~Haunted Doll~

Back in the early 1980s, Cabbage Patch dolls were all the rage. Every little girl wanted one. Me being a little girl at the time, it was only natural that I too very much wanted one. So, that Christmas when I made my wish list of all the things I wanted for Christmas, I placed it at the top of that list.

Christmas morning when I awoke and headed out to the living room to see what Santa had brought me, I was ecstatic. On the floor, placed right beside my stocking and amongst a few other things that Santa had brought me, was a brand new Cabbage Patch doll. It was sitting inside its sealed box, just waiting for me to open it.

I let out a squeal of excitement, rushed over, sat down on the floor and quickly tore the box open. I took the doll out of the box, held it in my arms and immediately fell in love with her, and loved the way she smelled. Cabbage Patch dolls were scented and smelled just like baby powder, and I absolutely loved the smell. In fact, I remember sitting on the floor for a few minutes just happily hugging and smelling my brand new doll.

A handful of months later it was my birthday, and because I had so loved the Cabbage Patch doll that I received for Christmas, my parents bought me another one. I was extremely happy with my new doll and fell in love with that one too. 

As the weeks and months passed, I was growing up, so I was becoming less and less interested in playing with my Cabbage Patch dolls, or with any of my dolls for that matter. 

While I no longer played with them, each day when I awoke, I would make my bed and then place some of my beloved dolls, including my Cabbage Patch dolls on it. At bedtime I would then take them off the bed and place them somewhere in my room. 

I'm not sure when it actually began or when it first occurred, but a few months after receiving the doll that I got for my birthday, I was beginning to notice that the doll was being moved. 

I would place the doll somewhere, only to return to my room later and discover the doll sitting on my bed. I wouldn't find her sitting just anywhere on my bed either, she was always found in the same place, sitting propped up, in front of the pillow at the head of my bed.

The first few times I noticed it, I didn't really bother to pay much attention to it. It didn't frighten me. I simply assumed that my mom must have been in my room tidying up or something and had placed the doll on my bed.

Then, one day while I was in my bedroom, I had decided to do some drawing. I loved to draw and was always doodling. This time however, rather than sit at my desk in my room to draw like I normally would, I decided to lay down on my bed, on my stomach while I drew. 

Due to the fact that some of my dolls were laying on my bed and there wouldn't be much room for me to lay there to draw, I picked all of the dolls up and placed them on my desk. I then took out some paper and crayons from one of the desk drawers, and placed them on my bed. 

Before laying down to draw, I realized that I needed to go to the washroom; which was only a few steps away from my bedroom. I headed to the washroom and was gone for only a few seconds. Upon my return to my room I noticed that my doll was on the bed again, sitting up in front of my pillow. 

I became very creeped out, so much so that the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I immediately turned and left the room. I headed straight to the living room where my mom was sitting and reading a book. I approached her and asked her if she had just been in my room and had moved my Cabbage Patch doll. 

My mom looked up from the book she was reading and told me no, that she hadn't been in my room.  From the look upon my face I assume she thought I didn't believe her, because she then informed me that she hadn't moved from that very spot since sitting down there almost a half hour earlier.

I turned and left, heading straight to my brother's room. I knocked on his door. In response to my knock I heard him say, "Yeah? Come in." I opened his door and walked in. 

He was sitting on his bed amongst some of his hockey books and hockey cards. I could see he was obviously quite involved in whatever he was doing. Without even really looking up at me he asked me what I wanted. 

I asked him if he had just been in my room and if he had perhaps moved one of my dolls. When he told me no, I just stood there glaring at him. He looked up at me and said, "What?" I insisted, "Are you sure?"

My brother looked rather annoyed and said, "First of all, why would I go into your room? And second, why would I touch any of your dolls?" I just stared at him. 

I then proceeded to tell him that lately I had begun to notice that after putting my doll down somewhere in my bedroom and then leaving the room, I return and find my doll no longer there, but sitting on my bed. I told him how I always return and find her in the same place, sitting propped up in front of my pillow at the head of my bed.

My brother just looked at me like I was crazy and said, "Uh, yeah, okay." I became rather angry and said, "What? You think I'm making this up?" My brother looked at me somewhat compassionately, almost with pity and said, "Really?  C'mon. Think about it, how could your doll possibly move on its own?" 

To be perfectly honest, I really couldn't think of a good answer, but I was certain in what I was experiencing and was mad that he didn't believe me. Exasperated, I simply turned and walked away. 

Over the next few weeks I made a point of looking to see where my doll was before leaving my room. And sure enough, no matter where I had placed her, or where she was when I left the room, I would return and find her sitting up on my bed, in front of my pillow again. This occurred several times, and each time I would question my parents and/or my brother, only to be told that they had not been in my room and had not touched my doll.

One afternoon I was in my room and noted that my doll was sitting on top of one of my dressers. I then stepped out of my room for literally only a few seconds to get something out of the closet that was straight across the hall from my room. 

While getting what I needed from that closet, no one had come into the hallway, which means no one could have gone into my bedroom.  If anyone walked into my room they would have had to have walked right past me, and I would have seen them. There was no other way anyone could have otherwise entered my room.

So, knowing that no one had gone into my room I was shocked and mortified when I walked back into my room, looked to the dresser and saw that my doll was not there. I looked to my bed and there she was again, propped up in a sitting position in front of my pillow! How could she have possibly gotten there? 

I can't even begin to find the right words to describe how scared I was. One thing was for certain however, I was so scared that I felt a bit sick to my stomach, and my legs felt weak and shaky. I immediately took off out of my room in search of my mom. 

I found her sitting in the kitchen. I was somewhat breathless because of how scared I was and how quickly I had run from my room. Between gasps for air, I asked my mom if she was the one that was continually moving my doll. My fear was beginning to turn to panic and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

My mom looked at me rather quizzically and told me that she had no clue what I was talking about.   My stomach dropped and I began to cry.

I then turned to my dad who was sitting in the next room and asked him if he was the one that kept moving my doll. But, like my mom, my dad just looked at me rather perplexed as to why I was so upset and then proceeded to tell me that he hadn't touched any doll and had no clue what I was talking about.

Due to how upset I was, both of my parents asked me what was wrong. I didn't answer, I simply turned and headed towards my brother's room. I banged on my brother's bedroom door and didn't even wait for him to answer, I simply whipped the door open and barged in.

My brother was laying in bed reading and looked up at me when I entered. I immediately began to raise my voice and with tears streaming down my face I asked him if he was the one that kept moving my doll. 

My brother had a somewhat of a surprised look on his face because of how upset I was and it appeared he obviously had no clue what I was talking about either. He said, "No, I haven't touched any of your things. Why?" 

My parents who had followed me when I headed to my brother's room, were now standing behind me in the doorway. They both asked me what I was going on about and why I was so upset. I turned to face them and could see that they both looked rather dumbfounded.

My brother sat up on the edge of his bed. I sat down right beside him. My brother looked at me and said, "Do you want me to tell them?" I just shrugged my shoulders and told him, "Sure." 

He began telling our parents what I had just told him only a few weeks ago. He told them all about my doll and how whenever I leave my room, no matter where the doll is, when I return she is always somehow back on my bed, sitting in front of my pillow.

My dad looked to my brother and said, "You're not the one moving it are you? Honestly?  Because it's not funny, your sister is really upset." My brother almost looked hurt over my dad's slight accusation that perhaps it was him, and said, "No, I haven't touched any of her stuff. I haven't even been in her room." 

As angry as I was, I completely believed him. As much as I hated to admit it when I was a kid, my brother truly was a good guy. He was always kind and respectful, not only towards our parents but to me as well. 

Being the eldest child and four years older than me, he was always looking out for me. As hard as it is to believe, he never really ever argued with me. Yet, God knows I certainly tested his patience plenty of times. Deep down I knew damn well that my brother would have never done anything to truly scare me or upset me like that.

And, after seeing how surprised and hurt he looked after my dad's question and comment to him, I knew he had nothing to do with it. The reality of it all began to sink in and I was truly scared. Who or what was moving my doll? I knew what I was seeing and experiencing but how could that be possible?  Dolls can't move on their own...can they?

My parents asked me if I wanted to talk about it. My dad then encouraged me to sit down with them and talk about what was going on. So, at my dad's insistence, we all headed out to our living room to sit down and talk. 

My dad was the first one to say something. He turned to me and said, "So, what's going on with this doll? When did all of this start happening, or when did you first notice it?" He also asked me if I had perhaps seen something on t.v, such as a movie or a t.v show that might have frightened me and was perhaps the real cause of it all.

I had not seen anything on t.v that had scared me, and I told my dad that. I also told him, "at first I didn't really pay much attention to it because I simply assumed it was mom moving the doll while tidying up my room. But once I did begin to really notice it, I made sure to take note of where my doll was before leaving the room. No matter where the doll is when I leave my room, I come back and find her sitting on my bed, propped up in front of my pillow." I then told him about the most recent experience that had just occurred.

I told him that before I walked out of my room, I saw that my doll was sitting on my dresser. I told him, "I walked out of my room, went to the linen closet, opened the closet door, took out a towel, closed the door, turned around and headed back into my bedroom. When I entered my room I immediately looked to the dresser and my doll was not there. I looked to my bed, and there she was."

While explaining everything to my dad and hearing what I was saying, I realized how completely ridiculous I sounded. I was scared, angry and frustrated. Through tears I said, "I know that everything I'm telling you sounds crazy, but I am telling you the truth. I am not making this up."

My dad just stared at me and then looked at my mom. I could tell by their faces that they wanted to believe me but they were grappling with the fact that what I was telling them defied logic. Things don't simply move all by themselves. Do they?

My dad looked at me again and I could see that he felt sorry for me and wanted to help. He asked me if I really believed that my doll was moving all by itself. I looked at him and told him that in all honesty I didn't know what to think or believe, but I was certain of it, it was really happening. I told him that I was not imagining any of it and I was not lying. I said, "I am telling you, someone or some thing keeps moving my doll."

Both of my parents starting talking to me, trying to tell me as nicely as possible that I was simply letting my imagination get the best of me. They then basically told me that I was getting myself worked up over nothing because things can't move all by themselves. 

Part of me was beginning to wonder if they believed me, or if perhaps they truly thought that I was crazy. I started to feel really angry. I knew it was occurring yet no one believed me. I was then suddenly struck with the realization that even if my parents did believe me, what could they possibly do about it That thought made me even more upset and more scared.

I then told my parents through tears and sobs, "I really don't care if you believe me or not, I am telling you, something or someone keeps moving my doll. I know that things can't simply move all by themselves, but somehow, some way my doll keeps moving from wherever I put her." 

My parents both looked at each other and exchanged glances. I could tell that they didn't really know what to say, or what to make of what I was telling them. They both looked somewhat creeped out too, and that scared me. 

My brother spoke up at that moment and said, "You know, with all the things she has seen in her room and stuff, who knows, maybe a ghost is moving her doll. Or maybe the doll is haunted." My dad quickly turned to my brother, and looking a bit annoyed said, "Don't tell her that, then she won't want to sleep in her room again." 

* I must note here that my dad was referring to other incidents I had experienced and because of them, had refused to sleep in my room.  My brother and I ended up switching bedrooms.

I told my dad that I was not afraid to be in my bedroom, but I was starting to not want the doll. My parents then asked me what I wanted to do with it, and I told them I didn't know, and I really didn't. The entire situation was almost a little too much for me to try and make any sense of. I didn't know what to think, and I had to admit that there was a part of me that was beginning to wonder if perhaps I had simply imagined the entire thing. Maybe my parents were right.? Or perhaps, maybe, just maybe I really was crazy!?

Over the next few days, I was very much relieved to discover that each time I returned to my bedroom, my doll was in the exact same spot it was when I had left the room. Then one night, while getting ready for bed, I took my Cabbage Patch dolls off my bed and placed them on my dresser. 

I folded my bedspread as I pulled it down the bed. I then picked the bedspread up, and while it was still all folded, I walked over to my closet, opened the doors and placed it on top of the trunk in my closet. I then shut the closet doors. I turned back around to face my bed, and there, sitting back on my bed was the doll!

I immediately took off out of my room to go get my brother, who I knew was still awake. When he saw how upset I was and after I told him what had just occurred, he looked a bit creeped out. He just stared at me and said, "Are you serious?"  

I headed to my parents bedroom, my brother followed. We found them both awake, laying in bed reading.  I proceeded to tell them about what just happened. After I finished telling them about it, neither of them said a word, they both just stared at me. I noticed that they, just like my brother, looked rather creeped out. 

My dad was the first one to speak and said, "I think we should just get rid of that damn doll." I was immediately filled with terror. I said, "No. What if we do that and the doll gets angry?" Both of my parents tried reasoning with me, again telling me that I was letting my imagination get the best of me. But I was insistent. I would not get rid of the doll. I was too terrified to get rid of it.

That night, my dad suggested that I give the doll to my mom and have her put it away. I happily agreed and once my mom had placed the doll up high on a shelf in their bedroom closet, I headed to bed.

For the longest time, every single night when I went to bed, I would leave both of the side table lamps in my bedroom on. I also had two lamps that sat on top of one of my larger dressers, one towards each end. I had to have those on too. I was terrified of the dark and had to have pretty near every single light in my room on all night while I slept. At times I even wanted the light on my ceiling kept on.

Unfortunately, I ended up having a few experiences where at some point in the night I had awakened, opened my eyes and saw someone or some "thing" in my room. I had not dreamt it or imagined it either. I was very much awake when it occurred. 

Of those various experiences, only a few of them were scary and completely terrified me. But, because of those negative experiences, I had developed a fear of leaving the lights on. The thought of waking up throughout the night, opening my eyes and seeing God only knows what in my room, standing at my bedside, truly terrified me. 

And yet, while I was afraid of leaving the lights on and what I may see in my room, I also didn't want my room too dark either. I wanted to be able to see somewhat. The thought of sleeping in a real dark room and hearing something, specifically voices of people talking, or people calling my name, and not being able to see what they looked like terrified me as well.

My parents came up with the idea of leaving the light on in our main bathroom all night and leaving my bedroom door open. Since that bathroom was so close to my room, the light would shine into my bedroom. It was a good idea because the light gave off just enough light into my room so that my room wasn't too dark, and yet it also wasn't brightly lit. I had found a happy medium.

Somehow, and I can't remember why or how, the doll ended up back in my bedroom. I placed it on top of one of my dressers, and there it sat, right alongside my other Cabbage Patch doll. A few weeks passed, and at no time did the doll move from that spot. Then, one day while making my bed, I decided to place the dolls on my bed. Later that night at bedtime, I took the dolls off of my bed and placed them on the floor, right beside the head of my bed.

That night, while laying in my bed, on my side facing the dolls, I glanced down at them. I suddenly noticed that the doll that was forever being somehow moved and placed back on my bed, looked like it was moving its eyes. For a moment I wasn't quite sure if what I was seeing was actually happening. I thought I was simply seeing things.

I leaned a little closer to the dolls, and sure enough, the dolls eyes were moving! It looked like it was looking around! I was immediately filled with terror. I was so scared I couldn't move. I just laid there, literally frozen with fear, watching the eyes on the doll move.

It took every single ounce of what little courage I had left to jump off the bed. My mind was literally screaming at my body to move. After I bolted out of my bed, I ran to the living room where my mom was watching t.v. I sat down and in a surprisingly calm voice said, "Mom, I need you to do something.  I want you to go to my room, lay down on my bed and look at my dolls that are laying on the floor, and tell me what you see. Tell me if you see anything." 

I didn't know where the calm in me was coming from, but I really wanted my mom to verify that I wasn't truly crazy. My mom got up and followed me down the hall to my bedroom. I stood in my doorway, pointed to my bed and to where my dolls were laying on the floor and said, "Go lay down on your side, and look at my dolls. Tell me what you see."

My mom headed over to my bed, all the while asking me why. I simply told her, "Just do it, I'll explain it in a minute." As instructed, my mom laid down on my bed, turned onto her side, and looked down at the dolls.

My mom then got off the bed, bent down and picked up the doll and headed to our kitchen with it.  Next, she opened up one of the kitchen cupboards and took out a big green garbage bag. She then placed the doll inside it and tied it closed.

I asked her what she was doing and she said, "I'm putting this doll up." She then took it and placed it on the shelf inside her walk-in closet and placed an old, very heavy typewriter we had on top of it.

The doll sat on her shelf like that for the longest time and I eventually forgot all about it. It was many years later when sitting around with my parents and my brother, talking about old times that I thought about that doll. I asked my mom what happened with it, what she had done with it. 

My mom admitted to me that the doll had truly scared her the night that it looked like its eyes were moving, and with all of the creepy stories of me talking about my doll moving, she had my dad get rid of it.


This was an experience that I thought about sharing for quite some time, but had hesitated because I realize that it all sounds so completely ridiculous.  Even as a child while experiencing all of it, I would hear myself telling my parents about it and realized how completely ridiculous I sounded.  I may have only been a kid but I was well aware of the fact that my rantings sounded like those of a raving lunatic.

I know that many people will read this post and will chalk it up to simply being made up.  Others will be of the belief that it was all due to nothing more than a child with a wild imagination.  Yet, the truth of the matter is that these things truly did occur.  My experiences occurred exactly as I have relayed them to you. 

I'm sure that some of you reading this may wonder, "If your experiences sound so ridiculous and unbelievable, and you worry that people won't believe you, why do you bother to share them?"

Well, let me explain...

I have received numerous e-mails from people that have come across my blog and who have read my various posts, and who are very eager to share and/or discuss an experience that they have had.  After sharing their experience with me, many people inform me that they have never spoken to anyone about it before for fear of being ridiculed or people thinking that they are crazy.  So, that is why I share my experiences.  I want other people to know that they are not alone with their "crazy", "unbelievable" experiences.

I am well aware that this world has its fair share of crazy people, and many of my experiences sound just that...crazy.  But I am also well aware that there are some things that we truly can not explain and science can not prove or disprove.

In saying that, I realize that many times things that are deemed "paranormal" are in fact not paranormal at all, and they have a perfectly reasonable explanation.  So, due to that fact, I tend to be one of those people that is not quick to jump to conclusions and simply label something as being paranormal. 

In fact, even now, many years after some of my experiences, I still find myself looking back and trying to come up with some sort of a reasonable, logical explanation for what occurred.  Yet, this experience is one of many that I truly can not find a logical explanation for.

And in all honesty, when I look back and think about my various experiences, the worst part of all of it was when I began to realize that my parents had no control over any of it. 

As for this particular experience with my doll, my parents could see how upset I was over it and how terrified I was, yet they could not make it stop.  There was nothing they could do, and that was a very terrifying realization for me. 



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