My Grandmother’s Voodoo Doll Collection Came with Instructions"

My Grandmother’s Voodoo Doll Collection Came with Instructions"

The first rule was written in faded red ink:

"Never use the black thread."

I laughed when I found the box in Gran’s attic, tucked between her tarot cards and a jar of crow feathers. The dolls inside were grotesque—stitched from antique lace and stuffed with what I hoped was cotton. Each had a label: Mr. Henderson, 1962. Mrs. Delaney, 1978. Papa, 1954.

The second rule was harder to ignore:

"Never name a doll after the living."

But when my cheating boyfriend left me for my best friend, I broke it.

The First Stitch

I pricked my finger threading the needle, a drop of blood soaking into the doll’s chest. Gran’s journal said intentions mattered most, so I whispered: "Make him feel what he did to me."

The next morning, my phone buzzed with 27 missed calls.

"Something’s wrong with Kyle," my ex-friend sobbed. "He’s screaming about pins in his lungs."

I hung up and vomited.

The Second Stitch

The doll writhed in my hands when I tried to burn it. Gran’s third rule fluttered through my mind:

"Once begun, never undo."

Now Kyle’s in the ICU, doctors baffled by his collapsing organs. The police keep asking why I visit him daily, why I hold his hand so tight, why I whisper:

"Only 13 stitches left."

Would YOU use the doll? (Honest answers only.)"

Want a prequel about Gran’s past or a sequel with Kyle’s POV? Let me know! 🖤