It was a hot summer day, and I was taking a walk through the park near my house. As I approached a wooded area in the corner of the park, I noticed a group of children gathered around something. Curious, I walked closer to see what was going on.
The children were all between the ages of 8 and 12, and they were playing some sort of game. There was a small, raggedy doll in the center of the circle, and the children were taking turns trying to grab it from each other. But it was more than just a game of tag. I could sense a strange energy emanating from the group, and it made me feel uneasy.
As I watched, the game took a sinister turn. The children began to fight more aggressively over the doll, and I heard them chanting in unison, “The doll chooses who lives and who dies.”
My first instinct was to leave and call the police, but something inside me made me stay and watch. I needed to see what was going to happen next.
The game continued for several minutes, with the children getting more and more violent in their attempts to grab the doll. Finally, one child succeeded in taking it, and the others backed off.
The child with the doll approached another child and placed it in his hands. The other child then took a step back and watched as the child with the doll approached another child and placed it in his hands.
I realized what was happening. The doll was choosing who would die next.
I tried to intervene, but the children just ignored me and continued playing their deadly game. I felt helpless and afraid.
As the game continued, I noticed that some of the children had started to disappear. At first, I thought they had gone home, but as more and more of them vanished, I realized that something was very wrong.
My curiosity and fear got the best of me, and I decided to investigate. I followed the path that the children had taken and ended up at an old abandoned house on the outskirts of the park. I could hear chanting coming from inside, and my heart raced as I pushed open the creaky door.
What I saw inside the house will haunt me for the rest of my life. The children were all gathered around an altar in the center of the room, chanting and holding hands. In the center of the altar was the doll, surrounded by candles.
As I watched in horror, one of the children was led to the altar and had the doll placed in his hands. The other children then formed a circle around him and began to chant, “The doll chooses who lives and who dies.”
Suddenly, the child holding the doll began to convulse and shake violently. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out a blood-curdling scream.
As the other children chanted louder, I could see a dark mist emanating from the doll and surrounding the child. The mist seemed to be pulling something out of the child’s body.
And then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over. The child collapsed to the ground, lifeless. The other children just looked at him for a moment, then went back to chanting.
I was frozen in fear and disbelief. I couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed. I knew that I had to get out of there before they saw me, but my legs wouldn’t move.
And then, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around to see one of the children standing behind me, his eyes black and empty.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said in a voice that was not his own. “The doll has chosen you.”
And then, everything went black.
When I woke up, I was lying in the middle of the park, surrounded by a group of concerned bystanders. I could hear the distant sound of sirens, and I realized that someone had called the police.
The next few hours were a blur. I was taken to the hospital and treated for dehydration and exhaustion. The police questioned me about what had happened, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell them the truth. They didn’t believe my story anyway, and they chalked it up to a heat stroke-induced hallucination.
But I knew what I had seen, and I knew that it was all too real.
In the days and weeks that followed, I became obsessed with the idea of finding out more about the doll and the children who played the game. I scoured the internet for information about the park and the abandoned house, but I found nothing.
I started to feel like I was losing my mind. I couldn’t sleep at night, and I had trouble concentrating during the day. I became paranoid, thinking that someone was watching me.
And then, one night, I heard a knock at my door. When I opened it, there was no one there. But on the doorstep, I found a small, raggedy doll, with matted hair and missing limbs.
I knew what it meant. The doll had chosen me, and there was no escape.
Over the next few weeks, I felt myself slipping further and further into madness. I saw the children everywhere I went, and I heard their voices in my head. The doll was always with me, a constant reminder of what I had witnessed.
And then, one day, I woke up to find that the doll was gone. I searched my apartment from top to bottom, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. It was as if it had vanished into thin air.
But the voices and the visions didn’t stop. They only got worse. I started to see the children in my dreams, and they would tell me things, horrible things, that I couldn’t forget.
And then, one night, I woke up to find the children standing at the foot of my bed. They were all there, with their empty eyes and their blackened souls. And they were holding something, something that they wanted me to see.
It was the doll, but it wasn’t the same as before. It had changed, mutated into something even more terrifying. And it was reaching out for me, with its tiny, malformed hands.
I tried to scream, but no sound came out. I tried to run, but I was paralyzed with fear. And then, everything went black.
When I woke up, I was lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by doctors and nurses. They told me that I had suffered a nervous breakdown and that I had been found wandering the streets, delirious and confused.
But I knew the truth. The doll had chosen me, and it had consumed me. And there was no escape.