Cracked Porcelain Doll Novels & Stories

She saw a large oil painting hanging on the wall, the image on it was a very beautiful girl, she was wearing a white dress, holding a bouquet of lilacs looking like a beautiful bride. At this moment, Sylvia saw what she had just touched and broke lying on the ground, an angel-shaped porcelain doll with gilded wings that looked very beautiful and delicate, seemingly a collectible. The doll had broken into many small pieces, unable to be mended again. “I… I didn't mean it!” She awkwardly bent down to pick it up, but was cut by a fragment, bleeding red in a large patch. Suddenly, a tall figure appeared out of nowhere, rushing in to push Sylvia away.

He directly went outside the house. . . . “What is it?”, Aarvik asked when Arbaaz showed him the black box which was kept on the table of their warehouse. He walked toward it and opened it up, revealing a doll. The doll popped out of the box while attacked to the bottom of the mechanism. He looked at the appearance of the doll. It wasn’t in its normal color. It was pitch black in color with a horrible stab at the possible where the heart is supposed to be situated. The stab was so brutal that the cotton filling of the doll was screaming to come out.

It wasn't a love bite; it was a possessive brand, a savage claiming that seared through her nervous system. "Hmp!" Sahara cried out, a sharp, broken sound, as the pain lanced through her, sharp and shocking, before melting instantly into a dark, throbbing heat that pooled in her groin. He bit down harder, grinding his teeth against the bone, determined to leave a scar that would last for days.

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?

Just a dull warmth, like a blanket that was too thin for winter. "Marcus," I said. "I hit his car. It was an expensive car. I don't have the money. He's giving me a way to pay it off without going to court." "By making you his doll?" His voice cracked. "What does that even mean? Elara, that's not—you can't just—" "I signed the contract." The words hung in the air. Marcus stared at me. His hands dropped to his sides. "When?" he asked. "Just now."

" I tried to grab it, but he shoved me back hard, and I tumbled to the floor once more. "No excuses!" Nash's fury was boiling over as he jabbed a finger at the doll. "Ever since your sister came out of your room, she's been covered in rashes and can barely breathe. The doctor says it's an acrylic allergy. What else could it be, if not this junky toy?" He lifted his arm. "Please, no!" Crash! The porcelain doll lay in pieces before me. "Mom… Mom!" I crouched and shakily tried to gather the broken fragments. Alas, no matter how gently I tried, the doll was beyond repair.

“This one’s from you and Daddy Mercer?” Kade sits beside me on the couch, watching her. “Yeah, open it.” She rips the paper carefully, she's not like most kids who would destroy the wrapping paper in the process. When she finally pulls off the wrapping, she gasps, eyes going huge. A porcelain doll, dressed in an elegant Victorian gown, her face painted delicately, her curls perfect. Harlow stares at it, completely still, before looking up at us, her lip trembling slightly. “She’s so pretty,” she whispers.

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.”

Everything is being answered by the scene that’s playing in front of her. “Fun.” The porcelain doll speaks. Giggling and amused by the moment. Inside the cold and dim room where she is temporarily being kept, all until the right time that her mission will start. As it all by the wish of her creator and very father. She then whispers the words in an amused tone. “Isn’t this just too much? Too much fun?” Her tone depicts a twisted-minded maniac. A porcelain doll with beauty and perfection resembles a goddess. Created to stand like a seven years old child, her smile is menacing as her eyes are all blank.

Darius carried the box to the table. Then carefully peeled back the tape. No sounds. No movement. Just an ordinary cardboard box. He lifted the lid. And within seconds, his entire expression changed. Aurora immediately stood. "What is it?" Darius didn't answer. He simply stared at the contents. Aurora walked over. Then froze. Inside the box was a doll. But not an ordinary doll. Its face was stained and worn. Its eyes were different sizes. One side looked as though it had been deliberately damaged.