Chapter 272

The first time anyone heard the doll sing, it was in a quiet little town in the midwest, a place most people would forget about by the end of the week. A town that barely made the news except for the occasional local accident or missing pet. But that day, the day the doll sang, changed everything.

It was Sarah Finch, a quiet woman in her thirties, who bought the doll. It was part of a new line of robotic toys released by a tech company, the kind that promised "advanced companionship." The doll looked innocent enough, sitting in its box with its porcelain-like face and glassy eyes. A little girl, they said.

But her smile was somehow too wide, the hair too perfect, the movements too smooth. It was the singing feature that sold Sarah, though—her little niece had just turned four, and Sarah thought it'd make a perfect birthday gift.

It wasn't long after Sarah set the doll up that it began to sing. A soft lullaby, gentle and sweet. It was the first time she had heard the song, and it seemed harmless, even charming, at first. She smiled, but the smile soon faded. There was something off about the voice. It was too clear, too precise, too mechanical.

The melody was repetitive, almost as if it were playing on a loop. Sarah thought it might be a glitch, so she turned it off. But the doll kept singing, the same soft lullaby over and over, no matter how many times she pressed the button to stop it.

She packed the doll away, thinking it was just a malfunction. She left the store's number on her fridge, intending to call and return it. But the next morning, things got worse.

Her neighbor, an elderly woman named Mrs. Daniels, had been sitting on her porch when the doll's song reached her ears. Sarah noticed Mrs. Daniels slumped in her rocking chair later that day.

The woman had dropped dead, a faint trace of a smile still on her face. The local authorities ruled it as a stroke, but Sarah couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. It wasn't until that night, when she heard the song again, echoing from somewhere down the street, that she began to realize the connection.

The next few days were a blur of confusion and dread. The doll kept singing, louder and more persistent each time. The town started to notice, too. People gathered in small groups, talking in hushed voices about the doll's curse. But it wasn't just the song. People were dying. Not all at once, but in strange, unexplainable ways. Heart attacks, strokes, sudden, violent seizures.

And then, the doll moved.

It wasn't like someone physically took it and set it down somewhere else. No, the doll teleported. No one could explain how or why, but suddenly it was in a new location, its song echoing through another house, another street, and another town. The town's first instinct was to burn it, but it was too late. The doll was gone before they could even set a match to it.

It had spread.

Within hours, news stations were reporting the same thing happening all over the world. Cities. Towns. Rural places. It didn't matter where you were. The doll would show up. Always the same: its song. Its voice. And with it, more bodies.

The world grew frantic. Some people tried to stay ahead of the doll, thinking they could outrun it. But the doll was faster, always one step ahead, appearing in places where it shouldn't be. As if it were following them. The deaths, though, were always the same. The moment the song reached your ears, you would fall. No one knew why. No one understood what happened to the people who died. But no one came back.

For a while, earphones became a kind of protection. Everyone wore them. People put them on, not just for music or podcasts, but to block out the doll's song. They couldn't even risk hearing a note, not even the faintest sound. People could walk freely as long as they kept their ears covered. It was a temporary fix, but it was all anyone had left. No one was safe, but at least they could stay alive, for a while.

Sarah, though, was still trying to figure it out. She kept the doll, even though it terrified her. It didn't sing for her, not anymore. But every time she looked at it, she could almost hear its voice. Its terrible, hollow sound. A sound that had driven people mad. No one had ever figured out where the doll came from, or who had made it. No one ever asked.

But then, one day, the unthinkable happened. Sarah woke up to find the doll right in front of her, staring at her with its cold, glass eyes. The song filled the room, that soft lullaby, distant and drawn out. And this time, something had changed. The song wasn't mechanical. It wasn't a glitch anymore. It felt… real. And there was something in the voice now, something darker, something that wanted to be heard.

Sarah pulled the earphones from her nightstand and shoved them into her ears, but it didn't work. The song blasted through, louder than ever before, reverberating in her skull, rattling her bones. She couldn't escape it. She could feel the pull of it, an irresistible force that gnawed at her, drawing her closer to the doll.

She didn't want to move, but she couldn't help it. She crawled toward it, her hands shaking, her body cold with dread. The song wrapped around her, drowning out every thought, every emotion.

And then, just as she was about to touch it, she collapsed. Her body hit the floor, lifeless, just like the others. She didn't know if the doll had done it or if it had been her own mind, overwhelmed by the relentless sound. It didn't matter. Her death wasn't the end.

Sarah's body was found days later. The doll was gone, once again.

By then, the doll was everywhere. It didn't matter where people ran anymore. There was no place untouched by its song. It appeared in the streets, in empty apartments, in faraway villages. Each time, more people died. No one could escape it. The songs kept getting louder, deeper, more... insistent.

Some tried to find the creators of the doll, but they were long gone. Others tried to destroy it, but nothing worked. Fire didn't burn it, water didn't drown it. It couldn't be destroyed. It couldn't be stopped.

As the years passed, the world slowly crumbled. The survivors lived in constant fear, trapped in places where silence could be found. They sealed themselves away in soundproof rooms, covering every surface, blocking every sound. They could feel it though, like a presence that lingered, waiting for the next person to slip up. There was no hope. Not anymore.

Sarah had once been among the many who tried to find a solution, to uncover the reason behind the doll's song. She had searched tirelessly, but in the end, the answer was simple: the doll had no reason. It just was. And now, it would never stop.

Her last thought, before the darkness took over, was that she had become just another footnote in a world that had stopped caring long ago. She had always thought there was something inherently wrong with the doll, something wrong in the way it looked, the way it sang.

But it was only in her final moments that she understood the truth: it wasn't the doll that was cursed. It was the world. The song was just a symptom of a much larger sickness that had long since consumed everything.

The doll sang. And the world died.