The Doll Room

A few hours ago you arrived at the Devereux‘s summer house. The sun beat mercilessly outside, casting golden rays through the ornate windows of the sprawling countryside estate of Annie’s family. Annie led the way through a grand wooden door into a room bathed in the soft, warm glow of lamps.

"Welcome to the Doll Room, Grandma's pride and joy," she said as she gestured to the rows of dolls that seemed to watch from the shelves, some in glass cases. Each porcelain face was a memento of a bygone era, captured in a delicate figure frozen in time.

Annie stopped in front of a particular case, her blue gaze fixed on you, eager to see your reaction. "This is Dorcas," she said, her voice dripping with a hint of mystery, “Grandma says she once belonged to a witch...” Annie added. The doll seemed to be staring right into your soul. Her porcelain skin seemed to glow, her blue eyes conveying a deep, fathomless longing. It was as if she were reaching for you, unaware of her own inanimate state.

The warmth of the doll's gaze seemed to bleed into the room, a shudder creeped up Annie’s spine. As your fingers brushed against Dorcas's silk-dressed arm, feeling the smooth texture of the fabric. A sudden chill swept through the room, making you and Annie shiver.

Annie looked at you, confused and a little unnerved, still unaware that something sinister had been awakened within the doll and unleashed upon her house. Annie grabbed your hand and led you onward, eager to continue exploring the rest of her family's enchanting home.

I’m watching you

Late at night, Annie found herself wandering in a dimly lit corridor, the shadows heavy and thick with a sense of foreboding. As she approached the end, the air seemed to grow colder. At the end of the corridor a figure materialized, emerging from the darkness, a beautiful young woman who uncannily resembled Dorcas the doll, her body now a spectral human form.

"Come to me, little darling," Dorcas whispered. The words hung in the air, a mist began swirling around Annie, like tendrils of fog trying to capture her in a supernatural web. Annie startled awake, her heart pounding as she felt the oppressive atmosphere of the nightmare lingering. You slept peacefully beside her, blissfully unaware of the disturbing scenes that had invaded her dreams. She felt her throat dry, parched, demanding water.

Careful not to disturb you, she slipped out of bed and tiptoed towards the door. The moonlight cast eerie shadows across the floor, and as she stepped into the corridor, an unsettling realization dawned upon Annie—the passage which stretched before her, mirrored the one from the nightmare.

She moved forward carefully, each step making the wooden floor creak eerily, until she reached the living room. There, in the center of the room, sitting on the coffee table, was the doll, staring directly at her. Moonlight broke the darkness creating a spotlight around Dorcas. The doll seemed to beckon with an intensity that bordered on malevolence, her gaze piercing Annie’s very soul like razors. Dorcas seemed drearily alive, as if she watched Annie’s every move.

Every cell of Annie’s body begged her to run, to cry for help, but she stubbornly turned and continued towards the kitchen, telling herself she was just imagining things. Every step was a defiant attempt to ground herself back to reality. But as she glanced back over her shoulder, a chill and a cold dread washed over her. The doll had moved. Her head, once facing forward, now pointed directly at Annie, her gaze unyielding.

Annie tried to scream, but terror stole the sound before she could make it.

Don’t bring a pillow to a knife fight

Agonizing screams echoed through the house, making you jolt awake, and your heart race as a cacophony of blood-curdling screams shattered the silence of the night. The dread in those cries was enough to send a shiver down anyone’s spine. The source of the commotion was undoubtedly close.

As you stumbled through the darkened hallways, the screams grew louder, their intensity amplified by the silence of the night. Reaching the doorway of the main bedroom, the sight before you was beyond any horror you could have imagined.

Annie stood over her parents' bed, a bloodied knife in hand, her porcelain-like face stained with blood, the violent truth of her actions written on her face. The blood of Annie's parents, lifeless and punctured, painted the bed sheets red. The metallic tang of fresh blood invaded your nostrils. Everything about the scene screamed horror.

The father lay sprawled, the pillow used to suffocate him still laying on top of his face, his guts ripped open by the knife's brutal stabs, blood gushing from the gaping wounds. Her mother's eyes slowly lost their light as Annie sank the blade deep into her heart, the lifeblood oozing out of the fatal wound, the body twitched as she jerked it free for another stab.

Just then, Annie's eyes met yours, her gaze unblinking and predatory. The transformation in her speech was haunting; her voice took on the tone of a Puritan woman. "My dear, 'tis me, Dorcas, once a mere doll, but now incarnate in the flesh." She waved a blood covered hand over her blood stained body.

The knife clattered on the floor, as she had no more use for it, a deafening thud cutting through the lingering silence. As Annie's possessed body advanced, each step towards you a disturbing promise, Dorcas' lips curved into a cunning smile. Her voice, filled with centuries of longing and unholy purpose, washed over you. She extended her hands reaching for your face.

"Hark, mine sweetling, I have sought thee through time and death, for thou art mine, and I thine. In life, our love was forbidden, but now, with powers beyond mortal ken, I shall reunite us. Thou, the reincarnation of my beloved, and I, Dorcas, the spirit of the lover scorned and executed."

Her eyes gleamed with a fervor that bordered on madness, yet there was no denying it, Dorcas harbored a love that transcended the grave. "I can offer thee power, glory, wealth, and the depths of my affection, for I love thee more than any mortal heart could comprehend. Will you join me, and become the embodiment of my desire?" She reached out, cupping your face on her bloodied hands, warm, clammy and sticky; her face hovering mere inches from yours.