Polly, The Staring Dolly

Polly, The Staring Dolly

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Rating: 7.45/10. From 454 votes.
Vote breakdown
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How scary was it?

On my eighth birthday, I got a present that would change my life forever. It was a beautiful doll that looked a lot like me. That is why my grandmother bought it for me. I named her Polly. However, days after I got the doll, things began to get weird, but I didn’t notice.

I slowly became unsocial, never having kids over. All I needed was Polly to make me happy. She was my best and only friend. I just went to school, and came home daily. I never bothered to make friends, or talk to teachers. I even stopped trying in school. I had been a perfect student until I got the present. Nobody really noticed, though, so I didn’t mind.

After about a week of having Polly, I stopped eating real food. I just didn’t feel right eating normal food, so I would always go out to the backyard (we lived in a forest area), after telling my mom I wasn’t really hungry that night, and find some woodland creature to hunt and kill for dinner. My mom didn’t notice me not eating much, until week three. She even took me to the doctor a few times, asking about what was wrong with me. The doctor always had the same answer. I was at a healthy weight and was not sick. After our third visit to Dr. Cortez, my mom decided I was fine and just going through a “stage” as she called it.

After a month of having Polly, my mom noticed me sleeping in my closet instead of my usual place: my bed. And when she would come to check on me, not only would I be in the closet, but Polly would be in my bed. I would also sleep with my eyes wide open. My mom just ignored it, also saying it was a “stage”.

Three months later, I got a haircut. I wanted a bob, and that is what I got. The creepy thing was, after I got my haircut, Polly’s hair started to fall out. It only stopped when her hair was exactly like mine. My mom then knew things were not right with the doll, but I would not part with it because Polly was my friend. She was the only one who understood me.

My mom also told me that when she was about to fall asleep, she would find Polly right next to her bed. Polly would stare at her intently. My mom would put her back in my room, but always find Polly in the same spot when she went back to bed. Eventually, my mom ignored it. I now know that Polly was checking to see if my mom was still awake.

After almost a year, things got stranger. My skin, hair, and eyes started to turn a glowing green. This resulted in another doctor visit, but he said there was nothing he could do. This, my mom finally decided wasn’t a “phase”. She watched me as much as possible. She even quit her job, a crazy move for a single mother, so she could home school me and make sure nothing happened to me.

Then the worst night of both of our lives happened. My mom woke up in the middle of the night, after hearing the backdoor open and slam shut. She ran outside, after noticing that I wasn’t in my bed, and neither was Polly. Once outside, she spotted us immediately. We were walking towards the lake, hand in hand. She ran after us, and was almost too late. Polly was leading me into the water, clearly trying to drown me. Polly turned her head, all the way around, towards my mom. She smiled a sick, malevolence grin that sent shivers down her spine. My mom knew she had to act now, before it was too late.

She ran to me and grabbed my hand, but I pushed her away. She fought until she had me, struggling, in her arms. She placed me in my bed, and locked me in. She sat there, trying to comfort me. I was hysterical. Then, we heard the tapping. We looked at the window, and found Polly standing there staring at us, with her evil green eyes. My mom opened the window, and grabbed her. My mom ran out of my room and threw Polly in the fireplace.

It was on my tenth birthday when I got the courage to ask my mom what Polly was doing, and what had happened to me. She said that my grandmother got Polly for free, from a woman that seemed crazy. Her daughter died days before she got rid of the doll. My mom showed me the research she did, and it turned out that the previous eight owners of the doll were all killed in various ways. The first killed was one year old, the second was two years old, the third was three years, the fourth was four years, the fifth was five years, the sixth was six years, the seventh was seven years, and then there was me. I was the only one to survive.

I am fine now, after much counseling and bed rest, unlike the unlucky seven girls who came across Polly the staring dolly, which is what my family has called her to this day.

—
Credited to Connie and Lauren.

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179 Comments

  1. Mother being so totally inept at, well, being a mother was a bit hard to accept, but I liked the concept. A mindfuck end would have been an enjoyable plus too, although sometimes good ends are nice.

  2. My grandma would get me a glass doll every christmas up until she died. I can’t say it front of my mom, but they scare the fuckin shit outta meh. TT^TT She won’t allow me to get rid of any of them, and there’s one that’s pocessed.
    and-and-and
    ahk…. forget the dolls, my house is scary.

  3. IT’S NOT CREEPY IF IT HAS A REDEEMING ENDING.

    It was pretty creepy actually reading it, but thanks to that redeeming ending I’ll actually be able to sleep tonight.

  4. Lol, thanks. Im happy for the negative feedback though.
    I really like writting, and I want to learn how to make it better.

  5. @Lauren

    Don’t stress. It’s not a bad premise.

    You know your story is really bad when it becomes memetic – “who was phone”, “John was a zombie”, etc. Yours wasn’t nearly that bad. Just keep ’em coming, you’ll improve.

  6. Lauren, don’t let it get to you too much. I liked it enough to post it, and you got positive feedback as well as negative.

    And for what it’s worth, it’s written far better than a lot of the submissions I receive.

  7. Sorry it isnt that good, but I would just like to inform you I wrote this with a ten year old, so even I was expecting it to turn out like crap.
    The girl I wrote it with wanted to send it in, so I did.

    Alright?!

  8. Would be cooler if the mother killed her daugther instead of polly

    I mean, the doll sleept like the girl and the girl like the doll.

    1. i think there was one pasta like that except it was sister-youngersister thing. the sister actually killed the little girl instead of the doll :O

  9. I liked the concept, and I felt that the story was written in the style of a little girl, excusing many of the mistakes.

    The turning green thing threw me, though. I mean, wtf? There was no unifying thema for the actions the doll made the little girl do except for bed/closet.

    I thought she was going to go outside and eat dirt instead of real food (like, mud pies).

  10. I can see a franchise.

    Polly 1

    Polly 2: The new batch

    Polly 3:Polly takes Manhattan

    Polly 4:Polly in da hood

    Polly 5: Polly in Space

    Bride of Polly: Polly goes to California (AKA Polly vs Prop 8)

    Black Polly:Polly runs for president

  11. It’s not the most original pasta I’ve ever read. And the ending was a little blah. Although one of the creepiest things to ever happen to me involved porcelain dolls. Shine a blacklight near a porcelain doll and their eyes start to glow. Or at least that’s what happened to mine. Ever since that night, I’ve been wary of Carla, Sarah, and Elizabeth. (The dolls my grandma gave me) So the story was kinda spooky in that I’m alrady wary of dolls I guess…

  12. since everyone always has an opinion about how a creepypasta could be better we should make a creepyedit board or something.

  13. Story was pretty good until the end, which just kind of stopped abruptly. I do agree that the parenting skills of this mother are pretty damn bad. I mean, a whole YEAR before she realizes something might be wrong? Guess it’s good her daughter didn’t have the measles or something.

    @29 I was wondering that myself. All the other things link doll and girl, but I have never heard of a doll eating woodland creatures. Maybe I should just get out more.

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