The Haunted Doll
In the attic’s shadowed by gloom,
Lies a doll in a dusty box.
Porcelain face, cracked and pale,
Eyes that follow, cold and frail.
At night, the air grows thick with dread,
As whispers stir beside the bed.
The doll’s head turns, a creaking sound,
Empty sockets scanning ’round.
Soft footsteps echo on the floor,
A giggle, then a muffled roar.
The doll’s hands move, a subtle twitch,
A sinister, unholy glitch.
Once a child’s cherished friend,
Now a toy for spirits to pretend.
Her painted lips curl into a sneer,
A silent scream, a frozen tear.
They say at night, she leaves her place,
Wandering through the darkened space.
Objects shift, and shadows play,
As the doll seeks her next prey.
A family once took her in,
Unaware of the looming sin.
At dinner, plates would crash and fall,
A warning sign, a chilling call.
One cold day, they left in haste,
Unable to endure the haunting’s place.
The doll remains, her eyes aglow,
Awaiting the next to overthrow.
So if you find her, cold and still,
Beware the curse, the evil chill.
For in her gaze, a story told,
Just a haunted doll, and a story of old.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (3)
Omg good
I am not a fan of Anabelle or some would say Chucky's friend. Your image reminds me of her. Your poem and image gives me chills.
"A beautifully crafted poem with vivid imagery and a haunting atmosphere. The suspense and eerie details make it truly captivating. An excellent creation!"