The Dolls of Terror

[shadowprincess 0]

The Dolls of Terror

When I was younger, my parents and relatives used to shower me with dolls in all different sizes: rag dolls, baby dolls, and most of all, Barbie dolls. Unfortunately, unlike other little girls, I did not like dolls at all and I used to envy my younger brothers who got soft cuddly teddy bears and other soft toys of that sort. Whenever no one was looking, I would take some of my brothers’ teddies and organize a little tea party for them while my own dolls lay in a heap across the room. And let me tell you, my dolls were in really bad shape. Most of my Barbie dolls ended up mutilated in some way or another – their arms and legs were pulled off and they had really awful “make-up” jobs from yours truly. In a desperate attempt to make me take care of my dolls, my mother used to tell me: dolls come alive when no one is looking and if I keep mistreating my dolls, one day they would decide that they’ve had enough and they would come for revenge. Like every other kid, I did not take my mother’s words seriously – until I turned eight, that is. Something happened that changed my life forever.

Now, out of all my dolls, there was one that stood out. It was a huge doll, almost as big as a three year old and a very ugly one too. The doll looks a lot like the killer doll in the movie Child’s Play. Anyway, on that fateful day, my brothers and I were playing throw-the-ugly-doll-around-until-someone-drops-it. The person who drops it would have the “privilege” of sharing his or her bed with it. Needless to say, I was the “lucky” one that night. Reluctantly, I laid the doll beside me and snuggled under my blankets and went to sleep.

My mother’s father, my grandfather has a shop house where upfront, it’s a convenience store while at the back would be the living room and kitchen and upstairs would be the bedrooms. During the day, nobody ever goes upstairs because everyone was usually busy but we children did not know that. My cousins and I used to think that it was haunted during the day and were terrified by that thought. To get upstairs, u had to go up this really dark stairway with wooden boards that creak with every step you take which makes it all the more horrifying. That day, we were all huddled at the bottom of the stairs talking about what would happen if we went upstairs. Next thing I knew, my cousins were daring me to go upstairs. Being the oldest among them and wanting to seem brave to the younger ones, I accepted the dare.

Reluctantly, I put on a brave face and took my first step onto the stairs still contemplating whether I should go on with the dare or quit and come out as a wimp. Regrettably, my huge ego took over and I decided to go on. So, up I went and creak, creak, creak went the stairs. In the background, I could hear my cousins cheering me on. Finally, I reached the top and I looked around triumphantly when all of a sudden, I heard a tiny squeak. Against my better judgment, I decided to investigate. I saw the door to one of the bedrooms open as if beckoning me towards it. As I stepped into the room, I was shocked to see not one or two of my dolls but all of them sitting beautifully in a row in the bed. Oddly, all of them looked like new. No scribbles on their faces. No tears in their dresses. I stared at them in disbelief.

However, that all changed in a blink of an eye. Scribbles appeared on their faces, their neat hair became a mess, and their frocks looked old and tatty. All of them turned to stare at me and I could see the anger and hatred in their expressions. I backed off and ran towards the stairs but it was not there anymore! In its place was a black nothingness that seemed never ending. When I turned around, I gasped when I saw my dolls standing there with wicked smiles plastered across their faces. Leading the pack was none other than the ugly doll. As they advanced towards me, I screamed as I took I step back and fell into the black emptiness. As I fell, I could hear an evil high pitched laugh that seemed to fade the deeper I fell.

I woke up sweating and screaming my head off only to be staring into the cold, lifeless eyes of the ugly doll. I screamed even more and when my parents rushed in, I screamed for them to take away the doll. I cried for a good fifteen minutes after that in my mother’s arms before falling asleep again. Even after twelve years, the ugly doll still resides in the storeroom of my house. After that dream, I got rid of all my dolls and whenever I get any dolls as presents, I never ever take them out of their box. This dream was the most significant in my life and I have been terrified of dolls ever since.