Dollhouse Unfinished Novels & Stories

Back then, I thought that since this was a house I'd be living in for the rest of my life, I should definitely renovate it exactly to my liking. On the day we officially moved in, Nyra had excitedly hugged and kissed me. She told me that we finally had a home of our own and promised that we'd live here together forever. But now, we were going our separate ways. Passing by the study, I saw the dusty puzzle in the corner. It was a photo of Nyra and me, one we'd planned to finish and hang in the living room. But we only finished half of it. Just because Zoe said she didn't like it, Nyra stopped working on it.

I ask. "Oh... I- I was making a doll." he leans down and grabs something that looks like a messy little doll with hay hands, legs and a little body. He holds it so I can see it. I put my hand through the bars and take it. It's quite wet and dirty, but it looks cute. "Is it done?" I ask. "Not yet, your highness. I just started. But there are some finished ones." he says. He gets three more hay dolls from the ground and shows me.

She watched the sun filtering through the trees, resting over the unfinished frame of what would soon be her home. Her home. Not a prison disguised as a mansion. Not a family estate with secrets beneath the tiles. A new house, on untouched land, far from the old maps. "What do you think about the studio?" Maddox asked, approaching her with effort-marked lips. "That it will have many windows, and shelves for my journals. And a rug where Dax will fall asleep reading," she answered without looking up. Dax pretended to be offended. "And I don’t get a bed?"

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.

"I have been thinking about her a lot lately. Going to the property, looking at those hills she used to stand and look at. I think I understand now why she was so determined." "She wanted to make sure we had options," I said. "She did," Cassie said. "I wasted most of mine for a long time." "You are not wasting them now." "No," she said. "I am not." We talked for another twenty minutes about the job and about Luke's football and about the restoration progress at the property, which was nearly complete now. The main house was finished. The garden was taking shape. The foundation building beside it was fully operational. When we hung up I sat at my desk and looked out the window of the home I s

Tom takes me back to the new house. He’d insisted on going alone, but I wanted to see what he’d done with April and Hendrix. In the unfinished greenhouse is a stairway to a cellar. He tells me it’s meant to be a vintage wine cellar. But since divorcing, he doesn’t care about finishing the house anymore. He’s hesitant to bring me down, but I insist. In the cellar is April. Chained by the ankle to a supporting beam. The only light is turned on when we walk down the steps.

“You beautiful ladies finish your movie.” “Okay, darling,” Maisie said, kissing him. “Say goodbye before you go, okay Aunty Cricket?” Poppy said. “Of course,” I said, and followed Hatch downstairs to the swanky finished basement. It was an expertly designed space, decorated with antique mid-century modern furniture and artwork. “You want a beer?” Hatch asked. “Maybe later.” “How did you find out about Cutter?” Hatch asked as we flopped onto the sofa. “He summoned me.” Hatch raised an eyebrow. “Summoned you?”

“Your father built a dollhouse up here. He turned the attic into a little world just for you and Audrey.” I felt something stir deep in my chest. “He worked on it for weeks,” she continued. “Hand-painted walls, tiny furniture, even working doors.” Nina’s eyes sparkled. “Wow…” Mom flipped through the album. There it was. A picture of a dollhouse, beautifully crafted, detailed, filled with tiny chairs and beds. And two girls, sitting proudly beside it. “I think…” I whispered, stepping closer. “I think I remember this.” Mom looked up, surprised. “You do?”

“Can I tell you something?” Luca had sighed. “Mireya.” “I think that dollhouse would make me so happy.” Johan, ever the voice of reason, had arched a brow. “Maria, they already said no.” Maria hadn’t looked at Johan. She had kept her gaze on Luca. Luca had exhaled heavily. The next day, the dollhouse had miraculously appeared in Maria’s playroom. Johan had glared daggers at Luca, muttering, “You’re literally funding her villain arc.”

as he forced his feet to cross the threshold. Inside, he could plainly see the reason for her lack of coloration and her resistance to the light. It was nearly pitch-black inside except for the flickers of a dying fire. The curtains were thick and drawn tightly, and as she shut the door behind him, he couldn’t help but feel as one might upon finding oneself in the bottom of a grave while still alive. The room was a disaster from what he could tell in the dimness, with paint and doll parts littering a table near the fire, a few chairs here and there, and discarded materials skittered across the floor. The remnants of dirty dishes covered the table and parts of the floor as well, and he notice