Cracked Doll Novels & Stories

I freeze. The clerk unlocks the glass and pulls out a small, polished piece of medical-grade steel. It has a thick base ring and a small, restrictive cage attached to the front by a hinge. It has a tiny padlock resting next to it. It looks like a medieval torture device. "Kir, no," I say immediately, even though my cock is now pushing hard against my zipper and my breaths are coming faster than they should. The shop assistant ignores me completely, which is incredibly rude.

I didn't ask for anything that wasn't rightfully mine, but I made damn sure to get everything that was. I glanced at Zachary beside me, he looked completely broken. Anxious. Defeated. Nothing like the confident man I'd married. "Ella, is this really it for us? No second chances?" "That's right. We're done." I studied his face, remembering how nervous he'd been when he first asked me out all those years ago. But I wasn't that starry-eyed girl anymore. A cracked mirror can never reflect a perfect image again. Zachary and I—our story had reached its final page.

“Voodoo!” the lady screamed, as another identical doll had been placed inside her gift box. The MC stopped mid-action, her face turning pale as everyone’s angry gaze locked on her. “What the fvck did you do?!” they yelled, and she stepped backwards in fear. “We request Aurelia now!” everyone screamed. Holding the doll, I felt a sharp prick, the needle slipped into my finger, and the doll crashed to the ground. It split open, revealing paper stuffed inside like intestines. It looked disgusting, and inhumane.

Stained with blood and dirt? I dropped to my knees as I stare in horror. I can see the reflection of the sun in the gem. I can see a picture moving. A girl was playing in the woods with a doll in her hand. They wore the same dress but this one is clean. The girl was happy and enjoying the day. There was a shadow walking towards her, carrying a big rock. The girl sat down in the leaves and without her realizing it, a guy dressed as a senior hit the rock on her head, and she dropped her head in the leaves. The senior ran away from the dead girl. A gem was left on the forehead of the doll. The girl's body is lifeless. The gem shone bright, the doll blinks its button eyes and stands up. It tur

“What’s in there?” He reached forward and, working the latch, lifted the lid. “You tell me.” “Dumb as shit slow chick,” he said. The bat fell. “A doll?” She glanced in to see the bent, broken body of Tits. “A really big doll? She’s naked. Why is she naked?” Missing the shoulder, the bat bounced off the front of Freckle’s head with a crack. “ ‘Why is she naked?’” he said, mocking her. “Why do you have a nasty doll?” She’d turned away. “That’s weird.”

Not hers. My hands started shaking. 'Are they selling off coma patients' bodies?' All those stories from school came flooding back. My skin crawled. I fought the nausea and fear, forced myself to finish cleaning her up. I was about to leave when I saw it—the music box on her nightstand. Ms. Deinert had told me not to mess with it. But my hand moved anyway. I popped it open. No music. Just velvet at the bottom. Then I saw it—tiny crumbs near the edge. Crackers, maybe?

Crash! A sharp, violent crack ripped through the sterile silence of the office. The remote control, a sleek, expensive piece of brushed metal, flew from James’s hand with terrifying force. It spun through the air like a deadly projectile, arcing across the vast room before shattering against the far wall, splintering into a dozen jagged fragments that clattered against the marble floor. The sound, sharp and final, seemed to echo his internal rage.

So much more important than thread and stuffing and glass eyes, wrapped in a half-torn dress. I still feel bad about that doll. The one I saved from a hooker name. A doll I carried around with me for years, and now remember only in flashes. Bare, bright impressions, like seeing something through burned retinas. Seared over everything in a glowing silhouette. The same as Loki. I barely met Loki, but when I remember him it’s with a sick stirring so deep and violent it’s like there’s a clawed hand rammed down my throat. Churning my guts around. Turning my insides into so much fine flesh confetti.

Crack! Harvey crushed the second layer of the pagoda. “This is a rock with a psychedelic scent. It’s fine to smell this for a short period of time, but exposure to long periods of time will lead to a mental disorder. Even if death doesn’t come soon after, it would lead to loss of control of one’s entire body.” Crack! Harvey crushed the third layer of the pagoda. “Aside from that, there’s also a cursed doll in this layer.”

“Rot under varnish.” They teased it up, and it came away in one satisfying unmasking—false strength yielded to true weakness that could actually be mended. That piece took their power cleanly, gratefully, like a hinge drinking oil. The rent drew itself together another inch. Then the third crossing arrived—the one the visions had not dared to name.