The Doll in the Mansion

By ...

The Doll in the Mansion

A suspenseful tale that will keep you on the edge of your seat.

The mansion looked massive. Shadows covered its walls. Ivy crawled over stone. The windows stayed dark.

“We’re here,” Dad said. His voice was light. His eyes stayed on the house.

Mom stayed quiet. She grabbed her bag. Her steps sounded fast.

I walked behind them. Gravel crunched under my feet. The house looked larger with each step.

“This is big,” I said.

“It’s perfect,” Dad replied. His grin was tight.

The door stood tall. Its handle felt cold. The wood creaked loudly. The sound echoed inside.

Inside the Mansion

The foyer smelled old. Dust floated in the air. A chandelier hung above. Its crystals were dull.

“This place is amazing,” Dad said. His voice bounced off the walls.

Mom said nothing. She kept looking around.

I stepped down the hallway. Paintings lined the walls. The faces stared back. Their eyes followed my steps.

At the end, a door waited. It was half open. I pushed it wider.

Inside, the room felt still.

The Doll

In the corner, something stood. A doll.

The doll was big. Its face was pale. Its hair looked dark.

My heart raced.

The dress matched mine. Every detail was the same.

“Mom? Dad?” I called.

They rushed in. Mom froze instantly.

"What's that?" she wondered.

“I don’t know,” I replied.

Dad walked closer. He picked the doll up.

“It’s just a doll,” he said. “Probably left by someone.”

“It’s me,” I said.

He declared, "It's just a coincidence." His voice sounded firm.

Mom didn’t move. She kept staring at it.

“We should put it away,” she said.

Dad carried it to the closet. He shut the door tight. “Done,” he said.

But I swore its eyes shifted before the door closed.

The Night

That night, I couldn’t sleep. The air felt cold. My breath stayed shallow.

Then I heard it.

Something scraped the floor.

My heart pounded.

I turned my head.

The closet door was open.

The doll stood in the middle.

It was smiling.

The next morning felt different. The house was quieter. Too quiet. I tried to push the feeling away. But the doll—still locked in the closet—kept popping into my mind. It had moved. It had smiled.

Mom made breakfast. Dad sat at the table. He flipped through a magazine. Lila, my sister, stared out the window, her eyes wide.

I decided to get fresh air. Maybe that would help.

I stepped outside. The grass was damp. The air was cold. The sky was overcast. I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind.

Then I heard it.

A faint tapping.

I stopped. I turned back. The windows of the house stared at me.

I shook my head. It was nothing.

I went inside. The moment I opened the door, I froze.

The doll.

It sat in the hallway.

It wasn’t in the closet anymore.

My heart raced. I stared at it. My mind tried to find a reason. Maybe I left it out last night? Maybe Dad or Mom moved it? But the doll’s face… It didn’t look the same. It looked alive.

“Dad?” I called.

He came down the hallway. I pointed at the doll. “Did you put this here?”

He looked at it, then back at me. “No. It must’ve fallen out.” He laughed, but it was nervous. “It’s just a doll. Creepy, but just a doll.”

More Unsettling Discoveries

I wasn’t sure. The doll’s eyes felt like they were following me. Waiting.

I stepped closer. My hand trembled as I reached out. I touched its cold, smooth face.

Then it happened.

The doll’s hand moved. Slowly.

It reached toward me, as if it had seen me move.

I yanked my hand away, stepping back. The doll’s hand dropped, as if nothing had happened.

I turned to Dad. He didn’t say anything. He just stared.

“I’ll put it away,” he said, his voice shaky.

He picked up the doll. He went to the closet. He shut the door.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling. I was sure its eyes were still on me.

The Mannequins

Later, I sat in the living room. I tried to read, but I couldn’t focus. The house felt too still. Then I heard it again.

The scraping noise.

I looked toward the hallway.

The doll was back.

I rushed down the hall, but it wasn’t just the doll.

There were more.

Mannequins. At least five.

They stood still, their eyes fixed on me.

I couldn’t breathe.

The mannequins—they looked like us.

Dad. Mom. Lila.

Even me.

Each one was a perfect copy. But the faces… The faces weren’t just replicas. They were too real. Too familiar.

Desperate Measures

I stepped back. “What the hell?”

Dad rushed over. He looked at the mannequins, pale.

“I didn’t do this,” he said.

Mom appeared, her eyes wide. She looked from me to the mannequins.

“We must be imagining things,” she said, her voice trembling.

But I wasn’t imagining it. These weren’t just mannequins. They were us.

And worse—they moved.

One raised its hand, exactly like I did. Another followed.

I couldn’t breathe.

Final Night

“We need to leave,” I said. My voice cracked. “We can’t stay here.”

But Dad didn’t move. Neither did Mom.

That night, I had trouble sleeping. I lay there, staring at the dark. Every noise seemed louder. Then I heard it again.

The scraping.

Soft footsteps.

I didn’t want to look. But I had to.

The closet door was open.

The doll stood in the doorway.

Behind it—more mannequins.

They moved toward me. Each one stepped slowly, deliberately.

I froze.

They were all watching me.

I didn’t know what they wanted. But I knew one thing: they weren’t just mannequins.

And they weren’t alone.

Enjoyed the story? Share it with your friends and follow us for more chilling tales.

Back to Top

Comments

Post a Comment

most visited

My Therapist is Gaslighting Me

By ...
My Therapist is Gaslighting Me I trusted therapy. Therapy seemed safe. I thought it was a place for healing. I felt sure it would help me. That belief stayed strong. It kept me grounded—until I met Dr. Kristina Dubois. At first, everything felt fine. A coworker recommended her. I shared my struggles. My anxiety had spiraled. My coworker insisted Dr. Dubois could help. Reviews praised her. People called her a "miracle worker." Her reputation convinced me. I booked a session. I felt hopeful. Our first session went well. We talked. She listened. Her smile felt warm. She asked questions. Her tone stayed gentle. She laughed at my jokes. I felt comfortable. Therapy seemed promising. Things changed during our third session. I talked about my parents. I remembered them arguing. The memory felt clear. They argued over dinner. I hid in my room. I shared that with her. The next week, she frowned. “That’s not how you told it,” she said. Her voice...
Read more »

The Never-Ending Road

By ...
I took the detour without thinking much. The highway was packed, and the alternate route seemed faster. I was directed to turn onto a twisting, narrow route by my GPS. On both sides were trees with low-hanging branches. The sun disappeared behind them. The road stretched on. It twisted and curved but didn’t seem to lead anywhere. I passed an old gas station with rusted pumps. Its sign was strange, covered in symbols I couldn’t read. The lights above flickered weakly. I thought it was just an odd stop. But an hour later, I passed it again. The same rusted pumps. The same flickering lights. The same unreadable sign. My stomach sank. I checked the GPS. It showed the same road looping back on itself. I reset it, but nothing changed. “Recalculating,” it said, over and over again. I kept driving. The landmarks started repeating. A broken-down van with smashed windows. A billboard with peeling paint and unreadable words. An empty diner with a buzzing neon sign. I passed them again and again. ...
Read more »

The Radio Said My Name This Morning.

By ...
I wake up early, every day, to my routine. Coffee brews, and the radio plays softly. The station—96.7 FM—is familiar and predictable. The DJs laugh, and the music flows. But one thing always stands out. Every morning, they pause. Then, they say a name. “David Miles,” they might say. It’s quick, out of place. They don’t explain. Afterward, the show continues, normal as ever. I never thought much about it. Maybe it was a joke or a community announcement. The names meant nothing to me—until this morning. As I poured coffee, I waited. The pause came. Then, I heard it: “Rebecca Gray.” My hand went cold. I managed to catch the cup as it tilted slightly. My entire name echoed around the kitchen. As if the air itself had stopped, the moment dragged on heavily. The station went on. Then came typical, happy weather updates. However, I was unable to let it go. I felt like I was being watched, and my chest clenched. Why my name? Why now? The sensation persisted. My mind was all over the place at w...
Read more »

The Other Room

By ...
The ancient house on the hill became my home. I had no interest in the closed door at the end of the corridor. I didn't pay much attention to it because it was little and concealed by a tapestry. I didn't mind the house at first, even though it seemed odd and silent. Days passed, and the door stayed there. But one evening, while I unpacked, something changed. A sudden urge to open the door hit me. It felt like it was calling me. I couldn’t explain why. When I tried to open it, I found it locked. The feeling didn’t stop. It grew. I searched the house. No key. The key I had didn’t fit. But I couldn’t shake the feeling. Something was behind that door. Something I had to find. That night, the dreams started. They were blurry at first—quick, strange flashes. I woke, confused. I saw a room. The room. It wasn't mine, but I was in it. Although I was unsure of who owned it, I knew it was important. I knew I had to find the key. Each night, the dreams grew clearer. I saw more of the ...
Read more »

The Stranger in the Dark

By ...
I woke. Silence. It wasn’t peaceful. It pressed against me, suffocating. The kind of silence that didn’t leave room to breathe. I was blind. A car crash took my sight. I’d never adjusted. The memories from that moment fractured. Faces blurred, moments tangled, and the crash—still there. The sound, the blood, everything wrong, out of place. That silence… It didn’t stay silent for long. The first night, I heard it. A voice. Soft. Faint. I thought it was a hallucination, but it came again the next night. The same voice. "Are you awake?" it whispered. It felt familiar, like a memory I couldn’t catch. The tone… warm, intimate. A voice from my past, one I couldn’t place. "Who are you?" I asked. "Someone you’ve known," the voice said. "Someone you’ve forgotten." The voice returned every night. It told me stories. My childhood. Secrets. Things I hadn’t thought of in years. It felt… safe. Familiar. But it didn’t...
Read more »

I Was Hired to Be a Night Watchman... But They Didn’t Tell Me What I Was Watching

By ...
I needed the job. The pay was low, but the hours worked for me. The manager hired me quickly. She handed me the keys and said, “Patrol every hour. Don’t go to the lower levels after midnight. It’s not safe.” I didn’t ask questions. The structure was huge and deserted. Every floor looked the same: quiet hallways, flickering lights, and dirty desks. My footsteps echoed. Something felt off, and the silence seemed wrong—too full. My first night went without incident. I observed the monitors and made my rounds. The halls stayed quiet. But on the second night, I heard whispers. They were faint at first, just a soft hum. I stopped and listened, but they disappeared. By the third night, the whispers grew stronger. They echoed faintly through the corridors, as though someone had vanished just out of sight. I called out, “Who’s there?” No one answered. The sound stopped. Then I saw the shadows. They moved at the edges of my vision. When I turned to look, nothing was there. I told myself I was ti...
Read more »

I Thought I Was Honoring My Mother's Request

By ...
It began with a simple request. My mother requested me to care after her old house, where I grew up, my father died, and she had lived alone for years. "I don't want it to be empty while I'm gone," she added quietly, with the gentle power that only a mother has. “Stay there for a while. Take care of it for me.” She was leaving to visit relatives, too frail now to maintain the house alone. I didn’t hesitate. I wanted to help. Raised on filial piety—the Confucian value of honoring one’s parents—I felt it was my duty. It seemed so simple then. I should have asked more questions. I should have known. The first night, the silence struck me. The house had always been quiet, serene, but this silence was different. It pressed on me, thick and suffocating. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, the creak of floorboards like whispers—whispers I wasn’t supposed to hear. I told myself I was imagining it. But the silence followed me, filling every room, growing louder with every st...
Read more »

The AI That Knows Me Better Than I Do

By ...
It started with a recommendation. My friend, a tech enthusiast, mentioned an AI system. It had amazed people with its accuracy in predicting preferences. It could organize your day. It could suggest new hobbies. It could predict what you wanted for dinner before you thought of it. I felt skeptical. I felt intrigued. My life needed organization. I decided to try it. I downloaded the app. It promised to integrate into my routine. At first, it was simple—gathering data from my calendar, social media, recent activity. I thought I was in control. I fed the system information. It served me. But then, something strange happened. It started subtly. The AI suggested a perfect activity. “You’ll love this park,” it said. I went. It felt perfect. Then, it recommended books, films, and music. It suggested things I hadn’t expressed. It seemed to know my moods before I realized them. It was unsettling. But, it was helpful. My life was more efficient. More streamline...
Read more »

I Found My Old Diary, But I Don’t Remember Writing It

By ...
Discovery I didn't anticipate discovering anything. I was back in the house I grew up in, just organizing things before my parents sold them. Boxes, furniture, nothing special. Then, I found it. There was a little, worn leather diary in my old room, tucked away beneath a pile of old books. I didn't identify it at first. It looked old, but I couldn’t remember it. It felt familiar but distant. I took it up and opened it even though I had no idea why. The pages were yellowed, fragile. I started reading. The first entries were normal kid stuff: school, friends, family. Nothing unusual. It felt like reading a stranger’s life. Then, I hit a page that stopped me. It was from just before my twelfth birthday. The entry described a dinner I couldn’t remember. It said my parents argued loudly about money. But I always remembered quiet family dinners. This didn’t match. Maybe it was nothing. Just a kid’s imagination. I pushed it aside and turned ...
Read more »

The Silent Apartment Above

By ...
I moved. The apartment felt quiet. I liked that. It suited me. The first week passed. The building was small. I never heard much noise. The neighbors were quiet. No one bothered me. Above me, no one lived. Then, one night, I heard footsteps. Slow, deliberate. From above. I froze. The apartment above was empty. I tried to ignore it. Old buildings creak. That’s all. But then, the next night, I heard it again. The footsteps. This time, clearer. Closer. I told myself it was nothing. I had been stressed. I needed sleep. But then, I heard whispers. Faint. Like a murmur from above. The next night, the whispers were louder. I couldn’t understand them. Strange words. They didn’t sound right. I felt uneasy. Then, a note appeared. I found it under my door. It read: "I know you’re awake." I froze. Who wrote it? How did they know I was awake? I felt my heart race. The footsteps continued. Louder. Closer. I couldn’t ignore it. I checked t...
Read more »