So, we spent Thanksgiving weekend at Scope’s parents’ house where there’s this—this—hey, wait a minute…. Have I ever bothered to describe Scope’s parents’ house to you before? Hmm?….
No?
Oh. Huh. Well, lemme try to paint a mental picture of it for you: it’s simultaneously an antique hunter’s heaven, a garage sale guru’s jungle gym, an eBay excavator’s bouncy house, and a thrift store surfer’s wicked wild wave. How’s that for summing it up? ;-)
The house is bursting full (FULL) of old collections. We’re talking dolls, buttons, skeleton keys, pins, photographs, figurines, books, plates, linens, artwork, and all kinds of other antique-ish goodies and treasures. You could spend a week exploring in there and still not see it all, I swear! It’s really quite something.
The doll collection sits posed around a chair on the recreation room floor near the couch where my daughter sleeps when we are staying there. Gwen has outgrown dolls, of course, but she doesn’t mind sharing the room with them.
Except for this one: 
I’m told his name is “Little Brother.” He looks perfectly innocent and harmless, right? Absolutely. Yet for some truly mysterious, inexplicable reason he frightens the living heck out of Gwen. She actually has panic attacks when she sees him. And there’s no use throwing a blanket over him or turning his back to the room or anything like that, no, no, no, because just knowing he is there is enough to freak Gwen out.
We’re talking about a 14 year old girl here. A 14 year old girl whose room at home is full of skeleton figurines and black bats hanging from the damn ceiling! So, I’m having a little trouble seeing what is so terrifying about a baby doll.
Aren’t you?
I mean…. it’s not like he watches you, unblinking, in the shadows with a sinister stare…. 
It’s not like his depraved eyes follow you across the room as he plots his evil plans…. 
It’s not like he lingers closer…. and closer, licking his vile lips while you change your clothes…. 
It’s not like he has a terrifying temper and an axe to grind…. 
It’s not like he climbs soundlessly into your bed and leans over you, maliciously smirking while you sleep and startles you awake when you feel his foul breath on your face…. 
It’s not like his unholy hand lunges out and grabs you as you scream and struggle to get away…. 
It’s not like he has a perverse taste for human flesh and the last thing you’ll ever see is Satan reflected in his eyes…. 
Nope. Nothing like that. He’s just a baby doll. Sweet dreams, Blogaritaville.
:-P
© Coracabana
13 comments:
UGH. I effing hate dolls. I like horror movies, but I've never seen Magic or that movie about the ventriloquist lady who comes back from the dead. Dolls and dummies just scare the living shit out of me.
Yep I'm with Gwen on this one. That's a baby of the undead. :)
Baby dolls and clowns: 2 items that you should never put in a kid's room. Or mine.
A very, very well written and interesting blog.
that IS one creepy doll!! I don't blame Gwen one bit! I'm sure that doll was the original Chucky! LOL!
I can just picture you taking all those photos of this doll with Scope's parents watching over you. LOL. Glad you found a way to amuse yourself.
I think I've figured out what scares the crap out of Gwen. It's the black eyeliner! What baby wears EYELINER!
Especially one called 'Little Brother'???
@ Callista: I soooooooo took those pictures while no-one else was around. There's no way I was going to have Scope's mom catching me holding her baby doll up to the light in a weird way to make him look all shadowy and sinister. Uh-uh.
@ JJ: Perhaps his name should be Adam Lambert? ;-)
My brother brother (who is now 40) carried that doll around EVERYWHERE when he was 2,3,4. "Brother" was with him all the time.
And my parents were going to estate sales and antique stores all through my youth. While that's not the house I grew up in, that's the STUFF I grew up with.
Add me to the list of Gwens who are entirely wigged out by "Brother". *shudder*
@ Eric, that explains a lot! LOL ;)
That doll is truly creepy.
Cora, I found you from your comments on Candy's Daily Dandy blog, and I must say I am going to start following your blog partly for selfish and sentimental reasons.
BECAUSE...my grandmother, Fannie Joyce, used to send me Christmas cards with a crisp $5 bill inside every year...and (God bless her 3rd-grade-educated-heart) she could never spell my name right. She always spelled it 'Cora' instead of 'Corey'.
I can't wait to read what you have to write about next!
Oh, and by the way, don't get me started on eBay...I may have to join a 12-step program to get me off that site! SO many bargains, so little time.
That's quite possibly the creepiest shit I've ever seen !
Sounds like a great house, do they offer tours?
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