Abandoned Doll Novels & Stories

Who has messy black hair the colour of it seems to be faded away due to time? The left eye of the doll almost fell out hanging by the thin tread while the other of different colours were stitched by the different tread. “Kid is you perhaps searching for me” Ren stood being the girl with his hands folded over his chest. Making the girl jump out of her skin a silent scream escaped from her throat as if her heartbeat. The doll she was holding slips from her hand falling to the ground. “Did you find the boy?” the granny asked, making finally opening the door what felt like forever to find the key to the house. Well, it did seem relevant at the same time it's not often that everyone asks for the

I didn't want to cry, especially not because of people who had never shown much care for me. With trembling hands, I began to open the carton, my gaze immediately falling on a small, old rag doll. It was dirty and worn, with torn fabric in places. I picked it up, my fingers tracing the ponytail I had fashioned for it when I was a child. Memories of playing with this doll and taking care of it flooded back. It had been a cherished companion during my early years, but now it was in disrepair. I couldn't help but wonder how it had become so dirty. I had always kept it clean until I left home. Perhaps it was my parents again. They always hated the things that belonged to me.

All at once, Lee broke away from the group, making his way to one of the time-stilled conveyor belts. “I bet the grandkids would like this.” He said to his wife, picking up one of the nearly finished dolls and twisting it this way and that in observation. “I don't know, it's not even painted all the way.” Martha noticed the doll had bright red hair and pale skin, its sculpted face somehow reminding Tina of a hedgehog she had kept as a child. It was paint or no paint, pretty adorable. “That adds to it, don't you think?” Lee asked. “Makes it more special, part of history.”

There was a hollow in the tree. He rummaged inside. Her voice trembled: “Don’t scare me… I’m afraid of snakes, bugs, and rats…” “Ta-da!” Orlando pulled out a ragged doll. “For you.” Ella didn’t take it. “It’s worn, but you can wash it. Mom made this while she was pregnant with you. I wanted to give you a toy gun, but they said girls prefer dolls. So, with the designer’s help, I clumsily made this. It was originally for Christine, but she hated it as a child and threw it away. I hid it here instead. Do you like it?”

His doll. And now she’s missing. This was one of the reasons why he didn’t want her to leave the villa, but he couldn’t say no after the conversation they had this morning over the phone call. For the first time, he couldn’t say no after she threatened him to leave. Who could have believed that the great Nikolai Kusabolatov, one of the most fearsome mobs all over Russia, couldn’t say no to a woman? A petite, doll-looking innocent woman.

A lone cabin sat nestled among the trees, dim light flickering through the window. I swallowed hard. Something felt off. But my feet moved before my brain could stop them. The closer I got, the louder the sounds became. Ragged breathing. A low, guttural groan. A moan. My chest tightened. No. I reached the window, peering inside. And my world shattered. Abaddon sat in a chair, his head tilted back, eyes dark and lidded with pleasure. Kiwor stood by the corner, watching. And in front of him—

“Do they describe what the weird things happened? What? Can we expect? Any idea where the doll came from? Originally?” “I think so. There’re several lines of writing I can’t understand. Oh, here. The doll came with them without their knowing. They left it behind in a fireplace where they believed they’d burned it. But when they unpacked, the doll, appeared in their boxes. This is the third move; this has occurred with. I’m not getting a good feeling about this. It’s not a local object. This is something, someone brought here. Oh, they now have a baby and don’t feel safe with it in their home. They never wanted it.”

I am the mistress of this house. And soon, everything that bore her name will bear mine. I look around me. The blanket she loved is in the trash. I threw away the photos. I erased her folder from the hard drive. I repainted her room a color she hated. I eradicated her like mold. One day, our child will sleep in that hallway where she used to cry. And on that day, I will stand straight, made up, sublime. And I will laugh. Because happiness exists. Even for monsters.

Meanwhile, in an abandoned factory in the old district, the air was thick with the smell of rust and a sinister, evil aura. Inside the dilapidated factory, moonlight streamed through shattered glass windows, casting mottled shadows on the ground. In the corners, piles of discarded machine parts outlined menacing shapes in the darkness. A small figure appeared silently in the center of the factory—it was the Evil Doll. It had not possessed Brycen's body, but arrived in its original form. Barely half a foot tall, it wore a faded kimono, its face painted with a bizarre red and white makeup. Its eyes were as black as ink, utterly lifeless, yet exuding a chilling, bone-deep coldness.