The Porcelain Thing

Inspired by a range of sources, including documented events, reported encounters, personal anecdotes, and folklore. Certain names, locations, and identifying details have been adjusted for privacy and narrative continuity.

Heya. This happened back in the summer of 1996. I was fifteen, living in Ashford. Small town, nothing much to do. My friend Sarah had moved away the month before, so I was kind of on my own that summer. Just me and a lot of free time. There was this house on Maple Street. Been abandoned since I was little. The Criterion place, people called it. Old Victorian, probably beautiful once, but by '96 it was just rotting. Paint peeling, porch sagging, that kind of thing. Everyone said it was haunted, but that's what people always say about old houses. I'd walked past it a hundred times but never went in. That day I was bored out of my mind, and I just thought, why not. I wasn't scared. I mean, I'd heard the stories, but I didn't believe them.

The front door was already open. Just hanging there on one hinge. I remember standing on the porch for a minute, listening. Complete silence. Not even birds. The whole street felt empty. Inside it was dark. Really dark. No windows left intact, all boarded up from the outside. I had a flashlight with me, one of those big yellow ones. I clicked it on and the beam just cut through this thick dusty air. Everything was covered in dust and old newspapers. Wallpaper hanging in strips. I went through the front hall into what must have been the living room. There was an old fireplace, a broken mirror on the wall. I was looking around, just exploring, when I heard it. This pattering sound. Like little footsteps. Fast ones, if that makes sense. Running.

I turned and swept the flashlight across the room. Nothing there. But the sound kept going. Tap tap tap tap, moving from one side of the room to the other. Behind the walls, maybe. I told myself it was rats. Had to be rats. Then I saw it. Just for a second, crossing the doorway to the next room. It was small. Maybe two feet tall, moving on all fours but wrong somehow. The proportions were off. Its skin was white. Not pale, white. Like china or porcelain. Smooth and gleaming. I stood there frozen with the flashlight shaking in my hand. Told myself I didn't see what I just saw. But then it came back. Peeked around the doorframe at me. And I got a good look at it.

[ Story continues in the full game... ]

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