Dolls are terrifying. We’ve already covered how I was scared of my American Girl Josefina doll here, but that was the tip of the iceberg… Metaphorically speaking.
I had Samantha, Kit, and one unnamed American Girl doll. Sure, while they were fun to play with, they were also planning to mutiny. It wasn’t that I was a bad doll-owner. I didn’t let my dogs chew on them, I didn’t leave their freaky bodies undressed, I didn’t cut their hair or glue anything on to them. I just didn’t play with them all that much.
After watchingToy Story, I realized that all my toys were alive: my beanie babies were nestled in piles upon piles of neglected angst, my American Girl dolls were bored out of their minds and (probably) learning Spanish from Josefina through telepathy, and my My Twin Doll was probably as terrified of all of them as I was–given that she was, you know, my twin.
My teddy bear lay on my bed, gloating (Although not too much. While I paid more attention to him than all my other toys–he was given to me at birth–I didn’t name him until I was 15)
So I played with my dolls to pacify them. I staged beanie baby onslaughts and brokered the peace between the cats and the bears with Samantha as the mediator. I made Kit a crazy cat lady. I made Josefina the possessed child that climbed into the corner where my walls and ceiling met (just kidding). I juggled my beanie babies to let them know what flying felt like.
But toys can smell fear. The soulless eyes watch your every move, the brainless heads filled with malcontent and bitterness plan your downfall, the stuffing-filled chest where the heart should be instead lies the cushioned pit of Hell. My toys were alive and waiting for me to fall asleep so they could plan their great massacre.
They didn’t want to escape, why would they? The house was ginormous. Our dogs and cats, starved after eating all the food they could find in the house, would turn to munching on our remains. The toys, led by Josefina, would play all day with the remains of myself and my family members, building makeshift homes out of our femurs and making our skulls talk to one another. They would use our dogs and cats as transportation like Woody did to Buster, but with less happiness and more whipping. They would put the annoying toys in plastic bags filled with coins and throw them in the pool, to be weighed down indefinitely. The worst toys, however, the toys that felt bad for destroying the family, who missed my brothers and I, who felt something akin to sorrow or regret–those toys would be made examples of and sacrificed to the dogs as playthings. Milton, my teddy bear, would be attacked with scissors and made to watch as his button-nose was ripped off and his stuffing slowly pulled out to the amusement of our six dogs.
And you wonder why I had trouble sleeping at night.
Highest Form of Whit 
I definitely share that fear. My grandparent’s had to get me a glass case that locked for me to sleep in the same room as my doll collection.
Absolutely most cruel post, ever. And I read this right before going to bed >.<
Remember the clown doll in Poltergeist? *Shudder*
I saw that movie when I was about six, and, thankfully, blocked it out. I have no recollection of anything from that film. But it is on my Netflix instant, so I’m hoping to reopen some old, traumatic wounds! And great! A clown doll! Just what my nightmares needed.
Dolls ARE creepy. I hate them. As a child, I chose to play with my father’s World War II memorabillia instead, tanks, planes etc. Dolls were ignored and kept in the closet so their dead eyes wouldn’t give me the creeps at night…*shivers*
I really share that fear, too, that’s why I never wished to own a doll myself.
But it took me until the age of 13/14 to realize why. At that time, I came up with equally creepy stories like those above, just for fun (and to scare a friend), which ended up giving me(!!) nightmares.
Ever since, I never slept in a room which had a doll in it.
But for some strange reason, I was never afraid of Barbie (or equals)? Maybe because her arms would never fit around my neck.
Haha. I never really had a great fear of dolls. The only time a toy freaked me out was my Furbie, which was kept above my bed. I woke up one morning to find it staring down at me (obviously I simply hadn’t closed it’s eyes properly but I still got a fright). I have a Charlie Bear that is considered to be creepy though. Jointed, wide eyed bears are fun 🙂
Furbies are the devil incarnate. Never owned one, thank god.
I remember reading a book called “The Doll” when I was little and it made me so scared of them, I thought they were going to come alive and attack me! I played will little trolls instead. 🙂
My name is Loryn, I am casting a documentary series for a major network and I am looking for speak with someone regarding ‘taboos’ and or phobias. I just have a few questions to assist in my research and I am looking for someone who is trustworthy and knowledgeable. Please email me lwhitecasting@gmail.com Thanks so much!
CREEPY DOLLS
by the way i’m afraid of dollas too. i’m very afraid of toys & dolls with big eyes. they’re so creepy.
Right?! WHY DO THEY EXIST