Banished to the Linen Closet

[Julie411me]

I hated her. 

 

She had ratty blonde hair, brittle skin, stiff fingers and too-round, unblinking eyes that gave her an evil, zombie-like appearance.  Even her gait was zombie like.  She walked around my house, stiff-legged and expressionless.  She always seemed to be mocking me and just turning up everywhere, like a bad penny.  Or should I say a bad omen?  Perhaps worst of all, being roughly my height, she was always wearing my clothes without my permission.  She scared me and I wanted nothing to do with her.  And, if memory serves me correctly, that is why my mother kept her confined to our linen closet for many, many years.

 

My sister's Patty Play Pal doll was the star of many nightmares as well as daytime frights.  I would beg my big sister not to play with her.  "No, no!"  I would squeal.   The sight of that doll would send me running for the safety of my hideout behind the green vinyl rocking chair.  "Keep that doll away from me!"

 

My sister, always a fan of things that were slightly creepy, probably enjoyed giving me a fright and keeping me in my place with her "pal."  However, even she admits being somewhat creeped-out by Patty. 

 

Shortly after my sister, Karen, received her as a Christmas gift, it was discovered that the skin tone of her arms did not match the skin tone of her body.  Ew!  My mother wrote to Mattel and complained.  With no thought of what this would do to two little girls, ripping open a package that arrived in the mail, Mattel promptly shipped out a package that contained two severed arms.  They included instructions on how to rip Patty's arms out of her body at the socket and wrench the new arms into her hollow body.  EW AGAIN! 

 

Thankfully, the severity of this emotional trauma has erased this memory from my mind.  However, my sister still remembers it clearly.  "I thought that was pretty creepy that we could just rip her arms off of her and put some new ones on her." she recalls.  She was also haunted by the hard plastic legs that formed a large, unnatural and uncomfortable looking V if you tried to force her to sit down.  This was probably why she was mostly propped in corners.  She was so life-like (to us) that looking at her in contorted positions made us very uneasy.

 

Finally, after too many sleepless nights, my mother removed her from the corner of our bedroom and placed her into the linen closet so the family could get some sleep.  She was, at last, no longer a permanent fixture in my mind.  She no longer stared at me as I tried to fall asleep each night.  And I no longer had to worry about her raiding my dresser drawers and whatever else she did, of which I had yet to discover evidence, while I slept.

 

However, I dreaded walking by the linen closet and always made sure the door was properly latched when I passed.  There was no use letting her out, after all the time it took my mom to finally get her in there! 

 

As I grew older, I would be sent to the linen closet now and then to put away a stack of clean, folded towels or to retrieve the vacuum cleaner (which was stored dangerously close to the doll).  When I opened the dark, cavernous closet, I would see the shadowy figure in the corner as I fumbled, nervously for the string that hung from the ceiling light fixture.  I was always in a hurry to get that light on so that I could confirm the doll was stationary and, hopefully, still in the same location. 

 

My heart skipped a beat each and every time my eyes met her blank stare.  More than once I retreated from the closet before completing my task.  "I hate that doll." I would tell my mother. "She can see me!  She can see me!"  I was grateful when my mother turned the doll, nose to the corner, so I didn't have to see her face.  Her tangle of synthetic hair still bothered me, but I figured as long as she couldn't see who opened the door, she wouldn't know it was me and would behave herself.  Well, I hoped.

 

The years passed and the doll never did attack me.  But I have to admit, well into my teens, I made it a point to get in and out of that linen closet quickly.  She always did give me the creeps.

 

Recently, I asked my sister about the doll.  I wondered if she still had it.  A lover of dolls, I figured she had rescued it from the linen closet and taken it to her own home.  Unfortunately, (?) my sister was too late.   When our mother passed away, our father eased his pain by ridding the house of memories in the form of clutter.  The doll was no longer in the closet when my sister looked.  Patty was put out with the trash.

 

Or was she? 

 

 

 

[cjaw1018]

Feb. 11, 2009 at 4:28 PM

[Julie411me]

Feb. 11, 2009 at 4:34 PM

AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!

(Original Poster)

[cjaw1018]

Feb. 11, 2009 at 4:37 PM

Is that her?

[gracie1220]

Feb. 11, 2009 at 8:48 PM

OMG, thats Denises' doll except she had short blonde matted hair.   I think Denise may have cut her hair really short, I use to catch her with the scissors.   The doll wore her clothes and shoes.    I think she wanted a sister, lol.  

[Sandy1220]

Feb. 12, 2009 at 12:36 AM

I am dying laughing over the severed arms that were delivered in a box!! 

[jspy72]

Feb. 12, 2009 at 8:53 AM

My daughter has one of those "just like me" Barbies. It is tall and if FREAKS me out too. Blah.

[TeeB]

Feb. 12, 2009 at 10:15 AM

oh my goodness I had a doll that freaked me out as a child to her eyes would move soooo creepy!

[Momtocccd]

Feb. 12, 2009 at 12:40 PM

Most dolls creep me out. ::Shudder::

[MythicMMM]

Feb. 12, 2009 at 1:49 PM

same here Momtocccd.

[RanaAurora]

Feb. 12, 2009 at 2:56 PM

I voted life-size dolls, but it's more... it's life-LIKE dolls.  The "Reborn" babies creep me the fuck out.