The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across Moon Valley's downtown as Salina Carpenter trudged past yet another "Help Wanted" sign. Her combat boots scuffed against the sidewalk with each reluctant step, the sound mixing with the tinkling of shop bells and idle chatter of weekend shoppers.
"You need structure, dear," she muttered under her breath, mimicking her grandmother's lecture from that morning. "A job will give you purpose. Help you meet new people." Salina rolled her eyes, adjusting the strap of her worn messenger bag as if folding sweaters at the mall would somehow transform her life.
A gust of spring wind whipped her black hair across her face, and she tucked the wayward strands behind her ear. Her fingers brushed against the silver skull earrings she'd bought at the oddities shop last week—the same shop now sporting a very prominent "NO HIRING" sign in its window.
"Traitors," Salina muttered, shooting the display of crystals and taxidermy ravens a betrayed look. The shop had been her last hope for finding employment that wouldn't make her want to gouge her eyes out.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Probably her grandmother checking up on her job hunt. Again. Salina ignored it, quickening her pace past the neat row of boutiques and cafes that lined Main Street. The sooner she got home, the sooner she could tell Mrs. Carpenter that no one in Moon Valley was hiring a seventeen-year-old goth girl with zero work experience.
"Excuse me, dear?"
The voice stopped Salina in her tracks. It was soft and refined, like old lace or antique china—the kind old ladies kept locked away in the cabinet and only brought out for special occasions. Salina turned, finding herself face-to-face with a woman who looked like she'd stepped straight out of a Victorian photograph.
She stood in the doorway of what Salina had assumed was an empty storefront, her tall frame draped in an elegant, cream-colored dress that seemed to shimmer in the fading light. Her blonde hair was pulled back in an intricate updo, not a single strand out of place. But it was her eyes that caught Salina's attention—a piercing gray that seemed to look straight through her.
"I couldn't help but notice you looking at the employment signs," the woman said, her pale lips curving into a smile that didn't quite reach those unsettling eyes. "Are you, perhaps, seeking work?"
Salina's first instinct was to say no. Everything about this woman screamed weird, and not in a good way like her favorite occult shop. This was more like the beginning of every horror movie she'd ever watched, where the protagonist ignores their gut feeling and ends up—
"I am, actually," Salina heard herself say, Nane's voice echoing in her head. Give people a chance, dear. You can't judge everyone by their cover.
The woman's smile widened. "How fortunate. I find myself in need of a babysitter for this evening. My regular help had to cancel at the last minute, and I have an important engagement I simply cannot miss."
Salina blinked. Babysitting? She'd expected something more like sorting through dusty antiques or cataloging Victorian death photos. Not watching some kid while their creepy mom went out for the night.
"I'm willing to pay quite generously," the woman continued, perhaps sensing Salina's hesitation. "Shall we say... fifty dollars an hour?"
Salina's eyes widened. That was way more than the minimum wage at the mall. Way more than any normal person would pay for a babysitter. Another red flag to add to the growing collection.
"That's... very generous," Salina said carefully. "But I don't really have any experience with kids."
The woman waved a delicate hand. "Oh, that won't be a problem. Baby-Boo is a perfect angel. Very well-behaved." She paused, those gray eyes studying Salina intently. "Though I understand if you're not interested. I'm sure I can find someone else who would appreciate such an... opportunity."
Baby-Boo? Who the hell names their child that? Salina shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of her empty wallet in her bag. Fifty dollars an hour would get her grandmother off her back about finding a job. And it was just for one night. How bad could it be?
"What time do you need me?" The words tumbled out before she could stop them.
"Wonderful!" The woman clasped her hands together. "Shall we say seven o'clock? Here's my address." She produced an elegant cream-colored card from somewhere in the folds of her dress and pressed it into Salina's hand. The paper felt oddly cold against her skin.
"I'm Mrs. Wright, by the way. Evelyn Wright." The woman extended her hand, and Salina shook it automatically. Mrs. Wright's fingers were ice-cold, her grip just a fraction too tight to be comfortable.
"Salina Carpenter," she managed, fighting the urge to wipe her hand on her black jeans when Mrs. Wright finally released it.
"What a lovely name," Mrs. Wright murmured. "I have a feeling you and Baby-Boo are going to get along splendidly." Something in her tone made Salina's skin crawl, but before she could respond, Mrs. Wright had already turned away. "Seven o'clock sharp, dear. Don't be late."
Salina watched as the woman glided back into the shadowy storefront, the door closing behind her with a soft click. The sun had dipped lower while they'd been talking, casting Main Street in deep purple shadows. A chill ran down Salina's spine that had nothing to do with the spring air.
She looked down at the card in her hand. The letters in the address seem to shimmer slightly in the fading light. 13 Raven's Way. Of course, it would be on Raven's Way—the creepiest street in Moon Valley, where all the old Victorian mansions loomed like gothic castles against the sky.
Her phone buzzed again, and this time Salina pulled it out. Two missed calls and a text from Mrs. Carpenter: Any luck with the job hunt, dear?
Salina's thumbs hovered over the keyboard as she debated how to respond. Finally, she typed: Found something, Nana. Babysitting tonight. Fifty dollars an hour.
The response came almost immediately: That's wonderful, dear! See? I knew you just needed to put yourself out there.
Salina pocketed her phone, trying to ignore the way her stomach churned. It was just babysitting; she told herself. One night of watching some spoiled kid while their weird mom went out. Easy money.
So why couldn't she shake the feeling that she'd just made a terrible mistake?
She turned away from the empty storefront, her boots clicking against the sidewalk as she headed home to change. The card felt like it was burning a hole in her pocket, and the late afternoon shadows seemed to stretch a little longer, a little darker than usual.
Seven o'clock. Just a few hours away. Plenty of time to talk herself out of this terrible idea.
But as Salina walked home, Mrs. Wright's words echoed in her head: Baby-Boo is a perfect angel. Something about the way she'd said it made Salina's skin crawl. She'd watched enough horror movies to know that nothing good ever came from perfect angels.
The sun dipped behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of blood red and deep purple. Somewhere in the distance, a crow cawed, the sound cutting through the quiet like a warning.
Salina quickened her pace, suddenly eager to get home before full dark. She had a feeling this was going to be an endless night.
The Victorian mansion loomed against the darkening sky like a rotting tooth, its weathered shingles and peeling paint a testament to decades of neglect. Salina killed the engine of her black Honda Civic motorcycle, double-checking the address scrawled on her phone. 13 Raven’s Way. Unfortunately, this was the place.
"Eight o'clock sharp," she muttered, eyeing the dashboard clock. "Don't want to give Creepy McCreeperson any reason to dock my pay."
The promise of fifty bucks an hour was the only thing that had dragged her out here on a Friday night. That, and her grandmother's incessant nagging about "responsibility" and "financial independence." As if working at Hot Topic in the mall hadn't been independent enough.
Salina grabbed her backpack—loaded with emergency snacks, her laptop, and the latest volume of "Beautiful Creatures"—and trudged up the crumbling front steps. The porch boards creaked ominously under her combat boots.
Before she could ring the bell, the door swung open with a drawn-out creak that belonged in a B-horror movie. The woman from the interview stood in the doorway, her tall frame draped in what looked like an actual Victorian dress, complete with a high collar and cameo brooch. Her gray eyes seemed to glow in the dim porch light.
"Precisely on time," the woman said, her voice carrying the crisp edge of old money. "I appreciate punctuality, Miss Carpenter."
"Thanks, Mrs..." Salina trailed off, realizing she had forgotten her client’s name.
"Wright. Evelyn Wright." The woman's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Please, come in."
The interior of the house matched its exterior—all dark wood paneling and faded wallpaper, with that musty smell particular to places that hadn't seen fresh air since the invention of television. Antique furniture crowded every corner, and honest-to-god oil paintings glared down from the walls.
"Baby-Boo is sleeping," Mrs. Wright said, leading the way upstairs. "I've just fed and changed him, so he should be settled for at least a few hours."
Salina nodded, though she couldn’t understand why the creepy woman named her infant Baby-Boo. When he grows up, everyone will make fun of him, calling him Mr. Boo or something worse. The stairs protested each step with squeaks and groans that echoed through the empty house.
The nursery, when they reached it, was like stepping into a time warp. Frilly lace curtains filtered the last rays of sunset, casting strange shadows across vintage wallpaper decorated with frolicking lambs and bunnies. A massive wooden rocking horse dominated one corner, its glass eyes reflecting the dim light.
And there, in an ornate wooden crib that probably cost more than Salina's car, lay Baby-Boo.
Salina's first thought was that someone had ordered a doll from Wish.com and gotten exactly what they paid for. The thing was fat and pale, with crossed blue eyes that pointed in slightly different directions. Its bald head gleamed dully in the fading light, and its diaper seemed to be the only thing it was wearing.
"Isn't he precious?" Mrs. Wright cooed, reaching into the crib to adjust the doll's position with disturbing tenderness.
"Uuuuuuuh, it's a doll." Salina wondered if it was too late to call in sick. Or move to Canada.
Mrs. Wright's expression clouded. "My real child was taken from me long ago. Baby-Boo is all I have left now."
"Oh! I'm... sorry to hear that." Salina shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond to this over-share from a unhinged woman.
"Baby-Boo has special needs," Mrs. Wright continued as if Salina hadn't spoken. "He requires feeding every four hours—the bottles are prepared in the kitchen. He may need changing. And sometimes..." She paused, her pale fingers stroking the doll's plastic cheek. "Sometimes he will get lonely and need extra attention."
"Right. Feed, change, attention. Got it." Salina nodded, already planning which horror movie to stream first.
"The bottles must be warmed precisely to body temperature. Baby-Boo is very particular about that." Mrs. Wright's tone grew sharp. "And he must be burped afterward. Sometimes he will get gassy."
Salina blinked. "The doll... farts?"
"Baby-Boo is a very special child." Mrs. Wright's eyes flashed. "He has many unique qualities. You'll see."
Great. A farting, peeing, pooping demon doll. This job just kept getting better.
"I've left detailed instructions on the kitchen counter," Mrs. Wright said, finally stepping away from the crib. "I should return by midnight. Do not leave Baby-Boo alone for any reason. Do you understand?"
"Crystal clear." Salina gave a mock salute that she immediately regretted when Mrs. Wright's expression darkened.
"I mean it, Miss Carpenter. Baby-Boo's safety is paramount." Mrs. Wright moved closer, her gray eyes boring into Salina's. "If anything happens to him while I'm gone, the consequences would be... severe."
A chill ran down Salina's spine. For a moment, Mrs. Wright's face seemed to shift, like something ancient and terrible lurking beneath a paper-thin mask.
Then the moment passed, and she was just a weird rich lady with an unhealthy attachment to an ugly doll.
"Okay, okay, no worries," Salina promised, mostly to get Mrs. Wright to back out of her personal space.
Mrs. Wright nodded once, sharply, then swept from the room in a rustle of skirts. Salina followed her downstairs, where the woman collected an antique handbag and paused at the front door.
"Remember, Miss Carpenter. Every four hours. And never leave him alone."
"Got it. Have a great evening!" Salina practically shoved the woman out the door, waited until she heard a car start up and pull away, then slumped against the wall with a groan.
"Four hours until demon doll feeding time," she muttered, pulling out her phone to check the time. "Plenty of time to start 'Leprechaun.'"
Salina raided her backpack for snacks and made herself comfortable on the living room's Victorian fainting couch. The TV was ancient, but it had Netflix, and soon she was lost in the familiar comfort of jump scares and creepy dolls that, unlike Baby-Boo, had the decency to stay in their movies where they belonged.
She was just getting to the good part when a sound cut through the dramatic music—a high-pitched giggle from somewhere down the hall.
Salina froze, remote halfway to her mouth where she'd been using it as a makeshift Cheeto scoop. That wasn't from the movie.
"Hello?" she called out, immediately regretting it. Everyone knew that was what stupid people in horror movies said right before they died.
The only response was silence, broken only by the muffled sounds from the TV.
"Jesus," she muttered, shaking her head. "I should be used to old creepy houses by-”
Another giggle, closer this time, cut through her self-reassurance like a knife.
It had come from the direction of the stairs.
From the direction of the nursery.
From the direction of Baby-Boo.
Salina stepped into the bedroom, her combat boots silent against the plush carpet. The room was like something from another century—heavy velvet curtains, an antique four-poster bed, and in the corner, an ornate wooden cradle where Baby-Boo rested. The doll's crossed blue eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling, its pudgy plastic arms arranged carefully at its sides.
"This is ridiculous," Salina muttered, running a hand through her black hair. "It's just a stupid doll."
She perched on the edge of the bed, as far from the cradle as possible while still monitoring its occupant. Something about Baby-Boo's vacant expression made her skin crawl. Maybe it was the way its head seemed too large for its body, or how its bald scalp caught the moonlight streaming through the window. Whatever it was, Salina couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong about the thing.
She pulled out her phone, desperate for a distraction. Jessica would laugh at her for being spooked by a child's toy. Salina dialed, but the call failed immediately.
No service—of course. The old Victorian house sat at the edge of town, practically swallowed by the dense woods that surrounded it. Mrs. Wright had mentioned something about the walls being too thick for good reception, but now Salina wondered if there wasn't another reason for the communication blackout.
"Come on," she muttered, holding her phone higher as if that might help. "Just one bar, please?"
A soft creak from the cradle made her freeze.
Salina lowered her phone slowly, eyes fixed on the wooden cradle. It rocked gently, as if stirred by a breeze—except there was no breeze. The windows were shut tight against the chill.
"Hello?" Salina called out, immediately cursing herself for falling into the classic horror movie trap. "Mrs. Wright? Are you still here?"
Silence answered, broken only by the steady tick-tock of the antique clock on the nightstand. Salina's eyes darted to the cradle, where Baby-Boo—
Where Baby-Boo should have been.
The cradle was empty.
"No," Salina whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs. "No, no, no."
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She shot to her feet, spinning in a slow circle as she scanned the dimly lit room. The doll had to be there. Dolls didn't just get up and walk away. That was crazy. This whole situation was crazy. She should never have taken this babysitting job, no matter how much it paid.
Salina dropped to her knees, checking under the bed. Nothing but dust and a forgotten sock. She moved to the wardrobe, pulling the heavy doors open with trembling hands. Just rows of old-fashioned dresses and the faint smell of mothballs.
"Damnit," she said, turning toward the bathroom door. “How in the hell could it disappear?”
But Mrs. Wright had been very specific: Baby-Boo was to remain in its cradle. "Never leave it alone," she'd said, her eyes oddly intense. "And whatever you do, don't let it out of your sight."
Salina had thought the old woman was just being eccentric. Now, with the doll missing and the house silent as a tomb, those instructions took on a more sinister meaning.
The bathroom door was ajar, revealing darkness beyond. Salina approached cautiously, one hand outstretched to push the door wider. Her fingers had barely touched the wood when she heard it—the soft patter of plastic feet against hardwood.
Behind her.
Salina whirled around, her combat boots squeaking against the floor. The bedroom door was still closed, but now she could hear the unmistakable sound of something small moving in the shadows by the dresser.
"This is not happening," she said, backing away from the sound. "This is not happening."
The antique lamp beside the bed began to dim, its warm light fading until the room was bathed in nothing but the cold blue glow of moonlight. In that spectral illumination, Salina saw a small shape detach itself from the darkness beneath the dresser.
Baby-Boo emerged slowly, inch by inch, its movements jerky and unnatural—like a marionette controlled by an unpracticed hand. The doll's big eyes perfectly aligned and focused directly on her. It's typically vacant expression had twisted into something horrific—a rictus grin that split its plastic face.
And in its pudgy plastic hand, it clutched a knife nearly as long as its arm.
"Holy sh—" Salina's curse cut off as Baby-Boo took a step forward, the knife gleaming in the moonlight. The blade looked ancient—tarnished silver with strange symbols etched along its length.
"Boo-boo-gah-gah," Baby-Boo said in a deep man's voice like a cartoon character. Its mouth moved mechanically, plastic lips barely syncing with the words. "Baby-Boo wants to play! Play with Baby-Boo!”
Salina backed away until her legs hit the edge of the bed. "Stay back," she warned, her voice shaking. "I mean it, whatever you are."
Baby-Boo tilted its head at an impossible angle, that terrible grin never wavering. "Mommy said play with Baby-Boo. Play with Baby-Boo!”
"Not with that knife in your hand," Salina said, frantically scanning the room for anything she could use as a weapon. Her eyes landed on a heavy crystal paperweight on the nightstand.
Baby-Boo's response was a high-pitched giggle that sent shivers down Salina's spine. "Play," it chirped, then lunged forward with impossible speed.
Salina dove sideways, her fingers closing around the paperweight as she rolled across the bed. Baby-Boo's knife slashed through the air where she had been standing, cutting through the duvet with terrifying ease.
The doll didn't hesitate. It scrambled onto the bed with unnatural agility, its plastic limbs bending in ways they were never designed to. Salina swung the paperweight in a wide arc, connecting solidly with Baby-Boo's head. The impact sent the doll flying into the wall with a crack of splitting plastic.
Salina didn't wait to see if she'd done any real damage. She bolted for the door, yanking it open and nearly falling into the hallway beyond. Behind her, she heard the rustle of movement as Baby-Boo recovered.
"Pretty girl can't escape," the doll called after her, its voice now darker, deeper—no longer pretending to be childlike. More like a disturbing evil man-child. "House locked up. Mommy wants pretty girl to play with Baby-Boo.”
The hallway stretched before Salina, lined with mirrors that reflected nothing but shadows. She ran, her combat boots thundering against the floor, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She had to find a way out. Had to escape this nightmare before—
Something grabbed her ankle.
Salina went down hard, barely getting her hands up in time to break her fall. The paperweight slipped from her grasp, skittering across the hardwood and disappearing into the darkness. She rolled onto her back just as Baby-Boo pounced, knife raised high.
"No!" Salina brought her arm up just in time, catching the doll's wrist inches from her face. Baby-Boo's strength was incredible, forcing the knife closer despite Salina's desperate resistance. Those terrible teeth snapped at her, plastic jaws opening wider than should be possible.
"Kiss Baby-Boo!" The psycho doll laughed. "Kiss Baby-Boo!”
"Get off me, pervert!" Salina twisted violently, managing to throw the doll to the side. She scrambled to her knees, but before she could stand, Baby-Boo was on her back, its plastic arms wrapping around her neck with crushing force.
The knife flashed before her eyes as the doll brought it around, aiming for her throat. Salina's fingers closed around the nearest object—a leather-bound copy of Pride and Prejudice—and hurled it at Baby-Boo's head. The doll fell off her and rolled away. Back on its feet, its crossed blue eyes fixed on her before it scuttled across the floor like a demented crab.
"Bad Baby-Boo!" Salina grabbed another book. "Bad Baby-Boo!"
Baby-Boo's cherubic face split into a razor-toothed grin. "Play!" it shrieked, brandishing a kitchen knife that looked comically large in its plastic hands.
"Hard pass." Salina backed away, her heart hammering against her ribs. The living room's antique furniture cast long shadows in the dim light, perfect hiding spots for a homicidal toy.
A giggle echoed from somewhere behind the Victorian fainting couch. Salina snatched a brass fireplace poker from its stand, gripping it like a baseball bat. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," she muttered, scanning the room. "Let's see how you like getting your stuffing knocked out."
The doll burst from its hiding spot, moving faster than anything its size had any right to move. Salina swung the poker, but Baby-Boo was already climbing up the wallpaper, its stubby fingers leaving tiny holes in the floral pattern.
"Down!" Salina jabbed at it with the poker. "Bad doll! Get down!"
Baby-Boo responded by turning its head 180 degrees and projectile vomiting a stream of green goo. Salina dove behind an armchair, gagging as the acidic stench filled the room.
"Gross!" she choked out. "Sick gross!”
The doll chittered, scampering across the ceiling like a plastic spider. Its diaper rustled with each movement, a sound that would have been funny if it wasn't so terrifying. Salina tracked its progress, keeping the poker between them.
"Play!" Baby-Boo demanded again, its voice a hellish mix of infant and demon. "Play with Baby-Boo!"
"Hell no." Salina grabbed a heavy brass lamp from an end table and hurled it upward. The doll dodged, but the impact cracked the plaster, showering them both with white dust.
Baby-Boo dropped to the floor, landing on its feet with a soft pat. It cocked its head, blue eyes swiveling independently. "Naughty," it pouted, then lifted its diaper and released a thunderous fart that rattled the windows.
Salina gagged again, eyes watering. "Oh my god, what is wrong with you?"
The doll just giggled and charged. Salina kicked a footstool into its path, but Baby-Boo vaulted over it with gymnastic grace, knife flashing in the lamplight.
Salina barely got the poker up in time. Metal rang against metal as she deflected the blade. The doll's strength was incredible—each blow sent shockwaves up her arms. She stumbled backward, knocking over a side table. A vase crashed to the floor, scattering ceramic shards across the oriental rug.
"Stay still!" Baby-Boo commanded, slashing at her legs. "Play!"
"Your idea of playtime needs serious revision!" Salina swung the poker like a golf club, catching the doll in its plastic chest. Baby-Boo flew across the room and slammed into a bookshelf, sending volumes cascading to the floor.
But the doll just bounced back up, giggling. "That tickled!"
"Oh, come on!" Salina grabbed one of the fallen chairs and held it between them like a lion tamer. "What does it take to stop you?"
Baby-Boo's only response was to scuttle forward on all fours, knife clenched between its teeth. It moved in jerky, unnatural motions, like a stop-motion nightmare come to life.
Salina threw the chair at it and ran. Her boots pounded across hardwood as she sprinted down the hallway, the doll's manic laughter echoing behind her. She burst through the first door she saw—a bedroom, thank god—and slammed it shut.
Her trembling hands found the lock just as something heavy thudded against the other side. The door shuddered in its frame as Baby-Boo threw itself against it again and again.
"WAAAAAAAHHH!" the doll shrieked. "Let Baby-Boo in!”
"Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin," Salina muttered, dragging a heavy dresser in front of the door. The wood groaned as she pushed, her boots sliding on the polished floor.
A tiny hand burst through the gap under the door, plastic fingers grasping at the air. Salina yelped and stomped on them. Baby-Boo screamed—an inhuman sound that set her teeth on edge—and withdrew.
Silence fell, broken only by Salina's ragged breathing. She pressed her ear to the door but heard nothing. The doll could be anywhere by now, waiting.
"Think, think, think." Salina ran her fingers through her sweat-dampened hair, leaving streaks of plaster dust. She needed weapons, escape routes, anything.
The bedroom was like something out of a Victorian museum, all dark wood and heavy fabrics. Moonlight filtered through lace curtains, casting web-like shadows on the walls. A four-poster bed dominated one wall while floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined another.
The window. Salina hurried over, but the ancient latch refused to budge. She grabbed a candlestick from the bedside table, ready to break the glass, then froze. She was on the second floor—the fall would probably kill her.
"Great." She tossed the candlestick aside. "Just great."
Something skittered in the walls. Salina's head snapped up, tracking the sound as it moved through the ceiling. Dust drifted down from above.
"That better be mice," she said. "Really big, knife-wielding mice."
A giggle answered her, muffled but unmistakable.
Salina backed away from the wall, scanning for weapons. Her gaze fell on the bookshelves, and she frowned. Among the leather-bound classics and dusty encyclopedias sat a collection of thin, cloth-bound journals.
She grabbed one at random, hoping for anything useful. Spidery handwritten words covered the yellowed pages with age that seemed to crawl.
"'March 15, 1847,'" she read aloud. "'Another failure today. The spell holds for mere hours before the vessel crumbles to dust. Perhaps a younger subject next time...'"
Salina's blood ran cold. She grabbed another journal, then another, skimming through pages of increasingly disturbing entries.
"'The child's spirit must be bound properly this time. The last one broke free and had to be destroyed...'"
"'The doll is perfect. Innocent in appearance, yet strong enough to contain the essence...'"
"'As long as it feeds, I remain. We are bound now, the three of us—the witch, the child, and the vessel...'"
The skittering in the walls grew louder. Salina clutched the journals, horror dawning as she pieced them together. The woman who'd hired her wasn't just some eccentric—she was a witch. A centuries-old witch who used Baby-Boo to...to...
A panel in the ceiling burst open, showering her with splinters. Baby-Boo dropped into the room, its cherubic face twisted into a demonic grin.
"Found you!" it sang, brandishing its knife. "Time to play!"
Salina ran to the door and shoved the dresser away as quickly as she could. The doll, shrieking like a maniac, charged.
Salina barely made it through the door before closing it. She needs to find a hiding spot quickly before the small monster can find her again.
Salina's heart hammered against her ribs as Baby-Boo's high-pitched giggle echoed through the darkened hallway. The sound bounced off the wallpaper-covered walls, making it impossible to pinpoint the doll's location.
"Come out, come out!" Baby-Boo shouted. "Baby-Boo wants to play!”
"Yeah, right," Salina muttered, pressing herself against the wall. Her black clothes helped her blend into the shadows, but she doubted it would fool the possessed doll for long.
A floorboard creaked behind her.
Salina whirled around just as Baby-Boo burst from the shadows, his pudgy plastic arms wielding a hammer that looked comically large in his tiny hands. His crossed blue eyes had transformed into pinpricks of red light, and his usually dopey smile had twisted into a row of razor-sharp teeth.
"Play time!" the doll shrieked.
Salina dove to the side as the hammer whooshed past her head, splintering the wall where she'd been standing. She scrambled to her feet and sprinted down the hallway, her combat boots thundering against the hardwood floor.
"Pretty girl can't run forever!" Baby-Boo cackled. "Playtime all night!”
"Shut up, you demented Cabbage Patch reject from hell!" Salina shot back, skidding around a corner. She grabbed a decorative vase from a nearby table and hurled it behind her.
An indignant squeal followed the sound of shattering porcelain. "Naughty!”
Salina didn't waste time responding. She ducked into what looked like a study, slamming the door behind her and shoving a heavy chair under the handle. Her hands trembled as she fumbled through her messenger bag, pulling out the spell components she always carried.
"Protection circle, protection circle," she muttered, arranging crystals in a hasty circle. "Please work, please work..."
She'd barely completed the circle when something wet splashed against the back of her neck. Salina reached up, her fingers coming away damp. The acrid smell hit her nose a second later.
"Oh, gross!" She gagged. "Did you just pee on me?"
Baby-Boo's giggle came from somewhere above. Salina looked up to find the doll crawling across the ceiling like a demented spider, his red eyes fixed on her. A stream of yellowish liquid dripped from his plastic diaper.
"Baby made a whoopsie!" he cackled.
"That's it." Salina grabbed a handful of dried herbs from her bag. "Coelestis potestates, meam vocationem, attendite-”
Baby-Boo dropped from the ceiling, landing on her shoulders. His plastic hands yanked at her hair as she stumbled backward, crashing into a bookshelf. Books rained down around them as Salina grabbed the doll and hurled him across the room.
He hit the wall with a hollow thunk but immediately bounced back to his feet, still grinning. "Naughty! Naughty! Magic can't hurt Baby-Boo!”
"Worth a shot," Salina groaned, rubbing her head where he'd pulled her hair. She scrambled behind the heavy oak desk, putting some distance between herself and the possessed toy.
Baby-Boo skittered toward her on all fours, moving with an unnatural, jerky motion that made her stomach turn. The hammer appeared in his hand again as if by magic.
"Hold still," he cooed. "Hold still!”
Salina grabbed the nearest object—a brass letter opener—and brandished it like a sword. "Back off, Chucky!"
"It's Baby-Boo!" The doll's face contorted with rage. He lunged at her, swinging the hammer wildly.
Salina parried the blow with the letter opener, the impact sending shocks up her arm. She kicked out, catching the doll in his pudgy stomach and sending him flying into a stack of leather-bound books.
“WAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!”
While Baby-Boo was temporarily stunned, Salina dove for the fallen volumes. There had to be something useful in this witch's library. Her fingers brushed against a worn journal, its pages yellow with age.
"Found you!"
Salina yanked a heavy bookend from the desk and swung it just as Baby-Boo leaped at her face. The impact sent the doll crashing into an antique globe stand. The globe toppled over, pinning Baby-Boo beneath its considerable weight.
"No fair!" the doll shrieked, his stubby legs kicking uselessly. "That's cheating!"
"Sue me," Salina panted, already flipping through the journal's brittle pages. Her eyes widened as she scanned the elegant handwriting.
October 15, 1823
Today I made the ultimate sacrifice for immortality. My sweet Charlotte's blood has granted me eternal life, but the price weighs heavy on my soul. The doll serves as both reminder and instrument—a vessel through which I may continue the sacrifices required to maintain my immortality.
"Oh god." Salina's stomach lurched as the truth hit her. The witch hadn't lost her child—she'd murdered her. And now she was using this twisted doll to continue her killing spree.
A scraping sound drew her attention back to the globe. Baby-Boo had wiggled one arm free and was slowly pushing the heavy sphere off his plastic body.
"Pretty girl read mommy's book?" he asked, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "Pretty girl naughty." His demonic eyes fixed on Salina with predatory intensity. "Baby-Boo will punish pretty girl.”
With a last heave, Baby-Boo threw off the globe. It crashed into the desk, sending papers flying everywhere. The doll rose to his feet, his joints creaking ominously.
He retrieved his hammer, tapping it against his palm. "Baby-Boo smash pretty girl's head!”
Salina backed away, her mind racing. The journal had confirmed her worst fears—this wasn't just a possessed doll; it was an enchanted toy turned into a weapon. And its "mother" wasn't some grieving parent, but a monster who'd sacrificed her own child for immortality.
Baby-Boo advanced on her, his plastic feet making soft pattering sounds against the hardwood floor. His twisted grin stretched impossibly wide, revealing row after row of needle-sharp teeth.
"Pretty girl has last words?" he asked, raising the hammer.
Salina's back hit the wall. She glanced around desperately, searching for anything she could use as a weapon. Her eyes landed on the fireplace poker, leaning against the hearth.
A plan—desperate and probably stupid—formed in her mind.
"Yeah," she said, gathering her courage. "I've got a few choice words for you and your psycho mom."
Baby-Boo's eyes flashed crimson. "Don't say mean things to mommy!”
He lunged at her with supernatural speed, hammer raised high. But this time, Salina was ready.
She dove to the side, rolling toward the fireplace. Her hand closed around the poker just as Baby-Boo crashed into the wall where she'd been standing. The doll whirled around, face contorted with rage.
"Naughty pretty girl," he snarled.
Salina rose to her feet, brandishing the poker like a sword. "Bring it on, you dollar store demon."
Baby-Boo's shriek of rage echoed through the study as he charged at her once more. This time, Salina stood her ground, ready to face whatever came next.
Salina sprinted into the living room, her lungs burning as Baby-Boo's maniacal laughter echoed behind her. The doll burst through the doorway, his plastic feet pattering against the hardwood floor.
"Pretty girl can't escape!" Baby-Boo cackled, brandishing his tiny hammer. "Time for forever sleep!"
Salina spun around, her combat boots finding purchase on the antique rug. As Baby-Boo leaped toward her face, she delivered a powerful kick that sent the doll flying straight into the fireplace. The flames caught his synthetic hair instantly.
"Hot! HOT!" Baby-Boo shrieked, thrashing wildly as the fire spread across his plastic body. He scrambled out of the fireplace, trailing flames that ignited the curtains and furniture. "BABY-BOO BURN!"
The living room transformed into an inferno within seconds. Smoke filled the air as Salina grabbed her backpack, scanning desperately for an escape route. The windows were too high, and flames already blocked the main doorway.
Through the chaos, she heard the pounding of burning plastic feet. Baby-Boo charged at her, now a screaming fireball with glowing red eyes.
"DIE WITH BABY-BOO!"
Salina sidestepped and kicked the flaming doll into the wall with all her strength. The impact left a crater in the plaster, and Baby-Boo slumped to the floor, still burning but dazed.
"Play this," Salina growled. She brought her boot down hard on the doll's head, crushing it like a rotten melon. The red light in his eyes flickered and died.
A horrified gasp cut through the roar of the flames. Mrs. Wright stood in the doorway, her face pale with shock as she took in the burning room and the remains of her precious doll.
"What have you done?" she whispered.
"I know what you did," Salina shot back, coughing from the smoke. "All those missing people. Your own real baby. How many lives did you sacrifice to stay young forever?"
"You don't understand," Mrs. Wright pleaded, stepping into the burning room. "I had no choice. The magic required-"
Her words cut off in a strangled gasp. The elegant woman clutched her throat as deep wrinkles suddenly carved themselves into her face. Her blonde hair turned white and brittle, falling out in clumps.
"No," Mrs. Wright croaked, her voice ancient and cracking. "No, please!"
Salina watched in horror as the witch's body deteriorated before her eyes. Skin withered and shrank against bone, muscles atrophied, and joints twisted with arthritis. Mrs. Wright's agonized screams grew weaker as centuries of delayed aging caught up with her in mere seconds. “NOOOOOOOOOOOO! WHAT A WORLD! WHAT A WORLD!”
The once beautiful woman collapsed to her knees, her body continuing to deteriorate until only a skeleton remained. Even that crumbled to dust, leaving nothing but empty clothes and jewelry on the burning floor.
"Holy shit," Salina whispered, stumbling backward. The heat was becoming unbearable, and the smoke made it hard to breathe. She spotted a side door partially hidden behind a burning curtain. She grabbed her backpack and ran for it.
The old house groaned and cracked as Salina burst out into the cool night air. Behind her, windows shattered from the heat as flames consumed the mansion. She kept running until she reached a safe distance, then turned to watch the inferno.
Fire trucks wailed in the distance, their sirens growing closer. Salina hugged herself, trying to stop shaking as she watched the witch's house collapse in on itself. The horror was over, at least for now. But she knew there would be others - there were always others. And when they appeared, she would be ready.
Next time, she would be better prepared. Next time, she would know what to look for. But for now, she just watched the flames dance against the night sky, knowing that at least one dark legacy had been permanently laid to rest.
The late afternoon sun filtered through the dusty windows of Burger Queen, casting long shadows across the worn vinyl booths. Salina slumped against the cracked leather seat, her black-painted fingernails drumming an erratic pattern on the formica tabletop. The events last night felt like a fever dream—or would have if the news about the house mysteriously burning down hadn't been announced.
"So let me get this totally straight," Jessica said, leaning forward over her untouched vanilla milkshake. "You're telling us that not only was the doll alive, but it tried to sacrifice you to keep some centuries-old witch from turning into dust?"
"Pretty much." Salina grabbed a fry from Kevin's plate, ignoring his half-hearted protest. "Though I think the proper term is 'animated by dark forces' rather than 'alive.' Right, nerd boy?"
Kevin pushed his glasses up his nose, a familiar gleam of excitement in his dark eyes. "Actually, there are several documented cases of possessed dolls throughout history. The most famous being Robert the Doll in Key West, Florida, which—"
"Babe," Jessica cut him off, "maybe save the haunted doll lecture for when our friend isn't traumatized?”
"Right. Sorry." He cleared his throat, shooting an apologetic look at Salina. "How are you feeling?”
Salina shrugged as she chewed. "Better. After so many weird encounters, I got the hang of it. We all fought monsters before.”
"Well, technically..." Jessica gestured vaguely. "You did fight a doll.”
"Yeah, a psychotic plastic baby with anger issues and surprisingly good knife skills." Salina snorted, but the sound held little humor. "God, do you know how ridiculous this all sounds? If I hadn't lived it..."
The waitress appeared at their table, coffee pot in hand. Salina fell silent as the woman topped off their mugs, waiting until she was safely out of earshot before continuing.
"The worst part? I never even got paid." She stirred three sugar packets into her coffee, watching the crystals dissolve. "Like, if you're going to try to sacrifice me to maintain your immortality, at least comp me for my time, you know?"
Kevin choked on his soda, and Jessica reached over to pat his back. Once he could breathe again, he asked, "But how did you know fire would work? That was some quick thinking."
Salina shrugged, but there was a slight tremor in her hand as she lifted her coffee cup. "I didn't. I just... remembered all those old movies we used to watch. The evil thing is always weak to fire, right? Plus, the witch kept Baby-Boo in a cradle for a good reason.”
"Speaking of the witch," Jessica leaned closer, lowering her voice, "what happened after... you know?"
"After she turned into human dust?" Salina's lips twisted. "Nothing. By the time the fire department showed up, there was nothing left but ash and some really confused first responders. The official story is that Mrs. Wright left town suddenly, and her house caught fire due to faulty wiring."
"And people actually believe that?" Kevin's eyebrows shot up.
"People believe what they want to believe." Salina traced a finger through the condensation on her water glass. "It's easier than accepting that there might be something darker out there. Something that doesn't fit into their neat, orderly world."
Jessica fidgeted with her straw wrapper, tearing it into tiny pieces. "I wonder if there are more terrible witches here. First the ghost, and now a crazy immortal with a killer baby doll? What’s next?”
Salina caught the slight tremor in her friend's voice, and noticed the way Jessica's eyes darted to the deepening shadows outside the diner's windows. For a moment, she considered lying, offering some comforting platitude about how Baby-Boo had been a one-off, how the rest of their town was perfectly normal.
But she'd had enough of lies.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "I think there are lots of secrets in Moon Valley. Things that hide in plain sight, waiting for the right moment to show their true nature."
Kevin reached across the table, squeezing her hand. "At least you're not alone in knowing about them anymore."
Salina squeezed back, grateful for the warmth of his fingers against hers. "No, I'm not. Though I've definitely learned my lesson about taking sketchy job offers. Next time Grams bugs me about getting a part-time job, I'm applying to the mall like a normal teenager."
"Totally Hot Topic," Jessica laughed.
They spent the next hour trading increasingly ridiculous suggestions for Salina's next job ("Professional monster hunter?" "Ghost whisperer?" "Doll exorcist?"), their laughter echoing through the nearly empty diner. But underneath the jokes and banter, something had shifted. A door had been opened that couldn't be closed.
As the sun sank below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of blood and fire, Salina watched her friends gather their things. Jessica checked her phone and grimaced at a string of texts from her cheer squad. Kevin, carefully wrapped his half-eaten burger to take home. Both of them were so normal, so wonderfully ordinary.
But they knew now. They knew what lurked in the shadows of their quiet town. And somehow, that made it both better and worse.
"Same time next week?" Kevin asked as they stepped out into the cooling evening air.
"Yeah," Salina said, shoving her hands into the pockets of her black hoodie. "But maybe somewhere else? I think I've had enough of this place for a while."
Jessica looped her arm through Salina's. "We could do my house? Dad's working nights this week, and I've got that new horror movie collection..."
"Seriously?" Salina raised an eyebrow. "After everything that just happened, you want to watch horror movies?"
"What better time?" Jessica grinned, some of her old spark returning. "Now we know what not to do when faced with a murderous supernatural entity."
"Rule number one," Kevin intoned solemnly, "don't take babysitting jobs from creepy ladies with suspiciously high-paying gigs."
"Rule number two," Jessica added, "always check if your charge is actually human before accepting."
"Rule number three," Salina finished, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips, "when in doubt, set it on fire."
They parted ways at the corner, Jessica heading toward the suburbs, Kevin toward downtown, and Salina toward the old Victorian house she shared with her grandmother. As she walked, the streetlights flickered to life one by one, pushing back the encroaching darkness.
But Salina knew better now. The darkness was always there, waiting. Baby-Boo might be gone, reduced to melted plastic and bitter memories, but there would be others. Other secrets, other horrors, other things that went bump in the night.
At least now she wasn't facing them alone.
Salina pulled her hoodie tighter around her shoulders and picked up her pace. Her grandmother would be waiting with questions about her job search, unaware that her granddaughter had already found—and lost—the strangest job in Moon Valley's history.
Maybe she'd apply to that opening at the bookstore tomorrow. After all, what was the worst that could happen? Books don't come to life and try to kill you.
Usually.
A laugh bubbled up in her throat, slightly hysterical but genuine. God, her life had gotten weird. But as she walked home through the gathering dusk, Salina found she didn't mind as much as she probably should.
After all, normal was overrated.
