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I’ve Always Hated Dolls

Estimated reading time — 4 minutes

Everyone has their fears, whether they are rational or irrational. Mine has always been dolls. Not all dolls, mainly just the ones that are a bit too human. I think it’s mainly the eyes that get to me.

So I’m sure you can imagine I was ecstatic to find out I was the inheritor of my very own clown doll.

It was a gift from my late great Aunt. I’d met her maybe once or twice in my life, so why she left this of all things to me was beyond me.

This doll was something straight from my nightmares. I mean, a doll was bad enough, but then you throw in the clown element as well?

The doll’s glass-like face was painted white, with red accents and markings over the eyes, mouth, and cheeks. The eyes themselves however were nothing but a black void. It has thick white hair jetting out the sides, and a round hat that almost resembles a cherry on top.

Its outfit is essentially your typical clown attire. Like the face, it was a mixture of red and white. This doll is about the size of a toddler. In other words, way too big for me to feel comfortable anywhere near it.

I would have given it away, but out of respect for my grandmother, I kept it.

So, naturally, it’s new home would be my closet. I placed it in the back on top of an old dresser that held clothes which no longer fit me.

I thought that would be that, and my life would go on as it always had.

Unfortunately, that would not be the case.

I’m not exactly a tidy person, so my clothes rarely made it back to my closet. As a result, I didn’t have to see my clown friend for quite a while. It was a few weeks later before I finally went into my closet in the quest for a clean pair of jeans.

There he was.

Sitting on the floor in front of the dresser.

I assumed he must have fallen off the dresser somehow, because I clearly remembered setting him on top.

Those empty black eyes were too much for me, though. I grabbed my jeans quickly and left without bothering to put him back on top.

I spent the rest of the day thinking about how that doll could have fallen off the dresser.

So, as a curious person, I decided to check out the closet when I returned home.

The doll was there, of course, but it was back to its original position atop the dresser. I approached it and looked into those empty eyes.


As much as it creeped me out, it was just a doll, right?

I must have just imagined seeing it on the floor. I live alone, so there’s no way anyone else could be moving it. Regardless, I decided to stay clear of the closet as much as possible.

A couple nights later, I was awoken to the sound of what seemed to be laughter, and it appeared to be coming from the closet.

It was very faint, which is why I was a bit surprised it woke me. Generally, I’m a very heavy sleeper. For something like this to wake me was quite odd.

The last thing I wanted to do was go into that closet, so I decided to attempt to wait it out.


After about thirty seconds I heard a loud thump, and then the laughter stopped.

After turning on every light possible and arming myself with a kitchen knife, I decided it was time to check the closet.

I slowly opened the door and…

It was completely normal, absolutely nothing was out of place. Even the doll was sat upon his normal spot on top of the dresser.

I picked up the doll and felt around it to see if there was any sort of speech box, but there wasn’t.

With a loud sigh, I set the clown back down and left my closet. Perhaps I was finally losing it.

Over the next couple days, I was on high alert. I began to notice small things here and there had gone missing, or were moved, most notably small bits of food that I swear I hadn’t eaten.

I relentlessly searched every nook and cranny of my small house, looking for any possible signs of vermin or other intruders. Everywhere, that is, except the closet.

Alas, my searches turned up nothing, further confirming my idea that I was in fact losing it.

That was until a couple nights later, when the laughing returned. Only this time it wasn’t just faint laughter. This was a booming cackle. The laugh seemed to reverberate throughout my whole house.

I was petrified, I didn’t dare move an inch from my bed.

The laughing persisted, and I began to hear loud banging noises coming from my closet, until suddenly its door swung open.


A large. dark figure emerged and stormed out of my room. I heard it sprint through my house, opening my front door and leaving. As soon as this happened, the laughter stopped.

After reminding myself to breathe, I was finally able to move from my bed. I approached the closet.

What I found devastated me.

My old dresser was no longer against the wall. Instead, it was now in the middle of my closet, and where the dresser had been was a hole. A hole easily large enough for a human to fit behind, but small enough that you would never notice it if it was being covered up.

Beside the hole was the doll, seated perfectly upright, with one arm outstretched towards the hole.

I didn’t dare look in to the hole, afraid of what I might find. Instead I grabbed the doll and locked myself in my car as I called 911.

The police later confirmed my suspicions of what had happened. Someone had been living in my home.

Inside the hole was a pallet where the person had been sleeping, as well as a small amount of trash. Worst of all, the person had a small collection of pocket knives. They were probably not meant to be used as weapons, but it’s still not exactly comforting thinking about it.

Since that night my clown friend has not left my room. He now has his own special perch on the table next to my bed.

I’m still not a huge fan of dolls, but perhaps they aren’t all so bad.

Credit: Devin Hoover (TwitterReddit)

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