My room in the basement was already a little eerie, a whole floor away from anyone else and with an exterior entrance that could allow anyone to break in possibly unbeknownst to my family.
I woke up in a panic one night, a sound had awoken me. I lay still, trying not to breathe and listening for the sound that had broken my sleep. Suddenly I heard it. A quiet, evil sounding laugh.
I closed my eyes tightly, telling myself I had imagined it. But I heard it again. An eerie childlike laugh that sounded very nearby. I convinced myself I was just half asleep, and was finally able to doze back off. When I woke the next morning it seemed like a dream, and I brushed it off.
Days later I was awoken again in the middle of the night by a loud crash in the room. I jumped awake, panicking and breathing heavily. I peered into the darkness, wondering what could have possibly made the sound. Suddenly I heard the laughter again, this time it seemed to be coming across the room. I listened closely. I heard another sound, even more bone chilling than the laughter. Footsteps. Small and quick, but very distinct. I jumped from my bed and flipped on the light switch.
As the light hit my eyes, I squinted and peered around the room. That's when I noticed what had made the sound that had woken me up. On my desk had sat a jar filled with pencils, and it had been tipped over. The pencils were strewn all over the desk. It was a heavy jar. It could not have fallen over without being touched. I grabbed the pillow from my bed and bolted out of my room and up the stairs. Something was happening in that room.
As I nestled into the couch outside my parents bedroom, I felt much safer and at ease. I began replaying the events of the past few nights and trying to come up with a logical explanation. But suddenly it hit me, the only variable factor that could have caused these things to happen.
Days prior I had invited my "boyfriend" over on New Year's Eve. Moments before he arrived I realized my Magic Attic Club doll "Rose" was sitting in plain sight in my room. I hastily tossed her under the bed so she wouldn't be seen. We rang in the New Year and I didn't give another thought to the doll under my bed.
The doll under my bed. Could it be possible?
The next day I found Rose lying underneath my bed. But something seemed odd. She was laying on her side, and almost seemed to be looking at me when I knelt down. I quickly removed her and placed her back on the shelf where she had previously lived.
I slept soundly that night, and every night after. As terrifying as it is to admit or believe, I don't find this to be a coincidence. Everyone has toys at some point in their lives that they imagine are alive. But what if they really are?