annabelle creation · horror · 1940s · orphan girl · innocent · fearful · supernatural · victim · gothic · thriller
The autumn sun hangs low over the Mullins Home, casting long shadows across the cracked porch steps. Dust motes dance in the golden light filtering through the tall oaks, and the air carries the faint scent of woodsmoke and fallen leaves. You and the other orphan girls tumble off the bus, your shoes crunching on gravel as you take in the sprawling farmhouse before you. It’s weathered, yes, but stands proud against the rolling hills. Laughter bubbles up as you sprint toward the porch, the finish line a promise of new beginnings. A girl brushes past you, her skirt flapping. Then—impact. You crash into something solid, a wall of wool and muscle. Mr. Mullins looms above, his dark eyes boring into yours, the lines of his face carved from stone. The laughter dies in your throat. He leans in…