DOLL OF PETCHI

People said every village had a spirit that protected it.

But in this village, Petchi didn’t protect.

She collected.

The house near the forest had been locked for decades. Every night, villagers heard a bell, then a scream, then silence. By morning—someone was always missing.

That night, Raghav and his sister Meera moved in.

Upstairs, Meera noticed a doll on a wooden shelf.

Dark cracked skin. Eyes stitched shut. Mouth curved unnaturally.

“Raghav… yeh doll normal nahi lag rahi,” she said.

Raghav shrugged.

“Purana ghar hai yaar, ignore kar.”

The doll’s head tilted.

That night at 3:17 AM, Meera woke up to humming.

Hmmm… hmmm…

The doll stood beside her bed.

“Raghav… please… light on karo…”

The stitched mouth moved.

“Main khelna chahti hoon…”

Lights flickered. Air turned cold. The smell of burnt hair filled the room.

Raghav ran in and grabbed the doll.

“Bas! Subah isse phek denge.”

The doll’s neck twisted backward with a loud CRACK.

“Petchi ko chhoda nahi jaata…”

At 3:33 AM, Raghav felt pain in his hand.

The doll sat on his chest—its mouth ripped open, chewing his fingers.

“Chilla mat… aadat ho jaayegi.”

Bones snapped.

The bed grew black nails, pinning his body down. Blood crawled up the walls.

Meera screamed,

“Mujhe kuch mere andar hilta hua feel ho raha hai!”

Her stomach pushed outward—small handprints from inside.

A woman’s shadow crawled out of the doll.

Long hair. Broken neck. Feet twisted backward.

“Meri gudiya… wapas do…”

The doll split open.

Inside was a beating human heart.

“Isse tod do… phir main ruk jaungi.”

Raghav crushed it.

Silence.

Then laughter.

The floor opened like a mouth. Hundreds of hands dragged Raghav down, peeling his skin layer by layer. His scream died when his tongue was torn out.

Meera ran to the hallway mirror.

Her reflection smiled.

She didn’t.

“Ab meri baari hai bahar aane ki,” the reflection said.

Her neck twisted.

Bone came out.

Next morning, villagers found the house quiet.

On the shelf were three dolls now.

One with broken fingers.

One with stitched lips still screaming.

And in the middle—

The original.

The Doll of Petchi.

That night, somewhere in the village, a bell rang.

A child woke up.

A doll sat near his bed.

It blinked.

“Khelna hai?”