The Rise of the Haunted Dolls

Evil Spirit Witch Doll
Evil Spirit Witch Doll


This post was inspired by a recent news story about a pair of “haunted” child’s sneakers for sale on Ebay. This piqued my interest and I was curious to find out what supernatural items could be bought online. The search brought up a whole host of strange items from the wonderful to the creepy!

It’s no surprise to me (the girl who turned her porcelain dolls backwards when she was going to sleep!) that the most prevalent of the “haunted items” are dolls. There are all types but mainly of the porcelain persuasion, many are “haunted” by the ghosts of children. The famous Annabelle doll even inspired her own movie. First up is “Claire”, she is described as the spirit of a wealthy widow. The spirit is described as dark and demanding, yet a great protector for the home and owner!

 

Claire - Spirit of a Rich Widow
Claire – Spirit of a Rich Widow

 

One of the less menacing dolls is “Carella the Psychic”. Carella is a soft-sculpture doll with a heavily made-up face, bushy hair and psychic powers. She promises to bring the user luck with money and the spirit has been in the doll for decades.

 

Carella the Psychic
Carella the Psychic

 

Doll number three in the mix is “Eve”. She is one of the more expensive of the dolls, on sale for a cleverly picked sum of $1666.00. Eve is a distinctive looking red-haired doll with black tears streaking down her cheeks and a beautiful ornate silver dress. Eve is a dark and evil doll haunted by the spirit of a murderous woman who murdered her lover and her sister after finding they had been having a secret affair and then plunged a knife into her own heart. The back story for this doll is as ornate as her outfit.

Eve Doll
Eve Doll

From my investigation it seems that the more evil the doll is, the more expensive it will be (and of course the more elaborate the back history for the doll), which brings me to the next one. For a princely sum of $3500 someone can be the lucky owner of a very evil spirit doll. Whether the tales behind the Evil spirit doll below are true or not, there would be no way I’d want to purchase something with a description of “the stuff nightmares are made of”. This might be down to my love of horror movies and books but it seems that one would simply be asking for trouble in this case?! She even has “devil” written in witch alphabet on the back of her neck

 

Evil Witch Doll
Evil Witch Doll
"Devil" inscrption
“Devil” inscription

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This doll was found in a haunted house where the family were tormented by the spirit. There is mention of a shadow man appearing to the family, heart attacks, broken necks and Moonlight Sonata playing itself on the radio. The stories alone are fodder for any horror story, why would someone want to purchase this doll? Unlike the dolls that bring luck or protection she only promises death and evil, yet she is intriguing.

What are the buyers of these items looking for? We all want to know is there something more out there than our physical plane and people are always searching for proof for the existence of the paranormal. Many of the items promise the buyer luck and protection, a lucky charm as such. Are the buyers being preyed upon by something darker than the items or are they a comfort to people who need or want to know that there is something out there after death? The subject is curious whether you believe in the validity of the items or not.
With the increase of haunted dolls on sale there is something driving the increasing demand. I’ll leave you with my last and the most disturbing of the dolls; “Shasta Toddler Baby”.  She is promoted as a reborn toddler baby with soft jointed limbs and even a beating heart, her red-purple eyes give me goosebumps! Her and her siblings can be “adopted” for a fee at http://haunteddollsforsale.com/Aj/shasta-toddler-baby/.
Shasta Toddler Baby
Shasta Toddler Baby

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sweet dreams!!!!

 

 

The House at the End of Time

house at the end of time

This Venezuelan film starts out as a jumpy atmospheric horror film and as the story develops it reveals a heart wrenching story line and a mystery. With great acting and an excellent story line I’d recommend this to anyone to watch, horror fans and non-horror fans alike. The only negative for me was the special effects aging makeup but it looks like it was all done on a pretty tight budget and doesn’t impact the storyline whatsoever. After a few minutes you forget all about the subtitles and it had me enthralled from start to finish. I even cried happy tears at the finale (an unusual occurrence for me!).  A must-see movie!

The Boy

 

09c94de7d1995882848a733fa8a9794ds_4My eyes flicker open slowly as I begin to come to my senses I’m sitting on a floor the ground pressing against me. The first thing I pick out is the dim light bulb above me sizzling on and off as whatever power source runs it struggles to keep it lit. I’m in a small room, the walls stained in grime, what were once white tiles like those on hospital walls or in an operating theatre are now brown and dirty shades of yellow like thick grease or tar. Some are missing or cracked and it looks as if they’ve been weathered by neglect and time.

I try to move my hands to my side but can’t. I feel a cold stabbing sensation around my wrists stabbing into me and realise I’m chained to the wall behind me by handcuffs or some type of steel bonds. I don’t panic like I normally would, for some reason I don’t seem to be worried, I slowly bring my eyes downwards and that’s when I notice the shape curled up in front of my feet. I can’t quite make it out in the dim light but I pick out clothes what looks like torn dirty jeans and a long sleeve red coloured shirt as I scan along it I can see hair. It’s a person…. no not a person a child curled up in foetal position motionless and facing away from me.

I try to open my mouth and call out but all I can hear is a strained mumble and not the words I try to say. I must be drugged I tell myself maybe that’s why I seem so calm they have me sedated maybe to keep me quiet. Suddenly the child thing in front of me twitches like the start of a seizure but not as wild. I watch as its’ back straightens and hands begin to claw outwards along the floor its’ fingers tapping the tiles like a spider scurrying off into the dark. It begins to moan, a sorrowful pained sound and it turns on its side on its stomach twitching unnaturally. Its hair covers its’ features long, black strands rubbing along the floor around its head and I can’t make out if it’s a girl or a boy. Its’ hands begin to touch along my legs and I feel its’ icy bony grip around my ankles as it pulls itself upwards and towards me.

The fear that up until now didn’t seem to exist kicks in like a shot of adrenaline directly into my veins. I feel my heart lurch forward as if trying to claw its’ way through my ribs and out of my skin to escape. I pull on my bonds and feel steel begin to cut into my skin. Suddenly I can hear my screams and I scream with all the air in my lungs. It grips harder now around my thighs and I can feel it’s skinny torso as it lies limply on top of me moving towards my face. I kick and pull and scream in complete terror, feeling warm wet liquid begin to drip from my wrists down along my forearm. I hear it gasping for air a struggled sound like the final breathes of a dying beast. It pulls itself up toward my face its’ dark hair blocking its’ features and brushing along my cheeks. The light in the room gives one last sizzle and goes out. I wake up.

I’m in my bed and can feel the sweat dripping down my forehead and my gown sticking damply to my skin. Light shines in the window to my left, a warming comforting sun and I begin to come back to reality hearing the noises of the hospital around me the beeping of the machines and pitter-patter of feet along the corridors. That’s the third time I have had dreams like that in the last week and in every one the sense of realness is terrifying, the smells, the noises, ever since the patient who had been next to me had passed away in the night.

I came here because of a major heart attack I had had while driving home from the office. My wife has always warned me of the dangers of stress from the workplace and living life on the go but I had always ignored her. After all I enjoyed it, I could never understand how people could spend time watching TV or reading a book, I always feel the need to move, to do something and when I don’t I feel anxious; that’s why I had applied to be the CEO of Aldromeda, a technology company in our city because I knew how hard the work was and how unrelenting the hours were. But nevertheless it had caught up with me and I had to be cut from my car with the jaws of life as I had fell unconscious and cut across into the dike at the edge of the motorway.

Paramedics mentioned another car crashing behind me as it tried to swerve out of the way to avoid me as we made our way towards the hospital in the ambulance. I couldn’t respond because of the excruciating pain in my chest. If you’ve ever had a cramp that forces you to move it’s like that by force multiplied by 1000, mixed with the feeling of razor blades being pushed into your heart you forget to breathe at times as all you can concentrate on in those seconds is the pain.

I had been in here a week recuperating when they wheeled in a small boy and placed him in the bed across from my own. He had his head bandaged from the crown of his skull down to just above his lips. Even his eyes were covered and I felt sorry staring at the poor guy as they positioned him in the bed attaching the drips and wires from the machine next to the bed to him. No parents came with him and I wondered where they were, shouldn’t they be with him or at least someone I thought to myself.

When the nurses left I tried to make conversation asking him what his name was and telling him that I’ll be his bed buddy for a few days hoping to comfort him or at least let him know that he wasn’t alone but he just lay there motionless, not even turning his head once the whole time or making a sound. I guessed that whatever had happened had deafened him or maybe be was still asleep due to the anesthetic they give you after an operation. I thought nothing of it and fell asleep.

When I woke up it was night and the lights were low in the room. I stretched my arms out yawning and turned to my left and gasped in fright. The boy was sitting on the edge of his bed motionless staring at me. I couldn’t see his eyes underneath the bandages but I could feel his eyes staring into mine ….if that makes any sense. I immediately jumped up out of the bed throwing my legs out and standing up I asked him if he was okay trying to keep my voice low not to startle him but he didn’t respond he just sat there not moving, God it didn’t even look like he was breathing!

I crept cautiously towards him trying not to scare or surprise him. I got close enough to reach out and touch his shoulder and as I did his hand darted up and grabbed my wrist. I yelled in shock and tried to pull my hand away but he held it in place his grip like a vice, cold and bony. I started to shout for the nurse to come and help as his head turned slowly towards me, slowly and mechanically like something from the Exorcist and at that I’m nearly sure I wet myself. His bandaged face stared directly into mine and I watched as his lips began to part curling upwards into a menacing and evil smile while simultaneously baring his teeth like a dog or a rabid animal. The nurses rushed in the door behind me and tried to loosen the boys grip all why I shouted for help trying my best to pull away but he wouldn’t let go until one of them withdrew a needle and pushed it into his neck. He loosened his grip and let go slumping lifelessly as the nurses picked him up and positioned him back onto his bed.

70c946e3bcf7825329e929574aa90b33s_24I tried to stay awake that night not wanting to sleep for fear that I would wake with him next to me but I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes open and eventually nodded off in the early hours of the morning the noises of the machines around me getting lower as I slipped away into sleep.

When I woke the next morning I turned to see where the boy was and found the bed next to me empty. At first I panicked scanning the room around to see if he was standing somewhere and embarrassingly enough I checked under my bed to see if he was lurking there but he wasn’t. The nurse came in an hour later with breakfast and I took the opportunity to ask her about the boy. She told me that he had went into cardiac arrest early in the morning and had died on the operating table, apparently there was no one to break the news to afterwards and they had had to phone relatives as his parents died after they crashed their car with the boy in the back seat the week before. I felt terrible for him and promised to try and find some information about him when I was well enough to leave. I thanked the nurse and ate my breakfast.

I have had horrible dreams since, one where I open my eyes and he’s at the bed below me but without his bandages and facing away from me, his head turns slowly but not his body and i hear the strain and snap of his neck as it rotates backwards and again I try to move but cant. I always wake before I see his face.

I hope to god this was the last , I might even request that the nurse gives me something to keep me awake tonight or try to pull an all-nighter watching DVDs on the TV in the ward. I feel my gown still clinging to me and try to pull it out from underneath me when I spot something. It looks like a small bruise underneath the gown. I slowly lift it up and my heart drops into my stomach. There are more bruises all purple and fresh along my legs from my ankle upwards and all are in the shape of small hands like a child’s. I scramble as I pull the robe up further finding them along my sides as well.

As I lift my head to call for help the lights around me dim and the noises of the hospital fade away I try to scream but I can’t. A shape appears in the doorway in front of my bed; small with black hair standing motionless. This time I can see part of his face. His lips curl upwards slowly into a menacing smile and he bares his teeth now sharp like those of a beast and the lights go out.

First Date Jitters

convent

Charlie O’Neill was going on his first date in almost two years. He felt a mixture of excitement and nerves swirling around in his stomach like the ingredients of a dodgy cocktail mixture. The audible noises coming from him were similar to a washing machine. He hoped this would calm down when his date Martine arrived.

Martine and Charlie had met at the Octoberfest beer festival in a local brewery through Charlie’s sister. On the night conversation had flowed seamlessly between them as did the kisses at the end of the night,  but that didn’t come as a surprise considering the potent beers they’d both gorged themselves on. They swapped numbers and he text her the next morning forgetting all the rules his friends told him existed after first meeting someone. She was happy to see he wasn’t playing silly games with her and accepted his gentle suggestion of lunch on Sunday afternoon.

So today was their proper first date. Charlie had a hazy memory of what Martine looked like but all he knew for definite that she was Spanish. He couldn’t remember exactly what they had discussed on the night and he regretted once again trying a pint of 12% beer towards the end of the night. Martine had actually been a bit less drunk than Charlie but had noticed that even in his drunken state that he was a perfect gentleman and that even though slightly scrawny he was quite attractive.

Charlie was waiting for five minutes outside the little gastropub on Sunday’s Well Avenue when a brown-eyed girl with even tanned skin and a beaming smile approached him. Now the memories of the first meeting flooded back to him. She smelt exactly like the first time they’d met; of coconut shampoo, coffee and toothpaste. She smelt wonderful to him even from a distance and he beamed back at her, more relaxed now. His stomach stopped its spin cycle and he felt the nerves ease away after a couple of minutes chat.

Martine was living in Blarney Street and Charlie in Shanakiel so lunch in the quaint little gastropub within walking distance was a spark of genius out of Charlie. They ordered a delicious bottle of white wine – which they agreed on immediately, a good early sign of compatibility. Nobody would have guessed by their easy comfortable way that they were practically strangers. Their main courses were as delicious as the wine but the highlight of the meal was dessert. A moist orange and cardamom cake served with homemade chocolate ice cream which they both ordered left them satiated. They sat for another hour and polished off the bottle of wine chattering animatedly with each other. At 6.30 pm they were politely asked to leave by the last-standing waiter waiting to close up for Sunday and enjoy his only evening off. They were oblivious to his annoyance so on all accounts the afternoon was a success.

Charlie was out to impress and after paying the bill asked her if she’d like to take a stroll up Shanakiel and make the most of the dry and crisp Autumn evening. Also being the first date,  he was likely to agree to anything to impress her! When Martine asked him could they investigate the old convent building he said yes nonchalantly despite a slightly sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hoped it didn’t start swirling again and make some gruesome noises that might disgust her.

His earliest memory of the convent was when his mother had threatened to send him there and he would be forced to stay with all the other unwanted children and spend his days scrubbing the floors of the convent with a toothbrush. What Charlie only found out in later years was that this was very close to reality for the women who’d been sent there. Their torture had only ended 20 years ago, by which time a lot of the women remembered it as their only home.

Martine had only been in Ireland a couple of months and didn’t know the harrowing history of the old building,  which was not only an old convent but also a Magdalene laundry. Martine needed to write a story for her weekly writing class, which she’d told him all about during their late lunch. Charlie hid his apprehension at investigating the same building that had caused many sleepless nights as a child, all for the sake of impressing Martine.

He took a few deep breaths as they walked up the steep hill towards the entrance to the convent. There was a huge steel gate there ever since someone had set fire to the old laundry building last Winter. So many people wanted to rid the area of the horrible memories and feelings the now derelict building held that finding the culprit was impossible. Charlie was hopeful that they wouldn’t get past the massive gate and get on with what had been a great evening so far.

Fate threw Charlie a curveball that evening however because the gate swung open a slight bit as they approached it as if the property was welcoming them. He was instantly suspicious, wary that a security guard or even worse a gang of hooligans might be responsible for this. Yet he ploughed on, the sick feeling growing in his stomach. He desperately tried to appear manly despite his gut feelings of slight dread.

Martine was ecstatic that the gate was open. “Yes we can get in!” At that point Charlie smiled inwardly feeling pleased. He did think it slightly strange however that her level of excitement was growing the closer they got to the house. “Who knows what other things excited her?” he pondered. By now they had reached the front door of the oppressing convent. He felt a sense of depression and anxiety building within him. There was no turning back now or he’d lose all her respect so they pushed in the heavy wooden door, despite the rot.

Now that they had entered the building a smell of talc, rot and damp accosted his nostrils. Martine didn’t seem to even notice. His hand brushed the corridor wall and he shuddered. It was dark in the hallway but he could feel a sticky substance on his hand. He wiped it off his pants grimacing. He was starting to think that maybe this making a first impression wasn’t worth it. Martine led them into the first room, her face barely visible except for her shiny white teeth. She still sounded visibly excited and happy, apparently oblivious to the depressing atmosphere and sickly smells.

The room they’d entered had dirty stained glass windows and ornate stone carvings on the walls of religious icons. “Got enough inspiration for your writing now?” he asked her. “This place is so atmospheric and ornate , it must have been really something in its day” she replied with a look of awe on her sweet tanned face. She was right of course , it had – a thing of true horror and secrecy. The room they’d entered had stained glass windows and ornate holy stone carvings on the walls; this must have been the prayer room.

They heard a huge bang come from one of the rooms down the hall. They jumped, slightly spooked and looked around them all the while staying silent to try to decipher the cause of the bang. They strained their ears and heard nothing for a few seconds. Was there a distant sound of music? They were both totally freaked out by this stage yet held to the spot in shock. The music got slightly louder. “Swan Lake?” Martine whispered. He had a vague memory of an old jewellery box belonging to his sister playing the same tune. It had the same stilted tinny sound as the music box had all those years ago.

“Martine, I think we should get out of here, there’s somebody else in here” he hissed, every thought of impressing her had long left him. They crept to the door of the musty room trying to make as little noise as possible. They were only a few steps from the door when the door creaked slightly inward and through the gap slowly rolled a filthy red ball. The both shrieked and grabbed for each other; beads of sweat broke out on Charlie’s forehead. Suddenly cries of laughter broke out in the hallway and Charlie raced out just in time to see three hooded teenagers racing out the main door. “Jesus! I knew there was somebody in there!” Charlie thought to himself.

He turned back to Martine and they both laughed slightly hysterically. He pulled her close to him for the first time since their drunken smooch at the beer festival and they shared a giddy nervous kiss.

“Plenty of inspiration here. Ready to explore a little more?” he joked. Martine however didn’t pick up his joking tone and gave a determined little smile back at him nodding in agreement. Although every fibre of his being struggled with staying in the house he didn’t want to disappoint her. Hoping to enjoy another intimate moment with her he tried to calm his quick-beating heart and took tight grip of her hand in his slightly sweaty one.

They headed towards the second room both slightly more relaxed knowing the cause of the disturbances. The next room was very dark, the large bay window covered by heavy dusty red velvet curtains with an overlay of cobwebs. There was a brown streak all along the side and Charlie thought he could smell a slight stench of faeces. They both wrinkled their noses in disgust. The room was empty except for an old style abacus on the grubby wooden floor.

Martine bent to pick it up to inspect it more closely. She hadn’t seen one of these since she was a little child, even then it had been an old toy of her mother’s. While Martine was still enthralled with the abacus, Charlie had gone to the corner of the room and was staring straight at the wall as if stuck in a trance. He muttered something unintelligible to Martine so she put the abacus back on the ground and called his name softly. He didn’t respond at all, perfectly still. She heard a noise from the ground of wood on metal and looked to see where the noise was coming from. One of the wooden beads on the abacus moved slowly and deliberate from one side to the other. She gasped in disbelief, stumbling across the room towards Charlie.

Charlie had moved slightly now and she saw something held in his hands. A faded black and white picture of a young plain woman grasping a toddler; neither were smiling. Charlie snapped out of his trance staring at Martine’s shocked and terrified visage. He felt groggy and stiff and was unsure how he’d made his way to the corner of the room.

“Charlie, are you ok?” she cried desperately. He nodded silently and looked at the picture in his hand confused. His hand was slightly shaking as he turned on his phone flashlight to look at the photo. Martine stood staring uncomfortably at him. He felt a wave of misery and desperation rolling over him. He flipped it over to show light rushed writing in pencil on the back. “Come and get us as soon as you can. After next week he’ll be taken from m” he read lowly aloud. It looked unfinished but even those few words sounded desperate and unhappy. Martine bit her lip trying not to cry. “Charlie, what happened here? This wasn’t a holy place?” she quizzed him slightly. She was clearly upset, her voice slightly angry and her native accent stronger suddenly.

Charlie stared at her face, she didn’t look half as pretty as earlier and he felt like he was staring at a complete stranger now, all  memories fading rapidly from his frazzled mind. He barely remembered their exit from the house and or the walk to her house on Blarney Street. Martine knew immediately he’d lost all interest in her. He didn’t attempt to hold her hand again and answered all her questions with one word answers so she’d stopped trying entirely. At her door he stepped back as if he were afraid to come near her so she ran inside and didn’t wait to wish him goodnight.

She went inside to the cosy living room where her housemates sat watching a silly reality TV show. She felt herself calm slightly and curled up on the couch with a sigh. “Another one bites the dust” she moaned to them, “and this one seemed so normal”. They comforted her with chocolate, wine and laughter like any good friends. She told them of the lovely time they’d had in the restaurant followed by a small stroll and exploring of a creepy old convent. She didn’t mention the abacus or the picture, trying to blank it out of her own mind completely. She regaled them with the tale of Charlie and his unorthodox behaviour. After two bottles of wine they’d decided that had Charlie obviously wanted more than a simple kiss in the dark convent and she was better off rid of him!

She woke up the next morning with a slightly pounding head and completely soaked in sweat. She’d been tossing and turning all night long but didn’t remember any of her dreams. She thought about Charlie on the odd occasion over the next couple of weeks and avoided his sister in work.  He never contacted her again so she assumed he was most likely seeing someone else and  tried to forget their brief encounter. Over three weeks after their Sunday date she arrived late as usual into the office on Monday morning looking slightly dishevelled and tired after a weekend spent partying. There was a very sombre air in the office. Something was very wrong. She slid into her chair and leant in to her work colleague at the next desk and whispered to her “What’s going on? Was somebody fired?” Judy whispered back to her, looking slightly ill.

“Cara O’Neill’s brother died last night.  They’re saying he was found starved to death and holding some old toy or something…. ” stuttering, “it’s just awful.”

Martine felt her stomach heave. She turned to her desk and projectile vomited all her over her computer keyboard. Bits of stinking half digested bagel flooded the keys. Her vision swam before her and she vomited again, she felt thick lumpy hot liquid drowning her shirt and she collapsed to the ground.  Judy bent down to help her up. She managed to drag her on her office chair but didn’t escape blotches of vomit on her own clothes.

Her vision cleared and she felt slightly better. Judy leaned over her looking very anxious. “I’m ok. I just need a minute” she managed to get out. She looked forward her and noticed something new pinned on to her little pink noticeboard. She leant closer; ignorant now of Judy and her desecrated rancid smelling desk. She pulled the sheet off the noticeboard. Except it wasn’t a note it was the photo from the convent. She slowly turned it over in her shaking hand. Now the plain woman in the picture and the toddler were smiling and a familiar man stood by their side – even in faded black and white she recognised Charlie’s face.

Martine dropped the picture as if it were on fire and fled out of the office. She booked a flight home that afternoon and packed as much as she could carry into her suitcase. She rang a taxi to the airport and tried to numb all thoughts with three glasses of wine in close succession in the airport bar. She never returned to Ireland and it was many months before she even gave another man a chance. She never wrote again – afraid that she might unleash the dark memories which she locked away in a dark crevice of her mind like the women who’d been left to rot in the convent by their families and loved ones.

The Corpse Bride,

Gothic bride