Support me on pat_reon.com/kapur69 (Delete "_") and read for 85 chapter ahead or more.
Disclaimer, i own nothing but my own idea.
-----------------
3rd Person POV
Under the glow of the moon that hung above the quiet town of Medford—its light falling gently on the Cooper family home—Georgie sat with a guitar resting on his lap. Beside him was Veronica, listening quietly as his fingers brushed the strings.
Unfortunately, they weren't alone.
Missy had followed them outside and now sat nearby, carefully brushing the hair of her doll.
"Are there dolls that use real human hair?" Missy asked, eyes fixed on both Georgie and Veronica.
Veronica turned to her slowly, brows raised. "Why do you want to know that?"
She didn't say it out loud, but Missy's question was... creepy.
Missy simply shrugged. "No reason. I just want to know."
Georgie stopped strumming. He looked up and locked eyes with Missy—calm, unmoving, with those cold blue eyes of his.
"Do you really want to know?" he asked, his voice low, deliberate.
Missy froze. She swallowed hard, feeling like the question held more than just a simple answer. Like a trap.
There were two possible answers: Yes, and No.
If she said Yes, she'd have to listen to whatever Georgie had to say next—and something deep inside her warned that she wouldn't like it. That this was the kind of story that crawled under your skin and stayed there.
But if she said No, well… she'd still be dying to know. It would be safer, sure. But the curiosity would eat away at her.
Curiosity.
Curiosity is what leads people to trouble.
Some survive.
Most don't.
Even Veronica stared at Georgie now, as if she wasn't sure if she wanted to hear whatever was about to come out of his mouth either. She turned slightly toward Missy, her gaze filled with the same uncertainty.
Missy hesitated, torn between the need to know and the fear of knowing.
Then, without a word, she stood up—and ran inside the house.
Georgie chuckled under his breath, shook his head slightly, and returned to tuning his guitar like nothing had happened.
Veronica let out a soft sigh and leaned into Georgie's side, resting her weight on him as if she were clinging to a sense of calm.
Georgie smiled down at her, then looked up at the moon above. He was just about to say something, when footsteps echoed from inside the house.
Missy had returned—this time dragging Sheldon behind her.
"Why did I have to come with you?!" Sheldon grumbled, his arm still being tugged.
Missy glared at him. "Shut up. I just need to know something."
She sat down in front of Georgie again, pulling Sheldon down next to her.
"Sheldon, I want to know… are there dolls that use real human hair?"
Georgie burst into laughter. Curiosity wins.
She didn't want to hear it from Georgie—but she brought in Sheldon as the safer route.
Veronica giggled too, amused at the idea that Sheldon might be the "key" to unlock the mystery.
Sheldon blinked, confused for a second. But then, he remembered reading about this a few years back—when Missy kept getting new dolls. He'd held onto that strange bit of knowledge, possibly waiting for a moment to repay her for something she did to him.
Before he could answer, a voice called from the back door.
"What's going on out here?" Mary stood in the doorway, arms crossed. She and George Sr. had been watching TV when they saw Missy rushing through the house, dragging Sheldon along.
Missy quickly repeated her question to Mary, and even she looked curious now—especially after seeing Georgie's earlier cryptic behavior.
"There are dolls made with real human hair," Sheldon finally said, proud to share his 'fun fact.' "In the 19th and early 20th centuries, especially in Europe, doll makers often used real human hair—or mohair, which is goat hair—for porcelain dolls like French bisque or German antiques."
"They mixed human hair with mohair to make the dolls look more realistic and luxurious." he added with confidence.
Everyone stared at Sheldon, who beamed with pride at his knowledge.
Then, slowly, all eyes turned to Georgie—waiting for his reaction.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Georgie asked, shrugging. "Sheldon already explained it. And yes… that's true."
He left it at that—just enough mystery to keep them wondering.
Missy frowned. Her curiosity didn't feel satisfied with Sheldon's textbook explanation.
Veronica, too, looked a little disappointed. The way Georgie had asked earlier, it felt like the answer wasn't just a fact—but a warning. Like he was silently asking them, "Are you sure you want to hear this?"
Mary and Sheldon didn't fully understand what had happened before they arrived. They'd only caught the end of the moment—but the way Missy and Veronica were still staring at Georgie, they could tell he must've done something to spark it.
Missy groaned as Georgie returned his focus to his guitar, acting like nothing had happened. Veronica, growing equally frustrated, pinched his side sharply.
"OW! What was that for?!"
Missy placed her doll on the table and leaned forward, eyes locked on Georgie.
"Tell me!" she demanded, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh of surrender.
"Whoa, hold on a second!" Mary raised a hand, looking at Georgie suspiciously.
"What are you all talking about now?"
Sheldon nodded eagerly, as if still clinging to the conversation.
"Yes! I already explained everything. Is there something you didn't understand? Was it the mohair part? Mohair is a fabric or yarn made from the hair of the Angora goat. It's durable and resilient, known for its luster and sheen. It's often blended with other fibers to enhance fabric quality."
He continued, voice full of pride, reciting facts like he was quoting an encyclopedia, but it's only make Missy groaned again and shot him a look that clearly meant shut the hell up.
"That's true, Shelly," Georgie added, grinning playfully. "Mohair's also used for suits, jackets—"
"Brother!" Missy snapped.
Her tone cut the air like a blade. Georgie paused.
She looked at him with that look—like a spark had been lit in her brain and now she wouldn't let go. Her eyes were wild with stubborn curiosity, and in that moment, she looked more like Sheldon than she probably realized.
Whatever Georgie had in his head, Missy was done playing games.
Georgie glanced around, giving them an awkward smile.
"Come on, guys. Why so serious?"
Missy and Veronica both snorted, arms crossed in perfect unison.
Georgie sighed. Just as he opened his mouth to deflect again, George Sr. stepped onto the porch.
"Why are you all still out here?" he asked, eyeing the group.
Georgie grinned. "Feeling lonely in there, old man? Want me to keep you company?"
He made a move to stand, but Veronica grabbed his arm, holding him in place with a warning look that wasn't particularly sweet.
"..." George Sr. looked at them all, then locked eyes with Mary, who gave him an awkward little shrug. She mouthed silently, I don't know, and offered a helpless smile.
"Okaaay…" George Sr. muttered, slowly sitting down beside Georgie.
All eyes were now on Georgie. And just as George Sr. was about to settle in, Georgie spoke.
"Do you all believe in ghosts?"
"Nope," George Sr. said immediately, standing back up. "I just remembered—I've got a report due tomorrow."
He caught Georgie smirking. The look said, Yeah, right.
So he sat back down and swallowed hard.
Sheldon shook his head. "No, I don't believe in ghosts. For me, strange phenomena always have logical, scientific explanations. Like air—you can't see it, but it's there."
Mary squinted at him. "Well, I've never seen a soul, but I know it's real. The Bible says so."
Missy grinned at Georgie. "I don't believe it either… but I really like the stories."
Veronica, on the other hand, was quiet. She looked like she wanted to stand up and leave, but instead, she swallowed and nodded slightly.
She believed… or at least part of her did.
Georgie nodded slowly, his eyes drifting toward Missy's doll on the table.
"When Missy asked about dolls made with real human hair… it reminded me of a story."
His voice lowered, more serious now.
No one interrupted.
Georgie looked around the group.
"Have any of you ever heard of the Okiku doll?"
Heads shook.
The internet hadn't made its way into every household yet. Kids relied on TV and radio, and most had never stumbled across something like this.
"Her name was Okiku," Georgie began, his tone almost reverent. He reached out and picked up Missy's doll from the table, handling it gently.
"She was a small doll from Japan. Sweet face. Big eyes. Long hair. Looked like any other doll… but she held a secret."
He turned to Missy with a subtle smile.
"There was once a girl named Kikuko. Her brother bought her the doll. Kikuko loved it more than anything. She slept with it. Ate with it. Talked to it."
Georgie slowly stroked the doll's hair with his fingers, gently brushing through it like one would care for a real child. The gesture sent an involuntary chill down George Sr.'s spine.
"She named it Okiku."
George Sr. felt a strong urge to yeet the doll across the yard—but held it in, swallowing instead.
Georgie's smile faded. His gaze became distant.
A hush fell over them. The warm Texas night seemed to grow colder, like something unseen had drifted across their necks.
"Kikuko and Okiku were inseparable… until tragedy struck."
His eyes flicked across every face.
"Kikuko got sick. She spent months in bed, holding her doll close—until the day she died."
Missy's face fell, her arms wrapping around her knees. The others sat quietly, a soft weight settling over the porch.
"She died with the doll in her arms," Georgie continued softly.
"But when it came time to cremate her, something happened."
"In Japan, it's tradition to cremate someone along with their most cherished possessions," Georgie said, looking at Mary and George Sr.
"But… the family forgot the doll. Or maybe… they just chose not to."
George Sr. whispered, "They wanted to remember her… through the doll."
"Yes," Georgie replied. "They kept it on their family altar, right next to her ashes."
The wind picked up just slightly, brushing through the trees. A few of them shivered.
"Then… strange things started happening in the house."
Georgie paused.
"The doll's hair started to grow."
Everyone stared at him, frozen.
"But the family wasn't scared," he said. "They believed Kikuko's spirit had entered the doll."
Sheldon frowned. "That doesn't make sense. Hair can't grow without active follicles. It's scientifically impossible."
"They didn't know that either. All they knew was… they had to keep trimming it. Eventually, they brought the Okiku doll to Mannenji Temple."
Georgie looked down at the doll in his hands again, brushing its hair back gently.
George Sr. cleared his throat. "...So... it's still there?"
"Yes." Georgie nodded. "The priests say the hair still grows to this day. They trim it regularly. Scientists even studied it in labs. They confirmed—it's real human hair. Childlike texture and structure."
Sheldon scowled, his brain buzzing with rational explanations. Maybe someone swapped the hair? Maybe it was a trick?
Veronica swallowed hard, her eyes locked on the doll in Georgie's hands.
"...Wha—what happened to it after that?" she whispered.
Georgie looked at her.
"The doll is still in the temple. But some visitors say... her eyes follow them when they move."
He grinned.
Veronica let out a quiet yelp and smacked his arm.
"OW—what?!"
The doll slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a dull thud.
"OKIKU!" Georgie gasped dramatically.
"WHAT THE HELL, GEORGIE?!" George Sr. barked, half-standing.
Even Mary, Missy, and Veronica jumped—but only George Sr. seemed genuinely panicked.
Sheldon, meanwhile, sat still—deep in thought, clearly trying to come up with a logical explanation as to why the doll's hair kept growing.
Georgie slowly picked up the doll with both hands, holding it as if it were something sacred… or cursed.
"You know…" he whispered, his voice lower now. "They say if you stare too long into Okiku's eyes… or mock her… she'll visit you in your dreams."
He clutched the doll tightly to his chest.
A smile—far too slow and too wide—crept across his face making a cold shiver ran through everyone's spine.
"She doesn't speak. She just stands there," Georgie murmured. "Staring… silent… Crying… because people made fun of her."
He looked up at them slowly, his eyes strangely glassy.
"Some say her spirit—Kikuko's—never moved on. She died suddenly, but her love for this doll kept her soul bound to it. Trapped inside..."
Then Georgie chuckled.
Not a funny chuckle—no warmth, no humor. Just… wrong.
"Some people believe the doll is cursed. They say anyone who disrespects it… is marked. Misfortune, warnings… or worse."
His laugh grew louder—sharper, almost manic.
Everyone stared at him now, frozen.
Mary looked terrified. Veronica reached for Missy's hand. Sheldon narrowed his eyes, unsettled but trying to remain rational.
Then suddenly, Georgie's laughter stopped.
His shoulders trembled.
And before anyone could speak—he collapsed to his knees, sobbing.
"…Tasukete… onii-chan…"
Dead silence.
The moonlight made everything feel colder.
There he was—Georgie—crying, hugging Missy's doll like a child. His body shook with each sob, as if something inside him had cracked wide open.
Nobody said a word.
A few seconds later, Georgie slowly released the doll and looked at them all.
One by one.
In complete silence.
He gently placed the doll back on the table.
Then sat back down in his chair.
"Phew... I think I'm calling it a night," Georgie muttered, stretching his arms. "Hooaahmm…"
Without another glance, he walked back into the house—Leaving the rest of them frozen, watching him disappear inside.
And there it was—The doll, sitting quietly on the table…
Its glassy eyes seemingly watching them in return.
---------
A/N : Anyway, did you guys know i upload new series?