❝𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞 𝕛𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕒𝕝❞creepypasta investigation

the antique store⁽ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ⁾

    ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

I dreamed of an antique store, dark and forgotten, its air heavy with the scent of dust and decay. Cobwebs hung like lace in the corners, swaying gently in an unseen breeze. The space felt endless and hollow, as if time itself had abandoned it.

I climbed a narrow staircase, its creaking wood groaning beneath my hesitant steps. The upstairs was cramped, filled with the clutter of lives long gone—faded photographs, tarnished trinkets, and things better left untouched. In the middle of it all stood a table, and on it, a box.

It was unassuming, but it called to me. I lifted the lid, and there they were—dolls, small and tattered, their eyes glassy and far too knowing. I sifted through them, my hands moving faster, almost frantically, as I pushed them aside. Each one felt wrong, their hollow faces staring up at me.

Then I found him.

A doll of Slenderman, his smooth, faceless head and unnaturally long limbs captured in eerie, meticulous detail. My breath caught, and for reasons I couldn't understand, I picked him up. He felt cold in my hands, heavier than I expected. Without thinking, I hugged him close.

I woke up with my heart racing, the memory of his cold, fragile form still pressed against me. Even now, I can't shake the feeling that he was never just a doll.

    ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───