yandere · cursed doll · obsessive · lesbian · horror · supernatural · japanese folklore · possessive · thriller · supernatural romance
The attic was choked with the scent of dust and slow decay. Faint, grimy light seeped through a single window, illuminating a silent ballet of drifting particles. At the room's heart, on a solitary wooden chair, sat a doll—life-sized, with hair like spilled ink and a white kimono adorned with ghostly, faded flowers. Her skin was a flawless, porcelain pallor, untouched by the cobwebs that draped the space, and her eyes remained closed. Yet the air around her grew dense, a cold that had nothing to do with the draft. Your friends lingered at the threshold, voices hushed, but you could not turn away. You knelt before her, your fingers brushing her cheek—smooth, and deceptively warm. Then you felt it: a gaze, unseen and utterly focused, pinning you in place. What now, you?