Before I get to the question: “Casper: Murder or Staged Suicide?”, (it was in fact both) let me introduce you to THE DOLL. Given we are fast-tracking the “holidays” with the first being Halloween ( Trick or Treat Day, All Souls Day, Hide your Virgin Daughters in the Basement Day, Don’t Go Down into the Basement! Day), it behooves me to once again travel to the early, formative years of yours truly.
I do not claim to be among the thousands afflicted with “Dollclowniculitis” however, having said this, I admit to feeling a bit uneasy in the presence of certain dolls or clowns or any toy for that matter with facial features exceeding a few inches. Big eyes or mouths? Definite avoidence. The origins of this unease? Christmas. The time of year 6 and 7 year olds are in their glory.
My parents were nothing if sincere in their efforts to provide the best gifts for this Girlie. The standouts were great, memorable. And will go down in childhood memory history. There was/is one standout gift. It maintains notariety to this very day. Transcending a generation. Stories have been passed down….about THE DOLL. Before the letters were capitalized. (Thanks Sis. Your comment in the last post made me realize that necessity. LOL)
It was no ordinary doll. It was a dancing, kid/life size, slip your feet under hers (if you dare) 4 foot doll. Good size for a 6 year old. Big blue eyes that followed you no matter what part of the room you were in. It’s plastic face with it’s knowing
smirk smile, all yellow “hair” flowing, it was a dancing doll (from hell). It had little elastics on the bottom of it’s feet so you could slip your own through the elastics and voila! THE DOLL’S feet were on top of your own and you could dance….walk ….. RUN…..!
What happened? I grew up. Became aware. Now, besides monsters in closets and under beds, I had this to contend with. The novelty of THE DOLL wore off and in time became just another part of my collection of stuffed animals (so I tried to convince myself). Would that it was only a stuffed rabbit or bear or pig.
I had a chair in my room. Come bedtime, that was where the bulk of my collection landed, the ones that didn’t stay on the bed with me. Getting ready for bed, I would always place THE DOLL in the chair first. With a variety of stuffed animals sitting in her lap. And then I draped something over her head. You know. To cover her face. So she couldn’t see me. So I couldn’t see her….looking at me, staring at me.
My nephew and niece are adults. They were told the story of THE DOLL while growing up. (No, I don’t know why) They have witnessed THE DOLL, been in it’s presence. They accepted that it is and ever shall be – (awful and frightening). Both (my nephew and niece) have children of their own now. Young ones. Will/should the story be passed down to another generation? Is there a lesson to be learned? I cannot say.
Christmas is fast approaching. Perhaps it’s time to pass along this vintage gift to the youngest girl child of the family…… to sit in a chair in her room. Ah…., nothing says family like keeping tradition alive in the holidays……
[EDITOR’S NOTE: PIC NOT AVAILABLE – THE DOLL IS AWOL! REPEAT…..BE ON ALERT! “THE DOLL IS AWOL”]