Hi. Uh... I'll-

I'll tell you why I am writing this later. But I have to write this.

My life and everyone's life I love depends on it.

So uh, in June of 1887, a family of two mothers and two daughters met a horrible fate. The house was burned down after they died and the bodies were never found, but I trust that no matter you guys will believe me.

Well apparently a little girl had a doll. A beautiful doll that she played with everyday. It was a six foot tall perfectly proportioned doll.

The doll had pretty pink cheeks and lips to match with curly red hair tied up in pigtails with blue bows. She was life size and a very expensive ball jointed doll. Her hands were jointed along with her toes and wrists and ankles. Her skin was shaded like a human's and she had big, brown, glassy eyes.

The doll wore a bright lavender corset and a long, frilly, poofy, black skirt that covered her knee joints. She had black ballet shoes decorated with lace.

And to think she had found it in the attic.

Annie, the little girl's big sister hated the doll with all her might. She wrote at least seven pages in her diary about how she wished that her mother and step mother would get rid of it. They never got rid of it, which sealed their fate.

Well, Annie had school the next day and the little girl, who we shall name Alice, had gone to bed without dinner because she had written all over the walls and claimed Babydoll told her to do it.

When Alice went to go play with her beloved doll, something was wrong. Her hair was jet black like someone dipped it in ink and her eyes had been... bigger and purple. Alice noticed her ink spilled on her desk and another one of her doll's eyes missing.

She backed away from the doll, fear written all over her childish face.

Now, I don't know why, but the doll stood up. Her jointed fingers balled into a fist as she walked towards Alice. She fell onto her bed and the doll picked up a letter opener, a heart at the top. She picked up a needle and thread.

Let's call this doll Babydoll, just as Alice had.

Babydoll strung the thread into the needle and took the sharp point to the little girl's wrist, the edge of her wrist, and began pressing through. Sewing her arm to the bed. She repeated the process to the other wrist, and smirked at the screeches of terror and pain that filled the room.

There were footsteps coming up the stairs and the doll moved the mattress down to the floor. Below the bed, were about twenty feet of rope keeping the straw bed elevated. She grabbed the rope and waited for the two mothers to burst in.

Once the two fragile women came in, and Babydoll shoved them into two little chairs from a small table with a tea set perfectly set. She wrapped the rope tightly around the waist of the two, tying them to the chairs back to back.

Alice looked at her mothers, straining her neck to not have the pain shoot back up her arms from the string.

Babydoll smiled and took the length of the rope that was left and cut it off with the letter opener. She tied it into a noose.

"Now. You guys stay here while I go get sissy!" The doll smiled and left.

About five minutes later the doll came back dragging Annie back into the room, choking her with the noose. Babydoll tied her to the bed and twisted her wrists, dislocating them. "There. Now you can't get away."

She took out a box of matches, lighting a few candles that weren't lit already. The human like figure displayed a happy grin as she watched the wax melt. Taking the candle, she walked over to Alice and dripped the wax into a shape of a heart on her chest, the wax seeping through the cloth and burning the girl.

The two women tied together started to cry and scream, the sound echoing in the white room. Annie made a sound that was a cross between a scream and a muffled choke, pulling the noose tighter as she tried to help her sister.

"Ah ah ah, speak clearly young lady. How do you expect to get any friends speaking like that?" She bent down next to Annie. "You know, I read your diary. And how you think I should burn. Maybe you should do the same." She picked up a book from Alice's shelf. It was a simple twenty page storybook.

She held a match over the paper as it lit up in a dance of hot, red, swirling flames. Babydoll yanked the teenager's mouth open, pulling down and dislocating her jaw. She set the burning book in her mouth, shoving it down her throat as she tried to scream but just ended up having tears roll down her red cheeks.

Babydoll hummed a happy tune of London Bridge Is Falling Down as she left once more. Coming back with a small bottle of vodka and pouring it on the floor around the mothers and onto their laps. She lit another match and let it fall to the circle, lighting the circle on fire and catching half the room on fire.

She ripped Alice from her bindings and laughed as the screams from the two ladies and from the girls erupted. She dragged Alice to the living room and left her there, bleeding out. The blood had caused the blue corset and the blue ribbons in her hair to turn to a purple.

Her fingernails were stained a bright red and she licked the blood from her articulated fingers.

The putrid smell of burning flesh arose and Alice scrunched up her face. The doll ripped a necklace from Alice's neck that had a key on it and shoved her to the floor, lighting another match before tucking the box gently into her corset.

She ripped the bottom half of her skirt off, revealing her jointed legs as she ran her hand up her back to find a hole. She found one and shoved the key in, turning it and she left the house. A music box version of Fur Elyse chimed as she walked into the dense forest.

Now. How do I know all this in such great detail? Well... Recently I found a pretty, life size doll with black hair and purple eyes laying by my door.

I went and found some more research about the house too, and with Babydoll's oh-so-detailed comments, was able to string together the story of where Babydoll came from, and here it is.

Her name was Lillian. She was pretty for a ten year old, with black hair down to her waist-She was born with Alexandria's Genesis, which made her have violet eyes and very pale skin- but she was still pretty, and she was often compared to a doll, which didn't bother her because her mother was a doll maker.

They had moved to England from Russia when her mother got a bit more popular and started to make a bit more money. And since there was a peaceful house in the countryside where it wasn't fucking freezing, her mom thought it would be a good idea.

When she actually turned eight she asked her mom for a doll. She drew a picture of one and handed it to her, at first her mother wasn't so sure, it wasn't the prettiest or well coloured doll. But for the love of her spoiled little girl she made it.

It had curly red hair that was done up into twintails with blue bows, and a corset that matched the blue. The ball jointed doll wore a skirt that covered her knee joints, a skirt that was black and had multiple layers. Her eyes where a glassy, chocolate brown and she had pretty rosy cheeks to match. The lips where painted a light pink and her shoes were simple ballet flats.

Lillian, of course, loved it beyond any other toys she had. When her mother gave it to her, she also gave her a key, and told her that she installed a music box so that when they were dancing and doing "high class" tea parties they would have some entertainment.

The little girl was thrilled. She listened to the music once she woke up, at lunch, she listened to it while she was playing. She played it on the piano and violin during her lessons, she hummed it when she was dancing, and fell asleep to the tune everyday. She was addicted to it.

Well, all little girls grow up. And they grow out of their toys and habits, it's just what happens. Lillian was different than other girls, the girls who got rid of their dolls. She kept Babydoll on a rocking chair in the corner of her room.

Until one day she got very sick. When she was of age sixteen she was lying on her deathbed from what would soon be known as the Black Plague, an airborne disease that was at the time, untreatable.

And she died that year, which left her heartbroken mother in a very bad position. Her mother of course, also caught the illness on her way out of England, going to France to continue her work. She left everything behind. But she took the doll and locked it in the attic, along with all her daughter belongings.

Well you know how people say ghosts are spirits that are just attached to the thing they are haunting? That's what happened.

On a much more extreme scale.

Lillian's spirit was attached to the doll, and she soon found how to possess it in a way that she can walk around, touch stuff. Interact with things.

In the 1880's a family moved into the house, with a pretty little girl named Alice, and so her dear blood lust started.

Now you should know that Lillian had a fairly good life, she wasn't bullied, beaten, she didn't have any enemies. The only really traumatic thing that happened was her dad leaving her and her mother. So it is questionable why she would do what she did to this family, but she got kinda addicted to it.

I guess that's just what an angered spirit does.

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