When I was younger, until around the age of fourteen, my twin brother and older sister spent a majority of their time brainstorming cruel and creative ways to prank and terrify me. Scaring me when I was younger was not that difficult to do however, as I still slept with two nightlights in my room and insisted on my parents checking every crevasse of my bedroom before I was content, and felt safe enough to call it a night and go to sleep. While my siblings found a new way to horrify me and ensure I slept with my lights on at least three times a week, there was one particular prank they did not plan and it still frightens me to this day.
My parents had gone to Alaska on a vacation and brought me back a traditional, porcelain Eskimo doll. I was never the type to play with dolls, so I made them put it on its stand on the top shelf of my room, directly across from my bed. I hated the way the doll stared at me, so I protested having it in my room, until I realized my parents were disappointed that I hated my gift so much. So I kept it in my room, but moved it closer to my bed so I would not have to keep staring at it every night before going to sleep, and turned it so it faced the wall.
My siblings knew how much I hated having the doll in my room, so one night while I was asleep, they came in to my room and put all of our dolls from the toy box in the basement across my shelf and lined them up around my bed so they were facing me. To top it off, they removed the stuffed animal I slept with every night and replaced it with the Eskimo doll. Halfway through the night I sprawled out on my twin bed, making the Eskimo fall to the ground. When it fell, its right leg broke off and landed right next to it.
When I woke up the next morning I screamed and was terrified of the dozens of eyes staring back at me and watching me. I was initially scared that the Eskimo had somehow moved from its place on the shelf and had dived down onto the ground, but my parents forced my siblings to explain what they had done.
I refused to step foot into my room while all of the dolls were in it, so my parents had my siblings move them out and put the doll back on the shelf, with the right leg next to it, so my mom could glue it on later. My siblings had moved the doll back to its original position, facing across from my bed on the shelf and I had trouble going to bed that night, because the Eskimo’s constant gaze felt unsettling.
The next morning my mom came to glue the dolls leg back on, but both legs were intact, with the doll standing on its own without its stand, and its right arm now placed beside it. My mom thought I had simply gotten the two limbs confused, but my siblings saw the doll as well and saw the leg broken off the doll.
To this day my parents insist on keeping the doll in the room – I think my whole family enjoys scaring me – with its arm lying next to the stand. Every so often I wake up and the doll is rotated just a little bit away from my bed and sometimes its arm appears further away on the shelf, or on the opposite side of the doll than where I left it.