"Zoroark, are you saying the audience is really curious about the doll I slipped into Dead Silence back then?" Edward looked at Zoroark with surprise.
He truly hadn't expected that even before Hachiko: A Growlithe's Tale had finished screening, his fans were already urging him to film another horror movie and not just urging, but directly requesting it.
They wanted him to reveal the backstory of that doll. And which doll was that? Naturally, it was the famous Annabelle. Back then, Edward had indeed planted a hint, she was the only doll Mary Shaw didn't control, deliberately implying Annabelle's uniqueness.
But whenever Edward thought about Annabelle's story, his expression always grew a little strange. The Annabelle films, as spinoffs, had three entries, which was already decent. But if he were to film it starting from the origin… then he would need to begin from the second movie's storyline.
"Yes, boss. Everyone is very curious about the doll named Annabelle."
Zoroark spoke seriously. Hearing this, Edward let out a sigh. Since they wanted it, fine—he could film it. Annabelle had left a strong impression on him anyway. Though honestly, in Edward's eyes, the doll wasn't even that scary. It only fit the deep-seated fears of Western audiences—creepy dolls and whatnot. For a Chinese person like Edward, it really wasn't a big deal. He had nearly forgotten about it. But surprisingly, his fans hadn't.
So, with that in mind, Edward decided he might as well film it.
Annabelle's plot begins with Dr. John gifting a rare antique doll "Annabelle" to his pregnant wife Mia. Though Mia loved collecting dolls, she felt a faint unease toward this porcelain figure. Annabelle simply looked… wrong.
That night, the Higgins couple next door were murdered by members of the cult known as "The Ram's Followers." One of the cultists broke into Mia's house, clutching the doll as she took her own life. Her blood seeped into the doll, awakening a malevolent spirit.
In the days that followed, supernatural disturbances erupted:
the doll moving on its own, the baby room's rocking chair swaying with no wind, bloody handprints appearing in the refrigerator.
Mia repeatedly witnessed a woman in a white dress drifting through the house. The haunting escalated—the elevator malfunctioned, displaying the demonic code "5914," unseen forces clawed her skin, the baby monitor captured cult chants, and the Bible in the study spontaneously burst into flames.
A priest finally revealed that the cult had intended to summon a demon through the doll. The entity designated as "5914" had only one goal: Mia's unborn child. Every time Edward recalled this part, he couldn't help but complain, Western horror movies really loved using "the power of maternal love" to resolve everything.
In the final confrontation, the demon manipulated Mia into nearly throwing herself from a window. When that failed, it threatened her child and demanded her life. Their neighbor Evelyn ultimately sacrificed herself, using her own blood to seal the entity and save Mia and her baby.
But afterward, the Annabelle doll still ended up in someone else's possession—symbolizing that the terror was far from over. Naturally. If it ended completely, how would they keep the franchise alive? As long as there was profit to be made, the studios would continue.
Still, Edward knew that if he simply followed that version, the movie wouldn't feel right. So, he decided to adapt the second film's storyline as Annabelle's true origin.
…
The autumn nights of central-west Sinnoh always carried a damp chill. In Samuel Mullins' workshop, a lone desk lamp cast a dim yellow halo across the wooden table. Samuel was focused on attaching the final screw into a porcelain doll's body, his fingertips stained with wood dust and glue.
His wife, Esther, pushed open the door holding two cups of hot tea. Their daughter, Annabelle, skipped happily behind her, bits of grass still clinging to her hair from playing outside.
"Daddy, look what I found!"
Annabelle pulled a crumpled slip of paper from her pocket. Written in crooked childish handwriting were the words: "Find me." It was their family's favorite game, one person hides a note somewhere in the house, and the others look for it.
Samuel chuckled and ruffled her hair. But just as he bent down to pick up a fallen screw, blinding headlights suddenly tore through the darkness outside.
TN: This scene is confusing; they were in a workshop then an in a car accident?
Screeching brakes.
Twisting metal.
Esther's scream erupting into the night.
When Samuel awoke in the hospital, the doctor told him that Annabelle had died instantly. His hands moved stiffly; in his pocket, he still clutched the half-finished screw that he never got to install. The cold metal felt like it was mocking his helplessness.
On the seventh day after the funeral, Esther smashed every mirror in the house. She was convinced she kept seeing Annabelle's reflection in them—though in truth, nothing appeared. Only her own exhausted face stared back, shattered into pieces.
Samuel locked himself in the workshop, carving wild, chaotic lines onto doll faces.
"There… might be another way."
One late night, Esther, trembling, opened a book she had bought from a dusty street stall—Introduction to Spirit Communion.
By candlelight, they followed the instructions:
In Annabelle's old bedroom, they built a small altar and lit three black candles.
At first, nothing happened.
Until Esther accidentally knocked over a porcelain cup.
The fragments scattered across the wooden floor… forming a crude shape of the letter A.
Before they could react, the Annabelle doll sitting in the corner suddenly turned its head—despite the fact that its joints had long been fixed in place.
"We can bring her back."
A rasping voice exploded directly inside their minds.
"But there will be a price."
When the deal was sealed, Samuel felt something icy slither up his spine.
The next morning, they found the Annabelle doll placed neatly on Annabelle's old bed, its lips curled subtly upward. More chilling still—the doll's left eye socket held a dark red bead. It was Esther's missing button from the week before.
…
The disturbances began as petty mischief:
a toothbrush stuffed into the oven, handfuls of hair packed inside the milk carton.
But over time, the malevolence deepened.
On a stormy night, Esther burst from the bedroom screaming—her left eye socket empty, blood streaking down her cheek. Paralyzed and helpless, she could only watch as the doll sat in her wheelchair and whispered in her own voice:
"Mommy… now it's your turn."
When the priest arrived, the room stank like rotting flesh. He traced crosses in the air and recited scripture, only to be slammed violently to the floor by invisible force. His only option was to seal the doll inside a wardrobe plastered with pages torn from the Bible, hidden in Annabelle's former bedroom.
Before leaving, he hammered seven consecrated nails into the doorframe—each soaked in holy water.
…
Twelve years later, the Mullins estate was converted into an orphanage. When Sister Charlotte arrived with six children, Janice, the girl confined to a wheelchair, was immediately drawn to a red door at the end of the hallway.
"There's someone calling me from inside," she insisted.
That night, while everyone else slept, Janice slipped into the long-forbidden room. Moonlight filtered through dusty glass, illuminating the wardrobe coated with layers of Bible pages.
Compelled by an unseen force, she peeled them away and turned the rusted handle.
The doll sat inside, wearing the little dress Annabelle had last worn in life. When Janice touched the doll's cold ceramic skin, the room's temperature plummeted. In the photographs on the wall, Annabelle's image slowly rotated her head, her eyes glowing faintly green in the dark. White sheets dangled from the ceiling, swaying like the tongues of hanged spirits.
As Janice was shoved down the staircase, she heard the chilling crack of her own spine. After the entity took her body, its first act was to return to Samuel's bedroom.
The old man froze as "his daughter" used his carving knife to bend her fingers backward one by one.
"You disassembled me like this… once."
Esther attempted to ram the intruder with her wheelchair but was effortlessly overturned. Her body was torn open and pinned against the wall in a grotesque cruciform shape, like a twisted art display.
Linda fired rubber bullets at the doll, only for the shots to rebound from the wall and slam into her own knee.
When Officer Jenny arrived, she found only bloodstains and a doll sitting calmly on Annabelle's bed, smiling innocently—yet the red bead in its left eye seemed almost like a hardened droplet of blood.
…
The possessed Janice, now calling herself Annabelle, was adopted by the Higgins couple. Her records simply stated "accident-induced paralysis." No one noticed she spoke to empty corners every night.
Three months later, the neighbors called the police after hearing an infant crying. Officer Jenny forced open the door and discovered the Higgins couple's bodies arranged in kneeling prayer position. Annabelle sat in a rocking chair nearby, humming a distorted lullaby.
When John Form purchased the doll from a vintage shop, the owner cryptically remarked, "It likes children."
Only now did he understand what that meant. Every night, the doll's eyes turned toward the nursery.
His daughter, Lily, recently kept drawing the same scene:
a long-haired girl standing at the foot of her bed, wearing a porcelain mask.
In the old wardrobe, the Bible pages had yellowed and curled with time, yet the demon's laughter remained disturbingly clear.
…
And so Annabelle 2 perfectly linked to the plot of the first film. It truly was a unique approach. But Edward, honestly, didn't mind at all. He already had ideas brewing. Still, the actual filming process would be difficult at the moment, so Edward decided to wait until after Hachiko finished screening.
For authenticity, the film was even nicknamed Hachiko: A Growlithe's Tale, though calling it "Hachiko" was perfectly fine—after all, the Growlithe in the film was named Hachiko too. Edward was actually curious, how would people react after watching it?
Holding onto that thought, time quickly passed, and the premiere day of Hachiko arrived.
Ghost Films had done no promotion whatsoever—no early media screenings, and Edward hadn't even put his name on the project. So many people didn't even know who made the film. But upon seeing the poster featuring the loyal little Growlithe, curiosity led them into the theaters anyway.
This arrangement was requested by the organizers themselves. They wanted fairness—they believed box office results should also influence the awards, and the directors involved in the festival would also watch the movie personally.
Under these circumstances, the audience entered the theater to watch Hachiko.
By the time the movie ended, not a single person stood up. The entire theater remained silent for a long time.
Only when the credits rolled, revealing Edward Stone as the director, and the huge line "Based on True Story" did the audience finally lose control.
Soft sobs began to break out. Even muscular men wiped at their tears. Countless viewers openly wept. Among them were two members of the awards committee, both completely absorbed in the film.
But when it came to deciding whether the movie met the theme of "healing the heart," the two committee members had very different opinions.
"I'm telling you, this is definitely a healing movie! I was incredibly moved watching it. You cried too, didn't you? How is this not heartwarming? Look me in the eyes—tell me it didn't move you!" one judge argued bluntly.
The other judge twitched at the corner of his mouth. Was this even a question? Of course he cried. The film's emotional impact was stunning—piercing, even. It had problems, yes, but it was undeniably powerful. Still, he had his reservations.
"I cried, yes but after finishing it, I felt awful. Depressed. Like something inside me collapsed. You call this healing? I don't. I think it's heartbreaking."
To him, a healing movie should leave people feeling warm and uplifted. But Hachiko left people crushed, grieving, thinking of their own Pokémon… and for those who had recently lost one, the pain hit unbearably hard.
The female judge felt the same way, but after a long sigh, she still believed the film met the theme. So, the two of them sent their conflicting assessments up the chain.
Meanwhile, a trending topic shot straight to the top:
[Director Edward Stone's New Film?]
Millions saw Edward's name and confirmed that Ghost Films had produced the film. After being emotionally devastated by Hachiko, viewers collectively exploded with discussion.
People flooded to social media to ask what the movie was like. And immediately, one after another, comments appeared:
"It's amazing."
"It's hilarious."
"It's heartwarming."
Countless netizens swore this was absolutely NOT a horror movie.
(End of chapter)