By: Lana Abdole
Little kids and their toys have always been creepy when combined into a scary story. It’s just abnormal for something that’s supposed to be pure to become something evil; it adds to the fear factor. It has been a topic of debate for psychologists whether fears are innate or not. Some believe as babies we don’t fear much, we learn to fear things. In first grade I still hadn’t been exposed to the genre of horror, until one day at recess while we were all sitting around the sand box, my friend told a story:
Sarah and her mom were at the store looking for a new toy for Sarah’s birthday. They were in the doll aisle looking at the life like dolls. Sarah’s eyes fell on one particular doll “Mommy, I want that the one” she says. The doll was a toddler-sized doll, with braided, blonde hair and it wore a yellow sunflower dress. Her mom looks at the doll and notices something strange in comparison to the others, “but honey that one only has three fingers”. “But I want that one” she whines, stomping her foot down. Her mom sighs, but agrees. As they were talking they didn’t notice the slightest twitch of the dolls hand.
Sarah played with her doll all day, and right before she’d go to sleep she would tuck the doll into the crib that was kept in the basement. Sarah failed to notice, every morning, that the doll was never in the same position as the way she left it the night before. Sarah’s mom noticed that items around the house weren’t as they were before she went to sleep, but she just thought Sarah might’ve moved things around and didn’t think much into it. As the days passed, Sarah grew bored with the doll, as all kids do, and left it untouched in its crib.
One night down in the basement, when everyone was asleep, the doll sat up with a haunting smile. It hopped over the crib and made its way upstairs to the living room area. She goes into the kitchen and grabs a knife. She walks towards the stairs that leads up to the bedrooms. As she begins to climb them she starts to sing in a sing-song voice, “I’m on the first step, I’m on the second step, …” and it continues on until she reaches Sarah’s door, “I’m on your doorstep” then it walks over to her bed “I’m sitting on your bed.” Right as Sarah is somewhat conscious and about to scream, she stabs her in the chest. Then slices off two of her fingers and somehow attaches them to her own hand.
The next morning Sarah’s mom is taken over by grief at the site of her daughter. Her clothes bloodstained around the chest and her hands crusted with blood. The doll was nowhere to be seen.
I can assure you, after I heard this story, I never owned another doll again. For me, since this was my first taste into the genre of horror, kids stories have always been the scariest kind of scary stories. Hearing these type of stories when you’re a kid is terrifying because it takes something you’re attached to, like a toy, and makes you fear it. It makes things that aren’t supposed to be scary, scary. That’s why movies like Chuckie, The Sixth Sense, and stories similar to those, are such successful scary movies.