\nElise\u2019s life was predictable \u2014 until the dolls started appearing. First on her doorstep, then inside her locked home. Every time she threw one away, it came back. For weeks, she questioned her sanity, until the night she caught a shadowy gure in her yard clutching that same doll. I never believed in ghosts until one showed up at my doorstep.\n
Not the transparent, rattling-chains kind of ghost, but something far more personal \u2014 a reminder that no matter how many lives I saved, I couldn\u2019t outrun the ones I lost.\n
My name is Elise. At 37, I was exactly where I wanted to be: a top pediatric surgeon at a prestigious hospital, with a corner ofce and a reputation for steady hands even in the worst emergencies.\n
\n
My life followed a predictable rhythm comprising surgery, paperwork, going home to my quiet townhouse, sleep, repeat. No husband, no kids, no pets. Just me and the pager that never seemed to stop beeping.Most days started with me racing down corridors, pulling on scrubs, and focusing my mind on the tiny body I was about to cut open.\n
People called me cold sometimes. Detached. But when you\u2019re trying to repair a heart the size of a small plum, detachment isn\u2019t just useful; it\u2019s necessary.\n
That particular Tuesday morning started differently. I woke up before my alarm, feeling strangely rested. I stretched, bones cracking pleasantly, and went to open my window. That\u2019s when I saw it.\n
A doll, sitting right by my window. It was old-fashioned, with a porcelain face and a faded blue dress. Its glass eyes caught the light, giving it an unsettling, almost alive quality. I froze. \u201cWhat the hell?\u201d I lifted the doll cautiously. Up close, I could see the cracks in its porcelain face and the worn fabric of its dress
\nIt looked loved. Well-used. But it wasn\u2019t mine. I lived alone and I didn\u2019t have children. \u201cThis is ridiculous,\u201d I muttered.\n
\n
I tossed it in the kitchen trash, buried it under coffee grounds and yesterday\u2019s takeout containers, and went to work. By noon, I\u2019d forgotten all about it.\n
A week passed. Seven surgeries, two losses, one miracle save.
\nThe usual.
\nI came home late Thursday night, exhausted after a 14-hour shift. My feet dragged as I walked up the path to my front door. And there it was again.\n
The doll. Sitting on my doorstep, its glass eyes glinting in the porch light. My stomach dropped. \u201cThat\u2019s impossible,\u201d I whispered, but picked it up anyway. It was the same doll. She had the same cracked face and the same worn dress. The doll I\u2019d thrown away a week ago.\n
\n
It should\u2019ve been buried in a landll by now. I glanced around, expecting some giggling teenagers to appear from behind a bush or something and brag about how they\u2019d pranked me, but the street was empty. I walked straight to the bin and dumped the doll inside it. A strange sound echoed through the night. I whirled around.\n
The neighbor\u2019s dog let out a weird howl. \u201cStupid dog,\u201d I muttered, still anxiously scanning the darkness as I edged toward my door. I let myself in and quickly locked myself in. I tried to tell myself that the doll\u2019s reappearance was just some kind of prank, but I couldn\u2019t shake the feeling that something more ominous was going on.
\nAnother week passed. I found myself glancing over my shoulder more often, and checking dark corners before entering rooms. The lack of explanation gnawed at me. I was a woman of science, of logic. Dolls didn\u2019t just appear and disappear. Then came the morning I woke up to nd it placed neatly beside my bed.\n
I screamed.\n But the doll returned a few nights later. The pattern continued for two months. The doll would appear on my porch, in my kitchen, or by my bedroom window. I\u2019d throw it out, and it would reappear a few days later. I changed the locks and left my lights on all night. None of it mattered. The doll always returned.\n Sleep became a luxury I couldn\u2019t afford. Dark circles formed under my eyes. My colleagues noticed. The breaking point came on a cold November night.\n I jerked awake from a nightmare of a child\u2019s face, pale and lifeless on an operating table. In the dream, I kept trying to save her, but my hands wouldn\u2019t move. I could only watch as life slipped away. My heart was still racing when I heard a noise outside my window. A scraping sound, like footsteps on gravel. I rushed outside.\n My ashlight beam cut through the darkness. And there, at the edge of my yard, stood a gure. A man, tall and lean, silhouetted against the moonlight. He was holding the doll. He took a step forward, into the glow of my porch light. He was in his forties, wearing a dark jacket and a black mask that covered the lower half of his face. But his eyes \u2014 his eyes were hollow with grief. \u201cYou don\u2019t remember me,\u201d he said, his voice rough. \u201cBut I remember you.\u201d\n He pulled off the mask.His face was gaunt, lined with sorrow. Something about his features tugged at my memory. \u201cMy daughter,\u201d he said softly. \u201cShe died on your table.\u201d The words hit me like a physical blow. Memories rushed back of a little girl rushed into the ER after a car accident. She had multiple internal injuries. We\u2019d operated for hours, trying to stop the bleeding.But it wasn\u2019t enough. She atlined, and I brought her back. And then I brought her back again, but the third time\u2026 she was so small, and her injuries were just too severe. \u201cI remember,\u201d I whispered. \u201cI remember her.\u201d\n I swallowed hard, tears stinging my eyes. \u201cYou think I don\u2019t?\u201d The words came out ragged. \u201cI remember every child I lose. I dream of their faces. I woke up tonight because I dreamed of your daughter again.\u201d\n For the first time, I saw his pain mirrored in my own. We were two sides of the same coin \u2014 both trapped in a moment we couldn\u2019t change. \u201cI fought so hard to keep her here,\u201d I said, my tears falling freely. He sobbed then, shoulders shaking. \u201cCome inside,\u201d I said softly. \u201cPlease.\u201d His name was Noah. We sat across from each other at my kitchen table, mugs of tea growing cold between us. The doll rested on the table, its glass eyes reecting the overhead light.\n We tried everything,\u201d I told him gently. \u201cSophie was just too badly injured. Sometimes\u2026 sometimes medicine isn\u2019t enough.\u201d I hesitated, then added, \u201cBut the guilt never fades. I carry them all with me. And I always will.\u201d Talking with you tonight\u2026 it helped a lot.\u201d I blinked, surprised. And then, for the first time in months, I smiled. \u201cYes.\u201d\n Two years later, I stood in a quiet hospital room, cradling a newborn in my arms. Noah stood beside me, his hand resting on my back. Our daughter, Lily, cooed softly, her tiny ngers wrapped around my thumb. I gently tucked a familiar, well-worn doll into her bassinet. The same doll that once haunted me. The same doll that once symbolized loss.\n Now, it represented something else: Healing. Love. A second chance. \u201cSophie would have loved her,\u201d Noah whispered, his voice thick with emotion. I nodded, leaning into him, and smiled as I watched our daughter drift off to sleep, the old doll keeping a silent vigil beside her.\u00a0 The world was still full of pain and loss \u2014 I knew that better than most. But now I understood something else too. Even in the darkest moments, light nds a way to break through.\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Elise\u2019s life was predictable \u2014 until the dolls started appearing. First on her doorstep, then inside her locked home. Every time she threw one away, it came back. For weeks, she questioned her sanity, until the night she caught a shadowy gure in her yard clutching that same doll. I never believed in ghosts until\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":119920,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_seopress_robots_primary_cat":"none","_seopress_titles_title":"","_seopress_titles_desc":"","_seopress_robots_index":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[642],"tags":[818],"class_list":{"0":"post-119902","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-moral-story","8":"tag-moral-touching-stories"},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/03\/similar-doll.jpg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/119902","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=119902"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/119902\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":119926,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/119902\/revisions\/119926"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/119920"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=119902"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=119902"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=119902"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nI couldn\u2019t help it. The sound tore from my throat before I could stop it. Because this time, the doll was inside my house. Inside my locked house. \u201cThis isn\u2019t happening,\u201d I told myself, voice shaking. \u201cYou\u2019re just tired.
\nHallucinating from stress.\u201d
\nBut the doll was solid in my hands when I picked it up. I threw it in my car and drove to work, dumping it in a hospital trash can on my way in.\n
\n\u201cYou okay, Elise?\u201d Dr. Chen asked as we scrubbed in one day.
\n\u201cFine,\u201d I lied. \u201cJust tired.\u201d
\nHow could I explain that I was being haunted by a child\u2019s toy?\n
\n
\nSomeone was out there. I grabbed my phone and a heavy ashlight from my nightstand. Fear tightened my chest, but a strange calm washed over me too. Whatever was happening, I was about to get answers.\n
\n
\n\u201cWHO ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU WANT?\u201d My voice came out stronger than I felt, echoing in the quiet street. The man inched but didn\u2019t run.\n
\nThe man stepped closer, the doll clutched in his trembling hands. \u201cThis was hers,\u201d he said. \u201cSophie loved this stupid thing. Took it everywhere.\u201d His voice broke. \u201cI just\u2026 I wanted you to feel what I feel. I wanted you to hurt like I do.\u201d\n
\nWithout thinking, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him. He didn\u2019t resist. We stood there, two strangers bound by the same unbearable loss.\n
\n
\nTears slipped down Noah\u2019s face. He nodded. \u201cI wanted to hate you,\u201d he confessed. \u201cFor months after she died, I convinced myself you could have saved her. That you didn\u2019t try hard enough.\u201d He looked down at his hands. \u201cBut maybe\u2026 maybe I just needed someone to remember her with me.\u201d As dawn broke, painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges, Noah nally asked, \u201cWould you\u2026 have coffee with me tomorrow?\n
\n