In an old neighborhood wrapped in gloom, where every corner whispers forgotten stories, lived Leila, a nine-year-old girl with innocent features and eyes as wide as the gray sky of autumn.
Leila was a quiet child who lived with her mother, Nasreen, after her father disappeared under mysterious circumstances five years ago. There was no body, no trace—only his favorite shirt left on a chair and an open window leading into the night.
One day, while Nasreen was walking through an old market looking for second-hand toys for her daughter, a small shop caught her attention. It was narrow, dimly lit, and felt like stepping into the mouth of a sleeping creature. Above the door was a brass sign, now faded, reading:
"Toys from Another Time."
Inside, an elderly man sat behind a table, watching her silently with glassy eyes, as if he was a doll himself. Without a word, he reached under the table and pulled out a doll wrapped in black cloth, placing it in front of Nasreen.
"For her only… and no one else."
Nasreen, despite a strange shiver running down her spine, felt pity for the doll. It had the face of a small girl, with thick red hair, blue glassy eyes, and a dress made of old red silk.
She paid the small price without hesitation and returned home, thinking, Maybe this will make Leila smile again.
That evening, Nasreen gifted the doll to Leila. The child jumped with joy and embraced the doll as if it were a long-lost friend.
"I'll name her… Yasmin!" Leila exclaimed.
That night, Leila sat on her bed, talking to the doll as if it were a real person, as if it was listening and responding. Nasreen turned off the light and was about to close the door when she heard her daughter whisper softly,
"I promise, Yasmin… I won't tell anyone about the secret."
Part 2: Whispers
The days following Yasmin's arrival were quiet, but something began to change in the house.
Nasreen noticed strange things. Every morning, the doll would be in a different place—once on the kitchen window, once sitting at the dining table, and another time facing the wall. At first, Nasreen thought Leila must have been playing with it and forgetting to put it back in place.
But Leila insisted every day that she hadn't touched it.
One night, Nasreen woke up to the sound of soft footsteps moving down the hallway. Thinking it was Leila needing a glass of water, she went to her room. But Leila was sound asleep, hugging nothing in her arms. Yasmin, however, was standing at the door, staring at Nasreen with empty, glassy eyes.
The next day, Leila began to change. She grew silent, stopped eating, and began drawing strange images—faceless figures, shadows walking down long corridors, and black circles swallowing homes. When Nasreen asked about them, Leila only smiled coldly and said,
"Yasmin drew them."
At school, Leila’s friends began to distance themselves. She was once the popular girl, but now, her classmates avoided her, throwing things on her desk and mocking her hair and eyes. Even the teacher treated her differently, punishing her without reason.
Leila cried every day after school, whispering to the doll,
"Please, don't get mad at them. Please don’t hurt them."
And then the disappearances started.
Every time Leila cried… someone went missing.
Part 3: The Rituals of the Past
Nasreen became desperate. She brought in a sheikh to read prayers in the house. The sheikh, a calm man with a composed face, began to recite verses from the Quran. But after only a few minutes, he fell silent.
He stared at the doll with trembling eyes, then slowly rose from his seat and said,
"What you have brought into this house… is no mere toy."
When he reached for the doll, the Quran flew out of his hands and crashed against the wall. He left the house, muttering,
"This is not a place for reading… this is a place for burying."
That night, Nasreen heard Leila laughing in a strange way… it was no longer the laughter of a child.
When she opened the door, Leila was still sleeping, but Yasmin was sitting on her chest, staring straight at Nasreen.
"You should never have taken her from me." The voice was deep and full of malice.
Part 4: The Burial
Nasreen decided that she had to end this. That night, she waited for Leila to fall asleep and quietly took Yasmin from her arms. But the doll was unnaturally heavy, as if made of lead.
When Nasreen’s fingers brushed against its waist, it felt as though it was burning with heat, and Yasmin’s eyes slowly opened, staring directly at her.
"You are too late… I am already inside her."
The next morning, Leila was gone. There was only the doll, sitting on the bed, with traces of blood on its mouth.
Beside it was a note, written in Leila’s handwriting:
"I am no longer here… but I can see you. If you want to have me back, you must give up what cannot be replaced."
Nasreen lost her sanity. She stayed in the house for days, not eating, not sleeping, only staring at the doll.
Every day, the doll would move closer—first on the bed, then on a chair by the door, then on the pillow beside her.
Part 5: The Endless Hunger
A week later, Nasreen was gone. The house remained locked, and the neighbors complained of a strange smell, but no one dared to enter.
When the police finally broke in, they found only one thing:
The doll, sitting in the middle of the room, holding a human heart, still beating.
Part 6: The Return
Three years later, a curious young man named Sami wandered into the house. He was filming for his YouTube channel, searching for real-life ghost stories.
He walked through the house cautiously, describing each room to his viewers, chuckling nervously.
"This house is said to be haunted. A doll killed a child and her mother, and..."
He froze.
There was a sound coming from the back room.
A soft giggle… the giggle of a child.
He opened the door slowly… and there it was.
The doll.
Sitting on the bed, staring directly at him.
"The curse never ends."
He reached for it, touched it…
And then everything went black.
Sami woke up in the hospital, his face pale and his eyes glassy. He didn’t speak.
The doctors wrote it off as a nervous breakdown, but a nurse cleaning his room said something strange:
"Every time I entered, I could hear a child’s laughter coming from his closet."
The doll disappeared from the house that night.
It reappeared years later in another small shop, tucked away behind broken glass, with an old brass sign:
"Toys from Another Time."
If you ever come across it, don’t touch it.
Because Yasmin is still hungry.
And she’s still looking for a new body