Halloween From Hell; My Friend Chuckie

Everyone has a phobia. You, politicians, teachers, bankers, that homeless guy who dances naked in front of your window, and myself. There is no shame in it, unless you are the homeless guy dancing naked in front of someone's window. That's just sick.

In light of phobias being everywhere, I thought I would write on some phobias of mine, as part of a mini-series. Then you can feast upon my shame and embarrassment like a fat guy in an all-you-can-eat buffet. And that is a lot of feasting, so perhaps you should unbutton your pants now. Yes, I don't care that that creepy naked guy is still outside your window. Just do it, and ignore him because he'll go away when he's done. I said ignore him. There now, that's better.

So, my first and foremost phobia is of dolls. No, not like Barbie dolls. I don't particularly like Barbie dolls, but they're alright. I actually had one, who even came with a briefcase and little papers and things for her to file, because Business Barbie was actually Secretary Barbie in disguise, but I didn't care because she was awesome. So Barbies are good. Porcelain dolls, however, ...they...how could anyone like them? I mean, those eyes, they pierce to the very soul, as if they know everything you've ever done in your life. Every single time you stole your sisters toys and hid them, every time you told your mom your homework was done and that was why you were mindlessly doodling your sister with horns and a pitchfork. They know. And they are coming for you.

Now, this may seem like an exaggeration about the evils of dolls. you clearly have never seen Chuckie when you were a very scared and innocent five-year-old on Halloween night and it's 7:30p.m. and the only way your dad will let you stay up in your pumpkin costume is if you watch a "fun movie about dolls". I thought it would be "fun" night watching movies with my dad. It. Wasn't. A. "Fun". Night. I still have nightmares about that demented little Hell freak, Chuckie. Even just having people mention his name makes me shudder. Not the fake kind either, the full body shaking shudder. If anyone mentions his name to me anytime soon I will hurt them. You were warned.

As if this weren't enough to make me absolutely terrified of those things, my sister added fuel to the flame of my fear. It was like she got a few cans of gasoline and added it to an already roaring bonfire. Because, like my dad, she thought it would be fun to do, since she wouldn't be the one having nightmares. God why? Why?

My sister, let's just call her "Lem", decided that it would be a good Halloween joke to sneak into my room and put some porcelain dolls around me as I sleep. No, "put" isn't what she did, she didn't just "put" them anywhere. She meticulously placed them around me, facing me with their unnatural, fixed stares. Those unblinking eyes that still seemed to manage to follow you anywhere you went in the room. Right next to me as I slept. Staring at my helpless body. Waiting for me to wake.

They would have been content to have me wake on my own, but Mela...I mean, "Lem" wanted to see my reaction. So she did what any evil older sister would have done. She whispered my name from under my bed. Softer, just enough to do what she knew it would do, and interrupt my sleep.
"Cassie." a little bit louder now. "Cassie, we want you. Come with us Cassie..." louder still. I murmured and rolled in my sleep, trying to tear away from her hold on my dreams. "Cassie...wake up. Come with us and plaaaay...plaaaay with ussssss...." she hissed aggressively as she pushed up, hard, on the bed.

I was torn from my dreams to face them. My mom's dolls. All in my bedroom. On my bed. Surrounding me. Surrounding me. At this point all I knew was that dolls were bad and that they tried to kill you. (Which I had tried explaining to my mom multiple times prior to the attack.)

I did what any rational thinking child would do. I ripped the comforter (ironic how little comfort it gave me) off of my trembling body, and bolted, hysterically shrieking that I had been attacked by dolls, as my sister came after, hysterically laughing that I had fallen for such a prank. Like I was stupid or something.

When my mom heard the whole story (which I only know because Me..."Lem" gloated about what she had done as she told it) she thought it was really mean, but she couldn't help but laugh. So "Lem" got off completely without punishment. And now I can't look at a doll without shuddering.

So, I've shared one of my phobias. Now it's your turn. Write about it, either in your blog (and leave me the link if you aren't Zach), or tell me in the comments. After all, talking about things like this helps others, right? By others I of course mean me. But you knew that.


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Three Days Grace - Scared
Nightmare Before Christmas - This Is Halloween
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