The Ghost That Lives In The Doll Novels & Stories

The greenish-blue glow was a little off, but nearly every single window was wide open! The frost wraith, Chloe, floated to the front. Her little face was wrinkled with worry. The Hungry Dead clutched his precious empty bowl. His drool threatened to spill from the corners of his mouth, but his eyes were full of concern. The banshee had stopped crying, sniffing and staring upward. The Poltergeist was holding some random rusty pipe, looking ready to charge up and tear the building apart… There were also the Hanged Ghost, Shadow Sneak, Pipe Phantom…

Marcus, the quiet guy from accounting leaned against the door, arms crossed, with a bitter smirk twisting his lips. “McAllen,” he said. “You’ve been looking real happy lately. I see you enjoy your late night with the boss.” My stomach dropped. “What the hell are you talking about?” He stepped closer, I could see the jealousy in his eyes. “ I saw you leaving the private elevator. Looking like a man whose ass has taken some cock. You’re not the first, you know. The Ghost destroys anyone who tries to get close. You’re just the latest toy.” “The Ghost?” I laughed it off, but my voice sounded shaky even to me. “Sounds like some movie legend bullshit.”

He stood straight with a serious face as he began his explanation. "Ghosts are the souls of dead humans who... well, aren't ready to rest in peace. They don't have powers. All they can do is move from one place to another without being seen. Well, not by everyone though." "But... if you're a demon, why then are you in this form?" She couldn't help but ask.

The way she watched Paul with something that looked like hunger, not love. "You're lying," I whispered. The doll laughed. It was a horrible sound—too high, too wet, like a baby choking on milk. "Maybe. But you'll never know, will you? Because you're too scared to try. You've always been too scared. That's why she died. You were too scared to push. You gave up." I threw the holy water. The doll screamed. A long, piercing scream that filled the whole house. Paul came running. The doll was on the floor, its dress smoking, its porcelain face cracked from temple to chin.

I had no choice, so I dug through every gift Zoe had ever given me, but I found nothing. Just when I was about to give up, I shook a pillow, and a tiny paper figure floated out. Its face was drawn to resemble Lucas, and his birth details were written on the back! The fortune teller exclaimed, “That’s it! The lock and the paper figure work together, and since you've touched the lock, the effect on you is stronger. Luckily, you found it early.” I broke out in a cold sweat. That same day, I slipped the paper figure under Miles’ pillow and instructed my parents to watch him while he slept.

The doll cackled fiendishly, it's cackling was so loud that my windows began to vibrate. “JESUS CHRIST!” I blurted and quickly reached for the remote; turned down the volume and covered my eyes with my fingers. Through the tiny slits in my fingers, I peeked as the doll pounced on the girls face. A grotesque, cheshire smirk upon it's pale-white face. It's rows of terribly stained teeth flashed like daggers under a full moon. As the doll tried to plunge it's spiky teeth into the girls flawless face, the brightness from the television disappeared and the house plunged into total darkness.

I'm currently in the state of dilemma, torn between disposing the doll or holding on to it so Persefoni can get it of it herself. I may not know about magic, but I do know that in some scenerio, someone's spirit is linked to creepy dolls like this. I do not know whose spirit this particular doll is housing, or if it's housing any spirit at all.

He asked her. “It’s a trap!” Agatha loudly screamed. “What?—” But it was too late. Long before the wind twisted the figure held captive on the air, and from the screen that were left discarded as they run, it shows a doll, the same doll, which had taken Lenda’s life. Around it, the explosives were tethering, flashing in a deepest crimson ‘til its sealed and mechanical lips slowly smiled. “Checkmate.” “Run! Fuck!” Agatha screamed with all he right.

Instead of feeling sad, she smiled widely. She jumped off the bed, slid the glass door to the side and went to the balcony. There, she inhaled a deep breath. After a while, she chuckled alone. Once again, she recalled the frivolous dream of last night. The long-haired blond with the beautiful appearance lingered on her mind. “What am I thinking? Someone like that cannot exist in this world.” She shook her head. She smiled all alone at the balcony while thinking of him. She felt a weird kind of relief after knowing the ghost she saw in her dream wasn’t a female. She thought it was funny but at the same time, it was impossible to forget such a person who possessed an appearance that was like n

I switch off the lights for extra measure. “So this happened when my mom was 17 years old. One day, she and four of her friends were having a sleepover when they decided to tell ghost stories. So, my mom was narrating a story about a doll that is a medium for dead spirits. People would often call their dead relatives and talk to them. And if you want to call the doll, you have to hold hands and chant, ‘Suzie, please come,’ three times. People named the doll Suzie,” I speed dial, Reed.