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    Horror doll Photograph by Peter Linforth, published 2017 A wretched effigy stands in the grip of some unseen force, its spectral gaze vacant yet knowing, its lips darkened as though by some infernal communion. No mere plaything, it serves as a vessel for something far older, far crueller, a presence that lingers in silence, waiting. The flowers, pitiable in their futile gaiety, mock the ruin they adorn, much like funeral garlands upon a crumbling tomb. One does not own such a thing—it claims those who dare to meet its hollow stare, drawing them into its silent dominion, where the whispers never cease and the darkness is never empty. ~ Anonymous   |
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