Dollmaker's Heir

When Corinne inherits her estranged grandmother’s crumbling Victorian house, she also inherits something else: a doll. Unblinking. Unmoving. Dressed in lace that matches the casket lining. And wearing her face.

Inside the walls of the house, silence doesn’t mean peace—it means listening. The attic is sealed in blood-red wax. The family ledger doesn’t record births, but bindings. And every room remembers something Corinne has tried to forget.

Her grandmother was the last Dollmaker. Corinne is next in line.

But the dolls aren’t just heirlooms. They are vessels. Each one holds a soul, a sorrow, a name that was never allowed to fade. And one—just one—is still unfinished. It wears her clothes. Knows her memories. And smiles when she isn’t looking.

As Corinne unravels the truth stitched into generations of women before her, she must confront the horror of what it means to be remembered instead of born. The thread is already in her. And once the last stitch is made… there’s no coming back.

A gothic horror that lingers like dust in your lungs.