Young Eztli is determined to get in touch with whatever is lurking beyond this world. What she doesn't know is that this dark path will lead her into wild dreams. Her friends are on their way to fun and spooky adventures, and they'll see how far the...
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Mr. Ramirez led the group down the winding path that led to his quaint house on the outskirts of town. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers, and the distant chirping of birds added a serene backdrop to their journey. The group followed Mr. Ramirez in silence, their footsteps echoing softly against the cobblestone path. "Follow me, please," he said in a voice heavy with concern. "I truly appreciate you coming to help me. I didn't know what else to do."
Leading the group to his weather-worn house, Mr. Ramirez hesitated at the door. "I'm really sorry about the mess," he muttered apologetically. But before he could utter another word. "But first, allow me to offer you something to drink," he offered, eager to extend his hospitality despite the disarray around them.
Seated in the dimly lit living room, Zacil turned to Mr. Ramirez with a somber expression. "Do you know what happened to your daughter? How did she get herself into that state you told us about?" she inquired, her voice barely above a whisper.
Mr. Ramirez's gaze drifted towards a framed photograph on the mantelpiece, a faint flicker of sorrow passing through his eyes. "My daughter Mireya was a collector of dolls," he began, his voice tinged with melancholy. "She would always bring back dolls as souvenirs from our travels."
He paused, as if struggling to find the right words to continue. "She had amassed quite a collection, but it was one fateful day when she returned with a doll unlike any other," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "She had acquired it from a small house on an island in the middle of the lake, known as the Isla de las Muñecas".
Mr. Ramirez recounted the eerie tale of the man who lived on the island, the tragic story of a young girl who had perished among the lilies in the water, and how the man had used the dolls to appease her restless spirit. "My daughter took one of those dolls," he confessed, his eyes clouded with regret. "And when I realized what she had done, I told her to get rid of it. But she refused, vehemently stating that she would never part with any of her dolls." "She got very angry and told me that she would never throw away any of her dolls."
Zacil listened intently, her expression unreadable as Mr Ramirez continued. "I really don't understand why my daughter was so obsessed with such horrible things."
At that moment, the rest of the group — Rono, Konane, Peta, and Zacil exchanged glances at Eztli as they listened intently to Mr. Ramirez's tale. Patli, who had been silent until now, looked around in confusion, wondering why they were all staring at Eztli.
Eztli, spoke up in bewilderment. "Why are you all looking at me?" she asked, her eyes wide with confusion.
Zacil's gaze softened as she turned towards Mr Ramirez. "When did you start noticing changes in her?" she questioned Mr. Ramirez, her voice gentle yet probing.
"Over the following three weeks," Mr. Ramirez replied slowly, his words laden with sorrow. "Little by little, I noticed that her mood was changing. She barely spoke."
Her laughter faded, replaced by a somber expression that seemed to cloak her vibrant spirit. Mr. Ramirez couldn't quite pinpoint when the change began, but he felt it in the air, a heaviness that settled upon their home like a shroud.
Night after night, I would find her wandering the dimly lit hallways, a porcelain doll clutched tightly in her arms. The doll, with its wide-eyed gaze and painted smile, felt like an ominous presence in the shadows of the nigh
I gazed at my daughter's sleepwalking form, a chill crept down my spine. It was as if Mireya had become a mere vessel, a hollow shell inhabited by something sinister and unknown. Unable to bear the sight any longer, I made a drastic decision. With a heavy heart, I gathered all of Mireya's dolls, the eerie companions of her nighttime rituals, and locked them away in a chest, hoping to break whatever hold they had over her.
"Zacil, Eztli, you're going to have to come with me for this," Mr. Ramirez declared, his voice a mixture of fear and resolve. The trio stood before Mireya's room, the door a barrier between reality and the unknown. With a solemn nod, Eztli stepped forward, her hand resting on the door handle.
"Open it quietly, Eztli. We must tread carefully," Zacil whispered, his heart pounding in his chest.As the door creaked open, a stale breath of air greeted them, carrying a scent of decay and mystery. Eztli peered into the dimly lit room, her gaze sweeping over the empty bed and scattered toys but no dolls insight. A sense of dread hung in the air, suffocating the room in its icy grip.
" Do you see anything, Eztli?" Zacil asked, her voice barely above a whisper.Eztli's eyes widened imperceptibly, a flicker of understanding passing through them. She turned to Mr. Ramirez, her expression a mask of grim determination.
A/N
Isla de las Muñecas / Island of the dolls
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