the door, he found out she was not screaming from the room but a few metres ahead, it was the basement.
He ran into the basement and found Emily standing with her palms covering her face while she let out screams after screams. He knelt down an hugged her.
"Am here sweetheart, what is it" Mr Watson whispered softly into her ear.
She ceased screaming but was letting out series of gasps. She pointed in front of her. Tracing the direction of her finger, her father looked out and found out what the cause was.
Lying in a cartoon some couples of feet away were two vicious looking dolls. They might have looked more prettier when they saw better days but years of neglect and dirt together with the rays from the dimly lit bulb casting shadows over them gave the dolls a sinister appearance. They were cracked in a couple of places and had their eyes widely opened.
The dolls had belonged to Mr Watson's younger sister Jane, who is now married and living with her husband and three kids in a city about 100 miles north of their country home.
"It's okay sweetheart, am here now". Her Dad whispered softly in her ear while hugging her closely and gently caressing her hairs.