The Wolfpack Post had a dozen scary short stories submitted for this year's contest, and the winning piece, titled "The Porcelain Curse," was written by senior Elizabeth Irvin. Read the winning story below, and Happy Halloween!
The Porcelain Curse
by Elizabeth Irvin
Mia and Mason had never been left home alone before. Their parents, Miranda and Adam were just... gone. Nobody knew why, and no one really cared to find out. At first, it was kind of fun. No rules, no nagging, no “clean your room.” just them in the big old house. But after a few nights, the silence started to feel weird.
On the third day, they went up to the attic to look for decorations. Halloween was coming, and the house felt too empty without them. The attic was full of dust, cobwebs, and old boxes that smelled musty.
“Maybe we’ll find something cool," Mason said, brushing dust off a box. “Like ghosts or something haunted.”
“Or maybe just boring old Halloween decorations,” Mia said, rolling her eyes.
Then Mason’s hand hit something hard. He pulled it out, and Mia froze. It was an old porcelain doll, with a cracked face and glasslike eyes, seeming almost real. Its black lace dress was faded and dusty, and something about it just felt off.
“Whoa,” Mason whispered. “Creepy... but kinda cool. Think it was Grandma’s?”
Mia frowned. “Mom never talks about her mom, or her sister.”
Mason looked up. “Mom has a sister?”
“She had one,” Mia said quietly, “A twin. She died in a fire before we were born.”
“Oh.” Mason looked at the doll again. “Maybe this was hers.”
They set it on a high shelf and kept digging through boxes, not really thinking much of it.
That night, weird stuff started happening.
Mia woke to footsteps in the hallway. Slow ones. When she opened the door, no one was there. But the doll wasn’t on the shelf anymore.
Mason started having nightmares. He said the doll called his name, whispering stuff he couldn’t remember when he woke up.
Over the next few days, things only got worse. Doors creaked open when no one was near them. Faint laughter came from rooms that were empty. Mia even caught Mason standing in the hallway one day, staring at the wall. When she shouted his name, he didn't move at first.
One evening, they decided to get rid of the doll. Mason reached for it, but the moment his hand touched it, the doll’s head snapped toward him. Both of them jumped back
“What was that?” Mia whispered.
“I... I don't know,” Mason said, his voice shaking. “It just moved.”
Later that night, Mia woke to a loud crash from downstairs. She ran to the living room. Everything was a mess, broken glass, lamps knocked over, furniture tipped. Mason stood in the corner, pale and still.
“Mason?” She said, her voice shaky.
He turned his head slowly “I don’t know what happened,’ he said quietly.
After that, Mason wasn’t himself anymore. He barely talked, barely slept. And sometimes, Mia could swear she saw the doll’s reflection in his eyes.
Mia couldn’t take it. One night, she grabbed his hand. “We’re leaving,” she said.
They ran out the back door, through the yard, and into the woods behind the house. Branches scraped their arms, and the wind sounded like whispering and howling, then they stumbled on an old shed.
When Mia opened the door, she froze.
Their mom was sitting in a chair, perfectly still. Her eyes were open, but lifeless. Her skin looked pale and waxy, like porcelain.
“Mom?” Mia whispered.
No answer.
Then footsteps creaked behind her. She turned. It was her dad, Adam, his eyes blank, expression empty. He covered her mouth before she could scream. Then suddenly both parents slowly looked down at the floor. There was a trapdoor, half buried under dust and dirt.
Mia looked at Mason, and they opened it together.
The basement below was cold and damp. Shelves lined the walls, filled with porcelain dolls; some looked like people from the family portraits in the hallway. One looked like Mia, another like Mason.
“Mason,” she whispered. “Do you see that?”
A faint laugh came from the shadows. "I've been waiting,” it said.
An old frail and pale women stepped out, eyes glasslike and empty.
“Grandma?”, Mia Whispered.
The women smiled, “Every generation, twins are born. And one carries on the family curse”
“What curse?” mia asked. Her voice shook.
“Your mother tried to break it,” the women said. “But she couldn’t”
She pointed at the doll from the attic sitting on a nearby table. “That’s your mother’s twin; my daughter. She didn’t die in a fire like they said.”
Mia’s throat went dry. “Then... what happened?”
Her grandmother’s eyes glimmered. “I gave her to the curse. It was the only way to keep our bloodline strong. Every generation, one twin must stay.”
Mia backed up, Shaking her head. “You killed her?”
“I saved her,” the woman whispered. “She lives in that porcelain doll. And soon, Mason will join her.”
Mason’s body went rigid. His face lost all color, his eyes foggy and distant.
“Mason, don't. Please!” Mia yelled, grabbing his arm.
He turned to her slowly, his voice sounding doubled, layered with another. “She’s calling me.”
The doll on the table began to glow faintly, its cracked lips curving into a half smile. The whispers started again, soft, then louder.
“Join us,” the voices said.
Mason lunged at her. Mia stumbled backward, knocking over a shelf of old dolls. Porcelain faces shattered around them.
“Stop! Mason, it’s me!” She cried, pushing him off.
He didn’t stop. His hands wrapped around her throat for a second before he froze, trembling. His eyes flickered; the real Mason was trying to break through.
“Mia...” he whispered. “Run.”
Then the attic doll’s eyes flashed again. Mason screamed, his body shaking violently.
Mia snatched the doll and slammed it to the floor. It shattered, pieces scattering across the floor. Mason dropped too, hitting the ground hard.
“Mason!” She screamed, crawling to him. She shook him, tears streaming. “Wake up, please!”
His skin was pale and cold. Cracks, tiny ones, spread across his cheek, like porcelain.
Behind her, their grandma’s voice echoed through the dark. “You can’t kill the curse, my dear. It simply moves on.”
Mia backed away, heart racing, and ran out of the shed into the dark. Through the woods, past the house that had ruined everything. She didn't stop until the trees swallowed her whole. Their Grandma disappeared into the shadows. The dolls just... waited, and the house never let go.
Weeks later, Mia woke up in a bright room she didn’t recognize. The air smelled like pancakes and flowers.
“Mia! Breakfast is ready!” a woman’s voice called from downstairs.
She sat up slowly. Her head ached, and her memory felt foggy, like a dream she couldn’t hold on to.
The room was neat and sunny, except for one thing.
A porcelain doll sat on the dresser. Its face was cracked. Its eyes were brown and familiar. The small smile looked almost like Mason’s.
Mia stared at it, her stomach twisting. She didn’t know why, but she couldn't look away.
Downstairs the women called again.
“Coming,” Mia said quietly.
The doll’s head tilted just a little, and its glass eyes caught the sunlight.
Outside, the wind whistled through the trees. Somewhere far away, in a house long forgotten, faint laughter echoed through the dust.
And the curse waited.
Twins would be born.
The dolls would wake.
And the house would rise again.
The End.