Cracked Porcelain Doll Novels & Stories

The marble tiles beneath their feet groaned and cracked under the pressure, fine spiderweb fractures racing outwards across the floor. Lila felt like a sledgehammer had slammed into her chest. Her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the cracked floor. CRASH! The silver tray slipped from her hands, and the delicate porcelain stew pot hit the ground, only to be crushed into fine powder by the invisible pressure before it could even shatter. Scalding broth splashed all over Lila, staining her prized golden gown. Shards of porcelain sliced into her palm, blood welling up from the cuts.

By the window, Neo watched as cars departed from the neighborhood. He reached out, slowly drawing the curtains closed. Picking up the zombie doll from the floor, he placed it on a shelf in the small room. Then he walked over to the cabinet furthest inside and pulled open the drawer. Inside the drawer lay a row of handmade dolls. They were all tattered and strange-looking. Some were missing arms, some had broken legs. Others had their mouths sewn shut, their faces expressionless. These dolls all bore a striking resemblance to Jenny. Neo picked up one of the dolls, looking at its broken arm, his eyes filled with a chilling sense of foreboding.

Getting back in her car, she smiled at the doll. "You're much too special to just be tossed," she said. She had been obsessed with the house since she was little, and she wasn't yet ready to part with such an unexpected treasure, no matter how creepy it was. The doll had a porcelain face with a cloth body, and it wore a pale red dress. It stared out the car window as they drove, and Beth contemplated how ethical it would be to keep or sell it. Technically, Mike had given it to her for disposal, but now she worried what sort of implications it may have if it turned out the doll was somehow worth a lot of money.

"Thank goodness everyone is fine. We just pay them for the broken statue." Dulce sobbed even louder. "We can't afford it! They said that the antique is a porcelain statue from the Yuan dynasty and it's worth around three hundred million! They were really aggressive! They've grabbed your father and have threatened to kill him if you don't pay them back."

“Let go! Don’t touch it! I told you not to touch it!” That doll was my eighteenth birthday present. Damien had specially ordered it custom-made for me from abroad. The intricate embroidery on its clothes was handcrafted by a master artisan and had required a four-month waiting list. It meant the world to me as it was a symbol of how much my brother adored me. Seeing me trying to crawl back up, Lucy slammed her foot right onto my back. I was forced flat against the floor, left with no choice but to watch Grace throw the doll against the floor, creating a deep crack across the doll’s surface.

The spirit inside the doll fed on her fear, she could sense it, growing stronger with each tremble. Then, something shifted. The doll's lower body changed, its porcelain skirt hiking up to reveal an appendage emerging from its smooth crotch—a thick, unnaturally large cock, growing before her eyes. It pulsed with dark energy, veins throbbing along its length, easily as big as her forearm. And it vibrated, a low hum filling the air, sending tremors through the bed. Lila's eyes widened in horror and fascination. 'Oh god, no,' she breathed, staring at the monstrous thing. It was impossible, fantasy made flesh—or porcelain. The doll positioned itself between her legs, its tiny hands gripping her

“No. More than studying. Rebuilding. Echo Florence was a mimic lab. Not content with clones—they wanted reconstructions. Perfect ones. Down to memory, down to cadence, down to the way you breathe between words.” Colton’s jaw worked, the muscle there rigid. “This isn’t surveillance. It’s a breeding program.” In the room’s center, atop a pedestal, sat a glass case. Inside, resting on white silk like a relic, was a porcelain doll. Savannah’s breath caught. The doll’s face was hers—hers as a six-year-old. Delicate brushstrokes captured the faint arch of her brows, the exact shade of her eyes, even the tiny scar above her left temple from the summer she fell from the tree swing. The dress was han

snapped the girl, which made the maid at the door of her room fall silent. After there was no more sound, Kyra resumed her crying. She even hit the big stuffed panda that she slept with every day. "Poki! Do you know how annoying Grandpa is? I also miss Mommy, Daddy, and Aunt Vio," she complained to the doll, who couldn't answer her at all. Kyra got the doll three years ago from her grandfather. She named it Poki. I don't know where she got the name, but it just popped into her head when she first saw the panda doll that was as tall as she was.

The enamel had been damaged a bit and it was time to paint them again. For a millisecond I saw that Ezra had a weird look on his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come and was replaced again with a smile. “And what happened to the doll?” “Oh yeah. That diabolical doll, I didn't even want to see it but I kept it because I feel like I have to show the things that are happening to me. Otherwise no one would believe me.” “Show? That doesn't sound very good,” Ezra mused under his breath.

It slips away from my hand, and in the next second, the bang filling my ears. Oh my goddess, did it break? Is it made of glass, gosh. I hope not. I crouched towards the level of the figurine, my knee touching the floor, thank goodness it didn’t break, however there is a tiny crack on its head. I hurry to take it into my hands. I hear the door creak from behind, and my eyes snap up, before I could think. I hear a dark voice. “What the fuck are you doing with that?” A cold voice seeps through my system, immediately, the figurine slips from my hand.