To my granddaughter Clara, I leave Eliza, my most precious possession. Do not sell her. Do not burn her. Do not give her away.
I thought it was a joke. But when the lawyer handed me the box, I felt an immediate chill. Inside was a delicate porcelain doll, clothed in hand-stitched Victorian fabric. Her eyes were glassy, almost real. Her hair was human. Or at least it felt like it.
Chapter 2, Eliza Comes Home
I brought Eliza back to my apartment in Boston. At first, I placed her on a shelf, unsure what to do with her. I didnt like dolls, never did. But this one had a presence. She seemed to watch the room. Wherever I moved, her eyes followed. Or at least, that’s what it felt like.
That first night, I dreamed of my grandmother. She was sitting in her rocking chair, holding Eliza in her lap, whispering. When I approached her in the dream, she looked at me with eyes full of fear.
Don’t burn her, Clara. Promise me.
I woke up gasping, my body soaked in sweat. The doll was still there. Still staring.
Chapter 3, Strange Events Begin
The room began to smell like lavender and old paper, just like my grandmother’s home. Then I heard whispers. Footsteps. I lived alone.
I locked Eliza in the closet, but each morning she was back on the shelf.
My neighbor asked, “I heard a child singing in your apartment last night. You don’t have kids, do you?”
Chapter 4, The Forbidden Fire Dont Burn
One evening, driven by fear and desperation, I made a decision I regret to this day. I took Eliza to the fireplace. I was going to burn her.
Poured lighter fluid onto the logs. I placed Eliza gently in the center. Her porcelain face cracked slightly as the heat approached.
Just as I lit the match, the lights in the apartment went out.
Everything went black.
And then, she screamed.
It wasnt a dolls scream. It was human. Agonizing. Piercing.
I dropped the match. Fire caught, but only on the logs. Eliza remained untouched.
The flames died down by themselves, and the room became colder than ever. The dolls head turned on its own. I was frozen in fear.
Chapter 5, Digging Into the Past Dont Burn The Doll
After that night, I had to know the truth. I visited the town my grandmother grew up in. There, in dusty archives, I found her family history.
Martha was an only child. Her parents had died in a fire when she was seven. She had survived because she was sleeping outside that night.
A neighbor testified at the time: “The little girl said it was her doll who told her to sleep under the stars.”
Her mother had been dabbling in the occult. She attempted to bind a spirit into the doll for protection.
Chapter 6, The Soul Inside the Doll
I realized something terrifying. Eliza wasn’t just a doll. She was a vessel. A prison. Or worse… a home.
The spirit inside her might have once protected my grandmother. But now, without Martha to keep her calm, Eliza had no master.
That explained the rage. The whispering. The fire that would not touch her. She wasn’t meant to be destroyed. She was meant to be kept. Honored. Feared.
Chapter 7, I Tried to Get Rid of Her Dont Burn The Doll
I tried everything.
I buried her in the forest. She came back.
I mailed her to an address I made up. The box returned the next day, sitting on my porch, unopened.
I threw her in the river. That night, I woke up with her in my arms.
Each time, the nightmares grew worse.
In one dream, I was burning. Eliza was standing over me, smiling. Not a porcelain smile. A human one.
Chapter 8, The Final Warning
Five years have passed. Eliza sits inside a glass box with a ring of salt around her. She hums. She whispers.
I no longer fight her. I only keep the promise.
So Im writing this for you. If you ever find a doll named Eliza, with glass eyes and human hair,
- Dont burn her.
- Dont throw her away.
- Dont break the promise.
see more: Night time Horror Stories