Come Play With Us

Have you ever been to a bar with no booze?  

I did that.  Last weekend.  Crazy, right?

Instead of beer and liquor, they had dolls.  And while I do not actually have a pathological fear of dolls, I am working on it.

No, really.

This happened.

I was startled as I walked up to the building when I saw their glassy eyes peering out from behind the gate.

I knew it was going to be a booze-less day.  I'm usually fine with that.

It was Boyfriend's step-mom's father-in-law's (it's complicated) birthday party.  I only knew a half a dozen people and expected to spend the day feeling like a party-crasher, but I still thought I could handle it.

And then I saw them.

The infestation.

I tried to laugh at the doll in a cage.  "What did she do to get in there?" I laughed.  But I was uneasy.  They locked her up for a reason.

When I walked in to the place, I thought, "INTERESTING."  

I am not sure if I meant "interesting" in the "wow, this is a fascinating collection of memorabilia" way, or "interesting" in the "walked in on an episode of Hoarders" kind of way.

Either way, my first thought was to take some pictures.  So I could share.

Some of the dolls appeared to be scouting out the escape route.

The problem is that if you take lots of pictures, you end up looking at the things you're photographing more than you would have, and you have photographic proof that it actually existed. 

The fear and memories don't fade like they are supposed to.

This doll was out in the main hall.  She was particularly upsetting because she kept a photograph of her first victim in a frame on her lap.

Sure, I have always been a bit creeped out by toys.  As a child, I was both obsessed with obtaining them and fearful of their reprisals if I hurt their feelings.

I have always laughed a little bit at the people who told me they were afraid of dolls.

I am sorry.

I was being insensitive.

Please accept my apology.

I just didn't understand.

I honestly thought dolls were pretty and maybe a little bit misunderstood.

"You can't escape us, Leauxra. "

But I was wrong.

"There is nowhere to hide from us, Leauxra."

Dolls look almost human, but behind their eyes is nothing.  Dead.  Reflective. Waiting.  Wait... something?

"You can try to lock us up, cage us..."

You can figure it out if you are brave enough to stare deeply into a doll's eyes.

It's jealousy.

Jealousy that humans get to walk around and feel things, and all the dolls have is the hard rubber skin.  

They are jealous of our skin.  

They are jealous of our feelings.  They are jealous of our anima.  They are jealous of our souls.

 "...but we are many."

They do not age, they do not change.  They collect the secrets of little girls silly enough to confide in them.  Over the years, they take a piece here, a piece there, they build a strange patchwork soul for themselves.

They are patient. 

"...and we will never stop."

So yes.  I get it now.

Dolls are scary and really do want to eat your soul.

You've been warned.

"Shut up shut up just leave me alone!  I'm not scared of you!"

P.S.  Yes, I know I have a huge forehead.  And it's shiny.  Just shut up about my enormous melon, please.