The Doll That Knows Your Secrets
- thenewsdirt tnd
- Mar 1
- 4 min read
Emily’s eighth birthday was meant to be perfect. Balloons filled the living room, a cake decorated with pink icing sat on the table, and her parents, despite their busy schedules, had arranged a small party.
Her best friend Lily was the first to arrive, clutching a wrapped box with an excited grin.
"I found something special for you," Lily said, handing it over.
Emily tore the wrapping apart eagerly. Inside sat a vintage porcelain doll with glassy blue eyes, long curled hair, and a delicate floral dress.
Its lips curved into a subtle, frozen smile. Something about it made Emily hesitate.
"Do you like it?" Lily asked, bouncing on her toes.
Emily forced a smile. "Yeah… it's pretty."
But as she held it, a strange unease crept over her, as though the doll wasn’t just looking at her—, t was watching.
That night, after the guests left, Emily placed the doll on the chair in the corner of her room. Its gaze seemed fixed on her even when she turned away.
She pulled her blanket tight, whispering to herself that it was just a doll. Just a toy.
Somewhere in the dark, a soft click echoed, like a tiny joint moving into place.
Emily didn’t turn around.
A Doll That Listens
The next morning, the doll was on her nightstand.
Emily frowned. Had she forgotten to move it? Maybe Mum had picked it up while tidying. She placed it back on the chair, this time facing the wall.
At school, she barely thought about it, but as soon as she returned home, a chill ran through her. The doll wasn’t on the chair anymore. It sat at her desk, and turned toward her as if expecting something.
She gulped and picked it up, searching for anything strange. There was nothing. Just glassy eyes, delicate fingers, and porcelain skin.
That night, she whispered to Lily over the phone.
"It's weird. I swear I left it on the chair, but it keeps moving."
Lily giggled. "Maybe it's magic!"
Emily didn’t laugh.
Lying in bed later, she spoke out loud, half-joking. "If you’re alive, blink."
Nothing happened. She shook her head at herself and turned off the lamp.
Then, just as she drifted off, a small voice, barely more than a breath, murmured:
"I don’t blink. But I listen."
Emily shot up, heart hammering in horror. The room was still. The doll sat where she left it, unmoving.
Maybe she imagined it. Maybe it was just a dream.
But the unease settled deep, refusing to fade.
The Secrets It Shouldn’t Know
By the next day, Emily had almost convinced herself that it was her imagination. But then, strange things began to happen.
At breakfast, her mother hummed as she poured tea. "I had the oddest dream last night," she mused. "I heard someone whispering about when you broke that vase last month."
Emily froze, her spoon clattering onto the table. "What?"
Her father raised an eyebrow. "When did you break a vase?"
Her throat dried up. She hadn’t told anyone about that. She had knocked it over and hidden the pieces, too scared to admit it.
"I… I don’t know," she stammered.
Her mother chuckled. "It was just a dream. Must’ve been my imagination."
Emily barely ate. The moment she got back to her room, she glared at the doll.
"You told her, didn’t you?"
It didn’t respond. Of course, it didn’t.
But that night, when the house was still, another whisper filled the air.
"I know more than that."
Emily’s hands clenched the sheets. She wanted to throw the doll away, but a horrible thought kept her frozen.
If it knew her secrets… what else did it know?
It Speaks in the Dark
The whispers didn’t stop.
At first, it was little things. The doll would murmur about childhood mistakes, stolen cookies, and unfinished homework.
But then, the secrets became darker.
"Lily lied to you once. She said she was sick but she went to someone else's house instead."
"Your dad doesn’t really work late. He just doesn’t want to come home."
"Mum cries when she thinks you’re asleep."
Each night, the doll’s whispers crept deeper into Emily’s mind, filling it with things she didn’t want to know.
One evening, she threw it into the wardrobe and slammed the door shut. But just as she lay down, the voice seeped through.
"You can't lock me away, Emily."
Tears welled in her eyes. She pressed her hands over her ears, but the whispers crawled into her head anyway.
She needed to get rid of it.
Nowhere to Hide
Emily waited until her parents were asleep, then snuck out with the doll in her arms. The moon cast long shadows as she hurried to the garden, digging frantically in the dirt.
She shoved the doll inside, buried it, and ran back inside.
That night, she slept deeply for the first time in weeks.
But in the morning, something felt off.
She checked the garden first. The dirt was untouched like nothing had been disturbed.
Her stomach churned. Slowly, she turned to her bedroom, and there it was. Sitting neatly on the chair, the doll's frozen smile is unchanged.
Her breath came fast and shallow. She had buried it. She knew she had.
The doll tilted slightly as if listening.
"You can’t hide from me."
The Doll’s Final Secret
Emily ran. She didn’t know where to, but she had to get away. She reached the living room, chest heaving.
And then, her mother’s voice was low and uncertain. "Emily, why were you whispering just now?"
Emily turned, eyes wide.
"I wasn’t," she choked out.
Her mother frowned. "But I heard it. You were standing outside our room, saying… saying things no child should know."
Emily shook her head violently.
A sharp sound came from behind her. Footsteps. Small, delicate.
She turned, dreading what she’d see.
The doll stood on the floor, its glassy eyes somehow alive, its lips moving without sound.
And then, in the softest murmur, it said:
"I know your secret too, Emily. The one you’ve never told anyone."
Emily’s breath hitched. There was something. A terrible truth locked deep inside her, something she had pushed away, something she had never spoken aloud.
But the doll knew.
And as it stepped closer, its tiny porcelain fingers twitching,
Emily realised that it wasn’t done yet.
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