Welcome To The Dollhouse Cast Novels & Stories

In fact, that wasn’t a bad idea. Within minutes, Layke was washed, dressed and storming his way though the castle. He found the little witch in the living room, balancing on one of the dining chairs, dusting the chandelier and tackling the non-existnet cobwebs whilst Beau watched her, utterly perplexed. Layke stopped dead in his tracks. What the hell was she doing? Layke didn’t miss the maids wandering round the hallways wondering what to do with themselves and now he knew why. Most of the group, even beryl, were gathered in the room on the sofa watching the T.V, but all eyes were fixed on Belle. And all, even Beryl, appeared concerned. So concerned that they only spared him a brief glance b

I don't understand how Doll could have believed that we would be upset with her or with the idea of her carrying our child inside her, when the mere thought of it makes me want to spend all day beside her, trying not to miss a single inch of her body growth. We head inside the mansion, walking to the living room where Mom, Uncle Christopher, Scarlet, and Cameron are waiting for us. Penny darling — Mom stands up and wraps her arms around Penny, greeting the doll before us like she normally does, it doesn't even offend me anymore. After the ten minutes it takes Mom to cover our faces with kisses, which have surely left her lipstick mark on all of our faces, and Penny has taken charge of greeti

I call out as I make my way down the lengthy stairwell, seeing the big ol’ guards that are used to fighting off erratic vampires and enemies in wars now playing dolls with both my kids. The biggest and toughest guard Sean looks up at me and smiles this sarcastic grin at me. “Just great boss,” he says then immediately draws his attention back to Mariella who’s mumbling a bunch of nonsense and pointing angrily at the big dollhouse that was gifted to the two of them by my fathers new ‘wife’. “Sorry, my lady,” he apologizes and continues to play with his princess doll just to keep her entertained. Couldn’t have asked for better guards.

There was the most beautiful fairytale castle sitting in the middle of the room. “It’s a doll’s house,” Barry said, walking around it before setting Abby down. “It’s a replica of the queen’s castle in Merveille.” “Oh Barry,” Becky said, her hand going to her mouth, “it’s beautiful.” Barry showed Abby how it opened on a hinge, revealing a painstakingly hand-built and decorated interior. It stood a shade taller than Abby and was exquisite with white turrets and even stained glass windows. The miniature furniture and decor inside were a work of art in and of itself.

A grim thought enters my mind as I carefully watch him, so transfixed. I am his doll. I used to play with dolls when I was a little girl. When my mama is still alive, and my father is still sober. This is exactly how you play a doll. Dressed it up. Making sure that it always looks good and beautiful, and prepping it like a princess. Just like me. I thought I would be sleeping down in a basement, but instead, he put me in this spacious room with all the lavish comfort it brings, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am no more than an object to his eyes.

The back garden was quieter; it was better. Then he thought of something. Sahara's former playhouse. Behind the house was the small building her father had built years before. That was her little kingdom in the day. He might sit here for a while and escape the crowd. As he came close, he heard something. A voice. Very soft slurring. Time's up. He paused. That didn’t look good. He frowned. He grabbed the door and turned the knob. “It's open," he said. That alone made his face stiffen.

A cold chill tousled through the hairs on the back of my neck and filtered down my spine, prompting me to spin around and make it back towards the front of the door when my eyes were drawn into something I had not really noticed previously. A dazzling porcelain doll sat competently on a rocking chair, facing my direction. She initially appeared to be expensive and visually striking, as if she has a million bolts of charm and glamour lurking beneath her smile. Her ocean-blue eyes have depths of innocence in them, and it seemed as though an inevitable gravity was dragging me in to explore those vast sets of orbs.

"Beth, are you still upset? I know Belle's death hit you hard, but life has to go on." When she saw me staring at the family photo, she smiled and said, "What a sentimental and grateful child." Cedric Cox, my adoptive brother, carefully held out a large gift box in his hands. "Don't look so gloomy. Mom and Dad bought you a present." I said hoarsely, "Thank you." In the center of the gift box lay a doll. It had curly hair with two sapphire hairpins and delicate features. It was wearing beautiful clothes. They had even bought a whole separate bag of accessories and outfits for it.

Ethan followed silently, his presence steady behind her. As they entered the main room, Olivia froze. The living room looked untouched, like someone had stepped out just five minutes ago. Toys on the carpet. A half finished puzzle. A dollhouse with its lights still glowing faintly even though there was no electricity. Ethan whispered, “Olivia… this isn’t normal.” She moved toward the dollhouse, kneeling. The tiny rooms were arranged with careful precision. A miniature dining table. Miniature chairs. Miniature figures. She leaned closer.