The Cracked Porcelain
They say her eyes follow you. In the dark, when the candle flame dips, you can hear the faint scrape of tiny leather shoes against the wood floor. It is only the wind, or perhaps... the whispers she used to tell. Look closer at the cracks; the story is leaking out.
The Other Side of the Veil
The dust is thick, smelling of old rose petals and despair. We have cataloged many anomalies here, but the movement in the shadows remains unexplained. Keep the doors locked, and whatever you do, do not answer the child's lullaby.