Polly, The Staring Dolly
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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Reasons why I hate dolls like that. I even hate porcelin dolls. I only own one porcelin doll from my old collection, but it’s the one my father had given me, so it has sentimental value. *shudders* The thing still creeps me out though…
post #3 was ten times better than this story will ever be ._.
The maximum people Polly can kill will probably be 100, considering how killing anyone aged 100 and above would be mundane as they are near to death anyway.
Good concept, but a huge let-down ending. Not to mention that the mother needs some serious schooling on how to determine a “phase” from abnormal. As well, the grandmother should be smacked on the head for taking a doll from a crazy woman. That’s just a big ‘NO’.
I thought it would probably been much neater if Polly was trying to drown Narrator so she could take her place since they do look alike.
The doctor should be sued. Just my opinion.
Be nice, Fuzzy.
This would make a good movie. I’d watch it. I love horror films.
An illogical, extremely long, boring, cliched and stupid post. Really, this is something I might’ve told to my friends when I was in grade two.
Yeah, because sleeping in your closet is a phase, glowing green skin isn’t overdone, and the family still mentioning the doll as well as giving her a nickname is totally realistic.
o.o this is the first happy ending I’ve come across, and I like it =D
I think it was a pretty good story, couldn’t spot any grammar mistakes. Not like I’m a grammar Nazi like other people, I think it’s more so the story that counts than the grammar. As long as it’s decently written and eligible.
Leave it 80+ years and she’ll be killing OAPs.
Thing is, eventually Polly would be useless, effectively after her 15th victim at the most, surely.
o_o no
(: you people all just make me lol. thanks.
“She smiled a sick MALEVOLENCE grin that sent shivers down her spine.”
Orly, PollytheStaringDolly?
Malevolent.
*face/palm*
Much too cliche. Creepy doll kills people. How many times has it been done already?
lol #3. Hahaha.
THEN WHO WS GRANNY
You have the worst Mum ever D:
Someone’s been watching too much Ghost Hunt…
WAY too much…
To the point where they begin to copy the stories and post them as Creepypasta…
*cough* *cough*
lolololol just like mandy da hunted dolllololol
1: worst fucking parent on the planet; did not notice kid not eating for THREE WEEKS
2: dumbest fucking person on planet “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.”
3: how do you research people who owned a certain doll?
this is one of my top 2 favorite pasta! its actually tied for 1st with the willow men!!! XD DON’T KILL ME POLLY!!! XD
This would make an awesome movie.
polly is creepy…. T^T
@everyone talking about the mom’s “parenting”
whaddya expect? she’s a single mother!!
… I keep waiting for the line that says “POLLY KILLED YOU ON YOUR 9TH BIRTHDAY! YOU’RE DEAD, HAHAHAHA.”… But I guess that didn’t happen, Polly being ‘dead’ and all?
Srsly, Creepypasta shouldn’t have happy endings. This works much better as a .. normal sort-story.
Nice idea, though; there’s always something spooky about toys.
The concept is nicely creepy, but the ending was a bit of a let-down.
It’s not that it ended well – even scary stories are allowed to. But it’s too explainy. Cut out the entire last two paragraphs, and various ages of the previous victims. It’s a scary story, not an anecdote; it has to leave the reader creeped out and confused, not relieved and/or bored. ;)
One hint: Stories told from the first person perspective don’t have to end well. They just need a plausible way for the narrator to be here to tell the story – a diary, a recording, or by breaking the fourth wall and turning the narrator into some kind of bogeyman.
OMG I SHAT BRICKS this recalls one of my worst fears(and still is) TOYS im 12 and much prefer books with substance besides something with creepy eyes and small parts 0_0 epic pasta >:)
would have ended better if the girl had died.
This one was “ok.”
This is exactly like a Johnny Bravo episode
Polly got her panties in a bunch.
: ]
I’m sorry…
Yeah, not exactly my favorite kind of pasta. The style is interesting, but doesn’t quite creep me out in the end.
You know, there really isn’t enough unknown or maliciousness there. Just a doll who kills girls for some arbitrary reason.
Also, as mentioned, does feel a bit fake at times. Again, style, but things don’t quite creep you out when they dismiss basic logic.