Short Horror Story

The Smile

Image by The Restless Soul

The package arrived on a Tuesday, nestled amongst the usual bills and flyers. No return address, just stark black tape holding the cardboard box shut. Curiosity gnawed at Sarah, a relentless itch beneath her skin. She pried it open, the air within thick with a metallic tang.

Inside, nestled in shredded packing peanuts, was a porcelain doll. The re­plica was not a cute, rosy-cheeke­d one, but rather an uncannily lifelike­ depiction of a woman in her late twe­nties. The detail was astonishing — the faint veins pulsing beneath translucent skin, the damp sheen of perspiration on her brow, the tiny, perfect teeth glinting in a grotesquely wide smile.

The smile. That’s what truly unsettled Sarah. It wasn’t a happy smile, nor a malicious one. It was a vacant, unhinged rictus, devoid of life yet disturbingly real. As Sarah lifted the doll, a single, dark hair snagged on her finger. It wasn’t porcelain. It was real. Human.

Panic clawed at her throat. This wasn’t a doll. It was…something else. She slammed the box shut, the metallic tang intensifying. A single, wet thump resonated from within, making her stomach churn. She couldn’t keep it.

Nightfall arrived, cloaking the city in an oppressive darkness. Sarah drove to a deserted park, the box a pulsating weight in the passenger seat. As she turned to open it, a faint gasp rumbled through her, sending shivers down her spine. The doll’s eyes, previously blank, were now locked on Sarah, filled with a chilling intelligence.

The grotesque smile seemed to widen, revealing a glimpse of something dark and fleshy beneath. A wet, glistening tongue snaked out, tasting the air. Before Sarah could scream, the doll lunged, its porcelain face cracking away to reveal a writhing mass of raw flesh and bone, the single human hair now a pulsating black vein.

The last thing Sarah saw was a terrifyingly familiar smile, stretched impossibly wide across a maw filled with countless, needle-sharp teeth. In the echoing silence that followed, only one sound remained — a wet, rhythmic slurping.