The Creepy Doll Closet

Hello All:

They say that every house has a soul. In this old Victorian, the soul is made of porcelain, plastic, and dust. It sits in the shadows of the intermediate level, waiting for the next child to come home. It remembers every child who ever loved it, and every child who ever feared it. And it is always hungry for a friend.

The Creepy Doll Closet

On the intermediate level of an old Victorian two-story home—often called "the den," "the office," or "the rec room" by the various families who have passed through—is a closet in the corner near the radiator. It was originally intended as storage, but over a century ago, it became a play area for a young girl. Outlined with wooden shelves and floored with wool carpet, it housed her prized doll collection.

The collection remained when the family moved out, perhaps left for the next child to enjoy. And they did. The next family had a young girl who delighted in the dolls, adding her own gifts from birthdays and travels. Over decades, the collection grew—Victorian china dolls, Barbies, Bratz dolls—accumulated from generation to generation.

But not every child loved them.

Today, a girl named Shelly lives in the house. Unlike her predecessors, she fears the closet. To her parents, it’s just storage; to Shelly, it’s a place of dread. The dolls are old, their eyes seem too wide, and they give her an eerie feeling. Consequently, the closet is often used as a punishment zone.

Shelly tries to be perfect. But if she didn't know any better, the dolls can come to life and do all sorts of mischief just to frame her and get Mother and Father to punish her. And when Mother and Father punish Shelly…

Uh oh! It's about to happen again!

"Shelly!" Father yells up the stairs. "Come down here!"

Shelly is in her bedroom, practicing for an upcoming concert. The tone of his voice makes her nervous. She scampers out, down the stairs, past the office, and into the kitchen.

Father’s face is stern. "Now I’m only going to ask you this once. Do you know anything about this?"

Shelly grows all the more worried. What did those blasted dolls do this time?

Mother stands over a scattered collection of items on the linoleum floor. "My purse was on the counter. It got knocked over. Everything came out."

"And the money," Father reminds her.

"Where is the money, Shelly?" Mother asks. "You took it from my purse."

"No!" Shelly defends. "I wouldn’t do that. Why would I need money?"

"Bring it back right now."

"Mom, I didn’t take your money! I wasn’t even going through your purse! Why won’t you believe me?"

"Well who would knock my purse over?" asks Mother.

"Yeah..." chimes in Father. "Do you think it was one of the dolls from the creepy doll closet?"

"Daddy, stop it!" snaps Shelly. "You know I don't like those dolls!"

Mother demands an answer for five straight minutes, painting Shelly as a budding thief destined for jail. Finally, exhausted, Mother sends her upstairs.

"She’ll fess up eventually," Father promises with a mischievous smile as Shelly storms past him.

"Daddy, what did you do?" Shelly demands.

"You’ll find out," he says, dropping his voice into a spooky, mysterious register.

Shelly storms into her bedroom, looking for her violin. It’s gone.

"Daddy! Where is my violin?"

"I’m pretty sure you know where it is," Father calls from downstairs.

"And if you want to be ready for your concert, you better keep practicing," Mother adds.

Reluctantly, Shelly descends to the intermediate level. She approaches the creepy doll closet. It’s large—once a small bedroom for a newborn, now a tomb for toys. She pulls the chain; the light bulb flickers on, illuminating rows of silent, staring eyes.

Father had hidden her violin case under a pile of dolls. Shelly refuses to touch them. She uses her foot to kick the porcelain figures aside, her heart hammering. As she lifts the case, the closet door slams shut behind her.

Shelly screams, darting to the door. The doorknob doesn’t turn. Her parents are on the other side, holding it shut.

"Daddy! Let me out!" she pounds on the wood. "Please!"

"The money," Mother’s voice comes through the wood. "Tell us where it is, and we’ll let you out."

"I didn’t steal it! Let me out!"

"Not until you tell us where you hid it," Father says, his voice dripping with that same mysterious tone.

Shelly glances at the corner. A doll jumps from the shelf to the floor. Startled, she looks closer. An old doll sits on the carpet, a pair of twenty-dollar bills lying beside it. The dolls took the money from Mother’s purse and framed her.

"The money is in here!" Shelly shouts. "Please!"

The door cracks open. Father peers in. "Where is it?"

Shelly points to the doll.

Father sighs dramatically. "So one of the dolls went through your mother’s purse, took the money, and brought it back here. Classic."

Mother slips inside, snatches the bills, and glares at Shelly. "You’re not off the hook. You’re staying in here for thirty minutes. Practice your violin with the door shut."

"Mommy, no! I didn’t take it!"

"I’ll add another half hour if you lie," Mother warns.

Defeated, Shelly cries as the door clicks shut. "Stop crying and practice!" Mother yells from the hallway.

Shelly opens her case. Inside sits another creepy doll. She smacks it out, picks up her violin, and begins to play.

The strange thing is, the dolls don’t torment her. They sit motionless, eyes fixed on her, seeming to admire her music. They wish she were their friend.

***

Later that night, Shelly sleeps soundly in bed. But she is startled out of her sleep about a minute to midnight from the sound of an eerie music box that plays on her bedroom floor. Being that Shelly plays the violin, she is familiar with classical pieces and recognized the song coming from the music box. It is Nocturne—opus nine, number two from Chopin. Very frightened, but at the same time curious, Shelly carefully looks down towards the floor that receives just enough illumination from a nearby nightlight. And there in the middle of the room is one of the creepy, old dolls sitting next to a music box. Shelly recognizes this box as being the one that sits on one of the shelves in the creepy doll closet.

The doll misses the days of many decades ago of when a little girl used to dress her up like a ballerina, and help her dance to the music that came from the music box. Couldn't Shelly do the same with her now? She is, after all, a talented musician and surely has an appreciation for the fine arts.

But Shelly screams in horror at the sight, and runs out of the bedroom.

"What's wrong?" asks Father. "Did one of the creepy dolls come out of the closet to play with you?"