The doll’s curse lingered in a dusty attic,
Beneath cobwebs and forgotten memories,
Where shadows whispered of past misdeeds
And echoes of laughter long since lost.
Gossamer draped like spectral thieves,
A doll sat motionless, with glassy eyes,
Its eternal gaze fixed through the past,
Silent, it spoke of secrets long surpassed.
Once a cherished companion, now forsaken,
Its smile, a frozen echo; joy had waned.
The silence thickened, heavy with dread,
As the doll’s head turned with a creak, an unseen thread.
Moonlight filtered through the attic’s grime,
Casting shadows that twisted with time.
At night, when darkness wove its shroud,
The doll awoke, its curse unbound.
Porcelain limbs, once delicate, pure,
Moved now with a malevolent allure.
The doll’s eyes, glinting with ancient hate,
Became portals to a nightmarish fate.
As shadows deepened, the house would groan,
With a spectral wail, a mournful tone.
The doll’s curse, an eldritch spell,
Lured the unwary to a darkened hell.
Whispers floated on the cold, still air,
Of lost souls trapped in eternal despair.
The attic’s secret, buried in layers of dust,
A curse born of malice and betrayal’s rust.
Those who ventured into this cursed space
Found their lives erased without a trace.
Their screams, a haunting melody of fright,
Echoed in the attic’s endless night.
The doll remained, its gaze fixed and cold,
Guarding secrets dark and old.
Its eyes followed each unwelcome guest,
Their fate was sealed by a malevolent quest.
And as the years passed, its curse remained,
A timeless horror, eternally unchained.
The attic, a tomb of forgotten fears,
Bore witness to the doll’s eternal tears.
In silent watch, the doll endured,
A symbol of dread, with a curse that lured.
Its haunted presence, a perpetual blight,
Cast shadows dancing in the dead of night, restless and bright.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
