Marigold was more than a doll. Her porcelain skin burned by a cursed spirit board. Bound to the inanimate form by a cruel ouija board ritual, Marigold's spirit seeped into the doll, her once vibrant life force now a haunting echo.
A whisper of Marigold's name could stir the doll, her eerie silence broken by a chilling giggle, a chilling reminder of the innocent life stolen and the darkness that now resided within the porcelain shell.