FORGOTTEN SOUL

FORGOTTEN

No one remembered when the house was last alive.

The windows had long forgotten light. Dust clung to everything like it belonged there, and the air carried a silence too heavy to be natural.

But the doll…

The doll was untouched.

It sat against the wall exactly where it had always been.

Watching.

Waiting.

Its glassy eyes reflected the broken window across the room, catching faint light that never seemed to reach the floor. Cracks ran across its porcelain face like something inside had tried to break out once… and failed.

Or maybe

It hadn’t failed.

A floorboard creaked.

Soft.

Careful.

Not the kind of sound the wind makes.

Someone was inside.

The door had been locked for years. Everyone in the village knew better than to come here. They told stories  quiet ones, the kind people only shared when they were sure no one else could hear.

About the girl.

About what happened to her.

And about the thing she left behind.

Another step.

Closer now.

The doll didn’t move.

But something changed.

A faint shift in the air. A feeling  like being watched by something that didn’t blink.

The footsteps stopped.

“I shouldn’t be here…” a voice whispered.

Too late.

The doll’s head tilted

Just slightly.

A crack spread across its cheek with a soft, splitting sound.

And then…

It smiled

Long before the house fell into ruin…

before the whispers, the deaths, the locked doors

Dolores was just a child.

She lived in a quiet town called Asheville, where mornings smelled like fresh bread and evenings ended with soft lullabies drifting from open windows.

She was kind. Gentle.

The kind of girl who spoke to flowers like they could answer.

“Dolores,” her mother would say, brushing her hair by the window, “you’ve got such a soft heart.”

Dolores would smile.

But lately…

Something had changed.

At night, when the world fell silent, she would hear it.

A voice.

Soft at first.

Barely there.

“Dolores…”

She would sit up in bed, clutching her blanket.

“…come find me…”

Her room would be empty.

Always empty.

One night, the voice didn’t fade.

It followed her into sleep.

The dream felt too real.

Dolores stood in a dark place  cold, endless, like the inside of the earth. There was no sky, no ground she could understand… just shadows that moved like they were alive.

And then

A girl.

Pale.

Still.

Watching her.

Her voice was soft… almost like a song.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Dolores.”

Dolores’s lips trembled. “Who are you?”

The girl smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“They call me… Lullaby.”

The shadows around her stirred.

“I am the one they buried. The one they forgot.”

She stepped closer.

“You can hear me because you’re like me.”

Dolores shook her head. “No… I’m not…”

“You are,” Lullaby whispered. “And you will come to me.”

The air tightened.

“You will find me… and you will set me free.”

“Dolores!”

She woke with a gasp.

Her mother stood over her, worried, shaking her gently.

“You were talking in your sleep again,” she said softly. “You kept saying… ‘Lullaby.’”

Dolores stared at her.

“…She’s real.”

Her mother forced a small smile. “It was just a dream, sweetheart.”

But Dolores knew better.

Morning came like nothing had happened.

The sun was warm. The town was alive.

And yet… Dolores couldn’t shake the feeling that something was waiting.

Watching.

“Come along,” her mother said, taking her hand. “We’re going into town.”

The marketplace was full of color and sound.

But Dolores wasn’t looking at any of it.

Something was pulling her.

Not a sound.

Not a sight.

A feeling.

She stopped in front of a small wooden stall.

And there it was.

A doll.

Old. Cracked. Quiet.

Its eyes seemed… too real.

“Mom,” Dolores whispered, pointing. “That one.”

Her mother hesitated. “That thing? It’s a bit… unsettling.”

“Please.”

Something in Dolores’s voice made her pause.

“…Alright.”

From that day on

Dolores was never without the doll.

She named it nothing.

Because somehow…

It already felt like it had a name.

Weeks passed.

Then months.

And the voice came back.

Stronger.

Clearer.

“Dolores…”

She would sit in her room, clutching the doll tightly.

“I’m trying,” she whispered. “I don’t know where you are…”

“Come to me.”

One evening, unable to take it anymore, she told her parents.

“There’s a girl,” Dolores said. “Her name is Lullaby. She talks to me.”

Her father sighed. “Enough of this, Dolores.”

“I’m serious!”

Her mother knelt in front of her. “Sweetheart… you just have a big imagination.”

Dolores’s hands tightened around the doll.

“They won’t listen,” the voice whispered.

“No one ever does.”

The house was quiet that night.

Too quiet.

Dolores stood at the top of the basement stairs, holding the doll.

Her heart pounded.

“…Hello?” she whispered.

The door creaked open.

Slowly.

Like it had been waiting.

The basement was cold.

Dark.

And not empty.

A figure stood in the corner.

Still.

Watching.

“Lullaby…” Dolores breathed.

The girl stepped forward.

Her face pale.

Her smile wrong.

“Why didn’t you come?” she asked softly.

“I… I didn’t know how…”

“I begged you,” Lullaby said, her voice tightening.

Dolores took a step back. “I’m sorry”

The doll slipped from her hands.

It hit the ground with a dull thud.

Lullaby’s head snapped toward it.

Slowly…

She bent down.

Picked it up.

Her fingers traced the cracks.

“…I loved this doll,” she whispered. “But Mama took it away from me.”

Dolores swallowed. “Why?”

Lullaby looked up.

And for a moment—

Something in her face changed.

Something not human.

A scream tore through the house.

Footsteps thundered down the stairs.

“Dolores!”

Her parents burst into the basement

And froze.

Two girls.

Their daughter.

And another.

Both lying still.

Unconscious.

Days passed.

And out of pity…

They let Lullaby stay.

But as they carried her up the stairs—

She smiled.

Just for a second.

Cold.

Knowing.

Dolores’s mother paused.

“…Did you see that?”

Her father shook his head.

“No.”

But something had already come into their home.

And it wasn’t leaving.

At first… nothing seemed wrong.

Lullaby barely spoke.

She moved quietly through the house, her footsteps almost… soundless. Dolores stayed close to her, drawn in a way she didn’t understand.

But the house

The house began to change.

Doors creaked open at night.

Footsteps echoed when no one walked.

And sometimes… Dolores would wake up to find her doll sitting somewhere she hadn’t left it.

Watching her.

“Did you move it?” she asked Lullaby one morning.

Lullaby tilted her head.

“I don’t touch things that aren’t mine.”

Her voice was soft.

Too soft.

Days turned into weeks.

Then

It happened.

Dolores stood by the old well behind the house, her hands trembling.

“I don’t want you anymore,” she whispered to the doll.

The air felt thick. Heavy.

“You’re not normal.”

The doll said nothing.

But its eyes

They felt alive.

With a sharp breath, Dolores threw it into the well.

The sound echoed.

Gone.

That night

She woke up.

Cold.

Slowly… she turned her head.

The doll sat on her chair.

Wet.

Mud clinging to its cracked face.

Dolores screamed.

It didn’t stop there.

The doll followed her.

No matter where she went.

No matter what she did.

And one night

It moved.

Dolores felt it before she saw it.

A presence.

Right behind her.

She turned slowly

The doll stood upright.

Its head tilted.

Its tiny hand lifted

And then

It grabbed her hair.

Hard.

Dolores shrieked as she was yanked backward, falling to the floor.

“STOP!” she cried, clawing at it.

But the grip tightened.

Stronger than it should have been.

“YOU’RE MINE,” a voice whispered.

Not from the doll.

Not from the room.

From everywhere.

Her parents rushed in.

And what they saw

Changed everything.

“We can’t keep her like this,” her father said, his voice shaking.

“That’s our daughter,” her mother whispered, tears streaming down her face.

“No…” he said quietly. “It’s not.”

Dolores screamed.

Cried.

Begged.

“I won’t touch it again! I promise! Please don’t do this!”

But fear had already taken over.

They placed her inside a wooden box.

Dark.

Tight.

Airless.

And beside her

The doll.

Chains wrapped tightly around it.

“Mom! Please!” Dolores sobbed, pounding against the wood.

“I’m sorry,” her mother cried from outside. “I’m so sorry…”

The lid closed.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

Inside

Silence.

Then

A soft voice.

“So… you finally came.”

Dolores froze.

“Lullaby…?”

A quiet laugh.

“You still don’t understand, do you?”

The chains… began to rattle.

“I was never the girl you saw.”

A pause.

“I was always with you.”

The wood creaked.

Something shifted in the darkness.

“I am the doll.”

Dolores screamed.

Outside

Her parents pressed their hands against the box, crying.

“This is for the best,” her father whispered, though his voice broke. “It has to be.”

They left the box in her room.

Locked the door.

And never opened it again.

Days passed.

Then silence.

No more screams.

No more crying.

Eventually…

They left the house.

Forever.

New families came.

One after another.

Drawn by the cheap price.

The quiet town.

The “perfect” home.

They never lasted.

On the first day

Everything felt normal.

On the second

They heard things.

Whispers.

Footsteps.

Crying from inside the walls.

On the third

They were found dead.

Every time.

No marks.

No struggle.

Just fear frozen on their faces.

And somewhere in the house

A soft lullaby would echo.

Years later…

A group of teenagers stood outside the house.

Laughing.

Recording.

Daring each other to go inside.

Viola stood at the back, arms crossed.

“This is stupid,” she muttered.

“Oh come on,” one of her friends said. “It’s just a story.”

“Yeah,” another laughed. “No ghosts. No cursed dolls.”

The door creaked open.

Inside

The air felt wrong.

Heavy.

Like something was breathing.

Watching.

Waiting.

The house had been empty for years.

But the box

Was gone.

The house didn’t kill them immediately.

It played with them.

It made them see things.

Hear things.

Turn on each other.

One by one

They broke

They died.

Viola ran.

Screaming.

Crying.

Desperate.

And somehow

She made it out.

She never told anyone what she saw inside.

Because some things…

Should never be spoken.

Far from the town…

Viola lived alone.

Quiet.

Isolated.

Trying to forget.

But back in Asheville

The house still stood.

Waiting.

Watching

Listening

One weekend

A new group arrived.

Laughing.

Confident.

Ready to prove everyone wrong.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” one of them said.

They stepped into town and rented the house for the weekend.

They  had just settled in when they saw a girl sitting on the rocking chair singing a lullaby

"What's your name"one of them asked

She turned her head and said

"Dolores"

And then

The screams began.

And they didn’t stop.

~~~~~Nyrixawrites~~~~~