The Dollmaker’s Curse

Briar Manor was a house that had been abandoned for a long time in the now-defunct town of Greystone Hollow. There, the mist clung to crumbling stone fences, and dead leaves whispered secrets down crooked paths. It was cursed by the locals. According to them, no birds ever perched on its eaves, no animals ever wandered nearby, and no one ever left the building the same. Miss Evangeline Blythe owned the house for decades. She was a reclusive dollmaker who ran a shop selling porcelain creations that were so lifelike they made your skin crawl. Her dolls were works of art with rosy cheeks, glass eyes that blink, and delicate dresses that were stitched with uncanny precision. However, their eyes never left the room. Her shop was once frequented by children and their parents, who were captivated by the dolls. However, something changed over time. The kids started to withdraw. Quiet. They sometimes just vanished, whispered to the dolls, or held the dolls too tightly. one at a time. Eventually, the town turned against Evangeline and stormed the manor with torchlight and a look of fear in their eyes. However, she was gone. There was nothing left behind but hundreds of her dolls that were left staring from every corner. No one dared come back. up until Halloween evening. Seniors Lena, Jake, and Marissa, who were sick of small-town legends, decided to look around the manor. Jake said, "Just for fun." They bravely and with flashlights pushed through the overgrown, iron gates that were covered in thorny vines. In the moonlight, the manor loomed like a corpse. The air inside was covered in snow-like dust. Walls were covered in peeling, faded wallpaper. Doll-lined shelves lined the walls of each room. Small, large, elegant, or crude. The dolls seemed to follow the teens wherever they went, their eyes shimmering in the night. Marissa mumbled, "This is creepy as hell." They discovered the workshop in the basement, which had a large glass cabinet in the middle, tools scattered across a long table, and walls covered in old sketches. A doll that stood out from the rest was inside: a tiny girl with blonde curls, a crimson velvet dress, and praying-like hands. Clara was her tag. Lena said, half-joking and half-daring, "Let's take her." They took Clara home, despite Jake's protests. That night, Lena placed Clara on her desk and fell asleep. She awoke to a soft thud at 2:47 AM. The doll was lying on the ground, her head pointing at her bed. She thought she had it in her head. However, Clara got closer and closer each night. The cold air got colder. The shadows remained longer. Even though the windows were closed, Lena discovered that one morning her mirror was fogged. The words "I miss my family" were written with a child's finger on the glass. Visions of a twisted workbench, a woman whispering spells, and glassy eyes blinking from cabinets entered her dreams. She saw children trapped in wooden bodies, pale and motionless. One resembled Marissa. Lena begged Jake to accompany her to return the doll out of fear. After two days, Marissa hadn't turned up to school. She had not been heard from. The door creaked open on its own at the manor house. Something sickly sweet and decaying wood were the inside odors. They went down to the basement, but this time it was different. Cleaner. as if it had just been used recently. Evangeline Blythe's dusty journal was on the table. In its pages, rituals, soul transfers, and a chilling line were described in detail: "The vessel and the soul must match. The transformation is pure only then. Names were listed on the last page. Marissa. Clara. Lena is also at the bottom. The glass cabinet broke behind them. Dozens of dolls simultaneously turned their heads. The temperature in the room dropped to freezing. “You took her place,” a whisper floated through the air. She now takes yours. Clara had vanished. As porcelain hands clawed at his legs and dragged him into the shadows, Jake screamed. Lena tried to run, but she was held down by hands that weren't there. A chilly, unnoticeable force was pressing against her mouth, drowning out her screams. In the broken mirror, she saw that her eyes were no longer her own—glassy and unblinking. Her hands stopped moving. Her joints became stiffer. Her throat was holding her breath. Then—silence. The following morning, Briar Manor was once more quiet. Still. A new addition was a doll with wide eyes, chestnut hair, and a red dress in the basement cabinet. As if praying, she had her hands tightly clasped. Lena was never seen again. However, if you pay close attention outside the manor on certain nights, you can hear the whispering dolls waiting for their next visitor and the soft clink of porcelain feet on wood. --- Want a second part? Lena may be sought out by a new individual, or the curse may begin to spread beyond the manor.