posted on Aug, 26 2008 @ 12:13 AM
I thought I was just going to lurk forever on this board and never join, but this thread has pulled me out of the woodwork.
The story I have to share doesn't really have any paranormal elements to it (as far as I know), but it is about dolls and how uneasy they can make an
When I was about nine years old, my Mom and Dad threw me a surprise birthday party and they hired a clown performer. In keeping with this theme, one
of the gifts I was given was a clown marionette. It seemed like a fun toy at first -- even though I didn't particularly care for clowns. It was
about two feet tall, with a wooden face, hands, and feet and a cloth body.
Well, the marionette was tucked away with my stuffed animals, on a small bench in my bedroom. After about a week or so, it really started to creep me
out. It had big, googly eyes and a rather sinister smile. So, I took it off of the bench and buried it in the bottom of my closet, underneath all of
my other toys. A couple of days later, my mom was helping me tidy up my room, and she said, "Where's your clown marionette?" I told her that I
thought it was in the closet, and she dug through my toys until she found it. Then she returned it to its original place on the bench.
And so began a silent battle with my mother. I'd get freaked out and bury "Mr. Clown" (My mom's name for it; I hated it so much I didn't name
it) in the bottom of my closet. She would dig him out and put him back on the bench. This happened throughout my childhood until we moved out of the
house we were in. At the new house, I stuck Mr. Clown in the closet and happily, he remained there.
Years later, when I had been living on my own for a couple of years, my mom asked me to come over and sort through all of the stuff that I still had
stored at her house. She was about to convert my old bedroom into her computer room and wanted to clear out the closet. So, Mom and I sat down to
sort through everything. And there, down at the very bottom of my closet, a little wrinkled but no worse for wear, was Mr. Clown. Mom held him out
to me and said, "Oh look! It's Mr. Clown! Don't want to take him home with you?"
I took a deep breath and decided to confess. I said, "I hate to tell you this, Mom, but that thing has always freaked me out. That's why I'd
always bury it in the bottom of my closet. I never wanted it out where it could see me."
I thought she might be annoyed or maybe even a little sad about this confession, but instead, she burst into hysterical laughter and called my father
into the room. She asked me to repeat what I told her, so I did.
My dad heaved a huge sigh of relief when I was done talking. He said, "I have hated that thing since the moment you got it. It always scared me.
Your mother kept digging it out of the closet, and I couldn't understand why she didn't just leave it there."
"I kept digging it out of the closet because I had this strange feeling it would get angry if I left it in there!" My mother explained. "I always
felt like it could get angry very easily -- it scared me!"
The three of us had a good laugh...and then we all carried Mr. Clown outside and dumped him in the trash. My dad made a joke about maybe finding it
again one day under mysterious circumstances. I told him that if it did reappear, I didn't want to know about it.
So, like I said, not really paranormal related, but definitely an example of how uneasy some toys can make people!
[edit on 26-8-2008 by SalvationJane]