Ugly Doll Book Novels & Stories

Chapter 1 The room was gloomy and dimly lit. The only beam of light in the darkness came from the screen of the Television. Nestled in my usual chair, my eyes rested on the flickering screen of the big box. On the screen of the box was a girl, staring at three traditional african dolls, all of them were dressed in white gowns. One was burned to a crisp, the second was only scorched on one side and the third was untouched by the flames. The girl reached out her hand and picked up the doll that had not been burned. She smiled down on it and caressed its cheek. The doll had eyes that seemed to sparkle. I stared in horror as the sparkly eyes suddenly warped into a bloody red. The doll cackled fi

Ugly. "Ari," I screamed at the top of my voice, just before she could pull the trigger. "Is this what you really want?”

I was just focused on the book I was reading, pretending not to hear them. “Hey ugly,” one of them called out. “Hope you are not planning to show up tonight.” I pushed back my glasses that were falling off my nose and continued reading. One of them walked to my desk, grabbed my book and dropped it to the floor. “You don't ignore beauty like us.” She said, titling her head smugly. She continued “have you gotten a prom date? Oops, I forgot. Nobody will want an ugly duckling like you to be their date.”

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.

Elara’s chest tightened. She didn’t press him. She just nodded gently. “Then we’ll start tonight.” She reached for the small storybook she’d brought in, one of Mira’s favorites. “This one’s about a dragon who didn’t know how to roar,” she said softly. “He thought he was broken. But turns out, he just needed someone to listen first.” Milo looked at the cover, then at her, his eyes thoughtful. “Does he roar in the end?”

I waved the fabric square, and he smiled, now a lot more excited… An hour and many pricked fingers for me later, we were done. There on the table lay two round-bellied cloth dolls. One had a striped body, with black legs and feet, and a strip across the eyes where we had attached two black buttons. The other had a creamy peach fabric face and arms, with a black body and grey bottoms. I was now drawing some black doodles onto the arms. "What are you doing, Azura?" He asked, leaning over curiously.

“Quiet and calm environment?! thought Vlad. - Wow definition! I would like his iron nerves. Although, probably, in a past life he did not happen to be in such alterations. Remember only that dream of mine about the siege. After all, he slept somehow for two weeks to the sounds of incessant shelling, with the constant thought that there was nowhere to retreat. And nothing, he looked so cheerful at the end. A small, palm-sized, format book, open towards the end, lay on the table. From the page looked mythical monsters depicted along the entire perimeter of the fields, intricately intertwined with each other, either in a fight, or copulating. The yellowish-brown paper obviously remembered more

Mom would have loved this. Wall behind the main desk has classic square column facades. Most of all, I love the view of the Detroit river. I walk around the room and look at paintings hung behind the desk. Next to it, there are shelves with books and framed photographs. One book in particular catches my attention and I grab it. ‘The Doll’ by Bolesław Prus. The binding is fragile. It’s an old polish book. My mom has one. I open the hard cover to see the publication date and my eyes widen to see it was published in 1890. I gasp and put it back. It’s a freaking antique.

he retorted sarcastically, frustration seething in his voice. He then placed a grimy, tattered box in front of me, wrapped haphazardly. I opened it and peered inside, my eyes narrowing as I examined the contents. The box resembled a child’s plaything, but the items within were unsettling. The plastic knife and screwdrivers were chipped and stained, the nuts were rusted, and the doll’s skin was scratched, as if it had been dragged across a rough surface. "The doll was dismantled, and the nuts were shoved inside its eyes before she found the box and hid it. Isn’t that strange?" Hudson said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

Necklaces, bags, nail stickers—Sunny wouldn’t like those either. Dolly paced in circles in her room, worrying. Then she remembered that Sunny liked reading. She packed her treasured pop-up princess books into a small handheld suitcase. After that, she went to Donald’s bedroom and brought along the robot Donald had prepared as a gift for Sunny. When Dolly arrived at the Gracewell Hospital suite, Angela was in her room attending a video conference. Sunny took charge of welcoming Dolly. Dolly gave Sunny the pop-up princess books, and Sunny accepted them happily.