Helen is horrifying. There’s something not quite right about her.
 
This is a deeply unsettling antique composition doll, the kind you might find tucked away in a rotting attic corner or seated silently in a long-abandoned nursery. Her once-soft features are now fractured with fine, spidery cracks across her face, as if time—and something else—has worn her down. Her glass eyes, designed to open and close with movement, still try to perform—but they stick. One may stay half-lidded, the other wide and staring, caught mid-blink in an expression far too inhuman for comfort.
 
Her hair is a wild, brittle mess—matted, frizzy, reaching out in all directions like something clawing at the air. It’s impossible to tame, as if it remembers every child’s hand that ever pulled or played with it. She wears her original dress, dulled by decades, and tiny, unraveling knitted shoes that somehow make her seem even more lost in time.
 
But it’s the eyes that stay with you—glass orbs that glint in the dark, as if lit from behind. There’s something in them. A question? A warning? Or maybe… a memory? Find out for yourself...
 
Measures about 16" long.