Ugly Doll Book Novels & Stories

Why would he give our baby this hideous monster-looking thing? Wisdom looks at the doll strangely. It's dressed in a long black dress, has long black hair, and a painted white face with black tears running out of one eye. But isn't on the doll's cheek. The doll's mouth is open and the teeth are sharp like razors. She takes it from him and blows it up. "no I didn't and I'm pretty sure Beauden or my grandfather didn't either. Where did you get it from?" Wisdom rubbed her daugther's forehead.

From the odd symbols on the wall to the strange box in front of her, Xyla realized more and more that she didn’t know who Emily really was. Her gaze unintentionally shifted to another drawer beside her. She saw another red doll in the shape of a human as well as a red booklet. Xyla’s name was sewn onto the doll. She immediately frowned slightly before picking the doll up. Then, Xyla discovered that not only was her name sewn onto the doll, but the large bunch of symbols she was earlier were also sewn onto it. Xyla turned the doll around to look at its back. Likewise, her name and weird symbols were also sewn onto the back of the doll.

The phone starts to ring as I wait for her to answer. "Hello?" Barbara says. "Hello, Darling!" I say to her with a prim proper tone in my voice. Using this voice, I often pretend that I am the villainous "Cruella Devil" from the book "The Hundred and One Dalmatians" by Dodie Smith. That has always been one of my favorite books. My mother used to read it to me as a child. "Molly!" Barbara says with excitement in her voice. "How are you doing?" I asked her, “I have not seen it yet this summer.

And since it was, how we played made all the difference. I felt something brush up against my leg the moment Kizzy built up the courage to speak. It was one of the dolls - the eyeless, mouthless dolls that only had symbols on their clothed stomachs. The one doll touching my ankle had a pentagram on their belly, drawn in red. Aside from yarned hair on their head, everything else was bare. If they had stories to tell, they wouldn't be able to tell them.

Celea paused and looked at the books " And you dare call yourselves the great old books all that it's written in there is bullshit" Celea sighted and lined further in the comfortable chair " THE DEVILS LIBRARY!" exclaimed Celea " That's it how didn't I think of that before, ofcourse that's were I can find what I'm looking for" **** " Knock,Knock" "Celea what are you doing here again, and what the hell do you mean 'knock, knock'? We don't even have a fucking door here " your supposed to ask who's there old man"

The fear, the pull, the thing she was running toward even when she knew she shouldn’t. “Little doll.” The words echoed in my head again, soft and dangerous. I didn’t know it yet, but that name was going to change everything.

I opened five tabs and kept going. What else? Dolls. Safe, I thought. But what kind? Something she could keep on a shelf when she grew older. Handmade cloth doll? Custom doll? Could I get one fast? Maybe a sketch set too. She likes drawing. Good pencils. A real sketchbook. Not the thin paper that tears when you erase. And books. Always books. A story about a brave girl. A book of animals. Maybe a small globe. She likes to ask questions about places. A tight feeling pressed at my chest.

Hell, why am I even thinking about this? I grunted in annoyance and kicked the sand, hoping to get myself calm. Anytime I approach Ugly is to do nothing but tease her and when I had seen that book on her bed, I knew instantly what it was. I had seen it before, either in Cassie’s room or was it Madeline? Ugh, I can’t remember but I have acted that part before. And swears, I only wanted to tease Ugly because, hell, I was surprised seeing she was reading such a book. She always appeared innocent and to say I was surprised was an understatement.

But that was not all On the shelves were live sized doll heads. Dozens and dozens of them. The heads were roughly decapitated, with red paint smeared around their necks and mouths to look like blood. Some had kitchen knives stuck through their skulls, others had their eyes removed. It was like walking into a serial killer's fantasy. "Moon goddess ," I whispered, covering my nose against the smell.

I smiled at him not wanting to show how upset and annoyed I was, why wouldn't he just leave me alone? "Can I have my book back please?" I asked politely as if he wasn't teasing me. "You read some weird shit, honestly Ayla what the fuck is wrong with you?" My heart sank at his harsh tone. "I hope nothing is wrong with me, all I want is my book please." My voice faltered and I felt like crying because I noticed everyone was looking at me, I hated it. It was like the only time I got attention was when Ryder was teasing me.