A Tale of Porcelain

As a child, Lexie had loved playing with her dollhouse. It was a beautiful Victorian mansion with intricate details and tiny furniture that she could rearrange to her heart's content. But as she grew older, the dollhouse lost its appeal, and it ended up collecting dust in the attic.

Years later, when Lexie inherited her childhood home after her parents' death, she found the dollhouse in the attic, covered in cobwebs. She took it down and dusted it off, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over her. She decided to keep it in her bedroom, hoping it would bring her comfort.

But soon after, strange things began to happen. Lexie would wake up in the middle of the night to find the dollhouse had moved from its spot on the shelf. At first, she thought she must have accidentally bumped into it, but the movements became more deliberate and calculated. She tried to brush it off, telling herself it was just her imagination, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

One night, Lexie woke up to find the dollhouse on her nightstand, the tiny front door open. She leaned closer to inspect it and saw that one of the dolls, a porcelain figure with a frilly dress and a painted smile, was missing from its room. Lexie searched the entire house, but the doll was nowhere to be found.

The next morning, Lexie woke up to find the missing doll on her pillow, its painted smile seeming to taunt her. Lexie's heart raced as she realized that she hadn't put the doll there. Someone, or something, had.

As the days went on, the strange occurrences continued. The dollhouse would move on its own, doors and windows would open and close, and Lexie would hear strange noises coming from the tiny rooms. She tried to tell herself that she was being ridiculous, but the fear was too great to ignore.

One night, Lexie woke up to the sound of laughter coming from her bedroom. She sat up in bed, heart racing, and saw that the dollhouse was glowing in the moonlight. She got out of bed and walked towards it, feeling a strange pull. As she got closer, she saw that the dolls were alive, moving and talking amongst themselves.

Lexie tried to run, but her feet wouldn't move. She was rooted to the spot, watching in horror as the dolls surrounded her. The porcelain doll with the painted smile reached out and touched Lexie's face, and she felt a coldness wash over her.

When Lexie woke up the next morning, she was lying on the floor next to the dollhouse. The dolls were back in their original positions, and everything seemed normal. Lexie tried to convince herself that it had all been a nightmare, but the memory of the porcelain doll's touch lingered.

Days turned into weeks, and Lexie tried to put the incident behind her. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. One night, as she was getting ready for bed, she heard a faint scratching sound coming from the dollhouse. She leaned in closer to listen, and heard a voice whisper, "I'm still here."

Lexie screamed and ran out of the room, never to return. She sold the house and the dollhouse soon after, unable to bear the thought of the porcelain doll with the painted smile watching her every move.

To this day, Lexie doesn't know what happened in that room with the dollhouse. But she knows that she'll never forget the feeling of the cold porcelain hand on her cheek and the whisper of a voice that promised to always be there, waiting.