One breath, two breaths, three breaths.

Live, her creator beckons. Live as someone showers you their sincerest love. Live and be loved, dear child. But, like all fairytales, a twist must come, and for that you mustn’t love but be loved. It makes no sense, I know dear child, but it also won’t make sense if a doll loves.

A few years pass quickly, a decade quicker, and a century in just a blink of the eye. The forsaken doll remains although its owner is already long past gone.

It lies in the corner of the attic, sitting in a little chair that matches her. Her heart is cold and not beating, but so do other dolls’ heart. However, one thing sets her apart from the rest. And that is the ability to breath once the clock strikes twelve midnight.

She lives and is free to do whatever she wants until the clock turns six in the morning. Be it adventuring out in the wonders of the old abandoned house she occupies in, or just inside the confines of the attic. She doesn’t know her purpose or when this strange phenomenon ever started, all she remembers is a lady smiling bitterly at her from a distant memory.

Ah, my dear child, I’m sorry for I have brought you here. What have I done? The lady with the gray hair in a slightly loose braid stares at her dismally. If only, if only, if only… The lady chants until her last breath.