The Cursed Doll

Legend has it that a specially crafted doll can absorb misfortune in place of its owner. However, if the doll is abandoned, the true misfortune will return—twice as strong.

At midnight, Jamie sat at her desk, absentmindedly tapping her fingers against the wooden surface. In front of her lay an anonymously mailed letter, its contents chillingly simple:

"Take care of her, or you will regret it."

Inside the envelope was an old, tattered cloth doll. Its stitching was crude, its eyes sewn shut with black thread, and its faded fabric bore faint traces of dried blood.

Jamie frowned, unease creeping into her thoughts.

"Another prank?" she muttered, but out of habit, she took a few photos, intending to show Sandra in the morning.

Just as she was about to set the doll aside, her phone rang.

"Jamie, don't go anywhere tonight." Sandra's voice carried an uncharacteristic urgency. "We've had several strange cases—each linked to a doll like this."

Jamie raised an eyebrow. "What kind of cases?"

Sandra hesitated before answering, her voice lowering. "Everyone who discarded one of these dolls… is dead. And their deaths were anything but ordinary."

A chill ran down Jamie's spine as she instinctively glanced at the doll beside her.

"How did they die?" she asked.

"One was strangled, the marks on their neck matching the stitches on the doll. Another was burned to death, yet there were no signs of fire in their home. And in every single case, investigators found a note at the scene."

Sandra paused before continuing, her tone grim. "It read: 'You abandoned her, so she abandoned you.'"

The air in the room suddenly felt suffocating.

Jamie shot to her feet, her gaze locked onto the doll. A deep sense of foreboding settled in her chest.

Then, from outside her window, a faint rustling sound broke the silence.

She turned sharply. The dim light cast a reflection on the glass—one that didn't match her own.

A pale, stitched-up face stared back at her.

Jamie's pulse spiked. She lunged for the window—only to find nothing there.

She inhaled sharply, locking the window before turning back—only to see that the doll had fallen to the floor. And its tightly sewn mouth… had slightly unraveled.

A cold shiver crawled up her spine.

"Jamie?" Sandra's voice called through the phone.

Snapping out of her trance, Jamie took a steadying breath. "Sandra… this doll needs to go."

"What do you plan to do?"

Jamie stared at it, resolve hardening in her gaze. "Return it."

—

Later that night.

Clutching the doll, Jamie arrived at the address written on the envelope. The place was an abandoned house, its structure weathered with time. The air reeked of mildew, and overgrown weeds covered the entrance, suggesting years of neglect.

Pushing open the creaking wooden door, she stepped inside. The dimly lit living room smelled of decay.

Then, a whisper brushed against her ear.

"You finally came..."

Jamie spun around—only to find the room empty.

She swallowed hard, placing the doll on a nearby table and turning to leave.

But the door slammed shut behind her.

She tensed, stepping backward as the temperature plummeted. In the dim light, a shadow unfurled in the corner of the room.

The figure slowly took shape—a woman with disheveled hair, her eyes stitched shut with black thread, her mouth stretched into an unnatural grin, revealing rows of jagged teeth.

"You… should not have abandoned her..."

Jamie's heartbeat thundered in her chest. Without hesitation, she reached for the protective talisman in her pocket, whispering an incantation before slamming it onto the doll's forehead.

The doll writhed violently, letting out an ear-piercing shriek as the entire room trembled.

"Jamie, get out of there!"

Sandra's voice echoed from outside, followed by the door bursting open.

Sandra rushed in, grabbed Jamie's arm, and pulled her toward the exit.

Boom!

The room collapsed behind them. The doll emitted one final, agonized wail before disintegrating into a swirl of black smoke.

Panting, Jamie stared at the pile of ash where the doll once lay. A lingering unease gnawed at her.

Sandra patted her on the shoulder. "Next time, don't keep strange objects around."

Jamie exhaled a shaky laugh. "Easy for you to say."

They exchanged a glance and finally allowed themselves to breathe.

But as they turned to leave, a faint whisper drifted through the night breeze—

"Did you really think it was over…?"