The Doll House

In early July of 2005, my mom, sister and I moved into a new house in the country near Lake Simcoe. We had only one neighbour that lived on the left of us. On the right was a forest. Our neighbours, Pete and Sandra, were an elderly couple who loved children but never had their own. They immediately took a liking to my sister, Erika, who was only 6 at the time.

Erika would spend hours playing at Pete and Sandra's house with their dogs. My mother would occasionally go over too, leaving me home alone. I would always feel left out, as Sandra and Pete never talked to me, but they showered Erika with gifts.

One day, everything changed.

Pete and Sandra were found dead in their bed. Pete had died at the age of 78, and Sandra at 76. Erika was devastated. She cried and cried when she found out the news, and she cried her heart out at their funeral. At the will reading, Pete and Sandra had left only one thing to our family, and it was mainly for Erika. It was a doll house, complete with a mamma doll, and two little girl dolls. Erika would spend hours at a time playing with her doll house. She would only come out of her room to use the washroom and to eat dinner -which she occasionally skipped- and to take a shower. I began to get worried about Erika, her blond hair was starting to get darker and her eyes were becoming black. One night I snuck into Erika's room to check out this doll house. She was sleeping soundly in her bed. I sat down and looked at how my sister had left the doll house. I was shocked. One of the little girl dolls had a butcher knife from the kitchen in her hand and she was holding the knife over her head, preparing to stab the other little girl in bed. I looked to where the mamma doll was. She was laying on the couch with her head twisted off. I picked up the mamma doll, screwed on the head, and put her back on the couch. I stood up and looked at my sister. My heart stopped when I noticed Erika was sitting upright and looking at me. "Get out!" She said, but it wasn't her voice. It was scratchy and deep. It took a second until I was running out of Erika's room and into my mom's.
"Mom! Mom!" I said, waking her up. My mom looked at me and asked what was wrong. I told her the scene from the doll house, and how my sister had a different voice. I lead my mom to my sister's room. Erika was sleeping soundly, as if nothing had happened. I looked into the doll house and gasped. The little girl doll was sitting at the kitchen table with the other little girl as the mamma doll cooked Something. My mom sighed and told me to get to bed. The next morning I woke up and crept into my sisters room again. I nearly gagged at the scene. The dark haired little girl was stabbing the other little girl. But something wasn't right. Instead of that beautiful smile most dolls have, the dark haired little girl had an evil grin and bloodshot eyes. I looked up to Erika. She was asleep. I crept out of that room and downstairs where my mom was watching T.V. "Mom, I'm worried about Erika. She spends all her time playing with that doll house, it's not healthy." I told my mom. My mom said it was only a phase, and that she would return to normal soon. She also told me she had to run out for a moment, and to watch my sister.

As soon as mom left, Erika scared me. "Oooh, sis-ter!" She said in a sing-song voice. I was afraid, but I went upstairs anyways. Erika was sitting on her bed holding the doll that had lighter hair. She grinned evilly and ripped the dolls head off. I jumped back, but approached my sister. "Why don't you go outside and play?" I asked Erika. She threw the headless doll on the floor and stared at me with her black eyes. She started to laugh in that scratchy, deep voice so I took a step back. "What is wrong with you?!" I asked my sister. She laughed harder, then stopped suddenly. She stared at me with that evil, wicked grin. "Come here, sister." Erika said in that deep voice. I approached and she grabbed my wrists. She started cutting my wrists and arms with her long finger nails. "Stop!" I screamed, pulling away. Erika started laughing again. I felt the blood starting to come out of my wounds. "Your staying in here until you say sorry!" I left then, afraid as heck. I locked her bedroom door and went to the kitchen to clean myself up. When I was finished, Erika's bedroom door banged open and she slowly made her way down the stairs. "Sis-ter!" She said in a sing-song voice. I turned around and she was behind me. "Erika, you're scaring me!" I said, really scared. Erika laughed in that hideous voice. "Satan will rise and good will fall." Erika said in that voice. I stared at her, confused and scared. Suddenly, a knife that had been on the counter flew at me. I ran to the door, but it closed and locked. When I touched it, it burned my hand. I ran upstairs, and ducked in the nearest room -Erika's. "You can't hide." Erika said. I heard her walking up the stairs, then something clicked in my mind. Pete and Sandra were satanists, and somehow, they had possessed my sister. I grabbed the doll house and carried it to the window. My sister was in the threshold now. "What are you doing?" Erika asked. I threw the doll house out the window, and watched it shatter at the bottom of the house. "Fool!" Erika said, then a black smoke filled the room. Erika's hair was blonde again, and her eyes blue. The black smoke stopped and hovered in front of me, then got sucked into the dark haired doll. Erika ran to me, crying. I was crying to, scared as heck. I grabbed the doll and brought it to the living room. I threw it in the fire place, drowned it in fire starter and lit it. I threw the mamma doll and the remaining other doll in too. As the dolls burned, I felt as though the house had relaxed, and that something was gone that shouldn't have been here in the first place.

Now, one year later, we still live in that house. Mom never knew what happened that day, we just told her it was a phase. Erika then told me, when she was possessed, she was in a dark place. She could see what was going on, but she couldn't do anything to stop it. This story is completely true. If you don't believe me, come over to Orillia, Ontario and visit me. You'll see the scars on my arms that Erika put there one year ago.

Submitted by Veronica, Ontario, Canada