Whenever I Buy a Doll, This Happens to Me

Whenever I Buy a Doll, This Happens to Me

I don’t know if it’s a curse, bad luck, or something else entirely. But one thing’s for sure: whenever I buy a doll, strange things start happening.

At first, I thought I was imagining things. Dolls are supposed to be cute or collectible, not scary. But after years of collecting—porcelain, plush, wooden, plastic—the same eerie pattern keeps repeating. Each new doll I bring home seems to come with its own set of... problems.

The First Doll: A Flea Market Find

It all started about seven years ago. I was wandering through a flea market on a chilly autumn afternoon when I spotted her.

A delicate porcelain doll sitting in a dusty box, her blue eyes cracked with age and her dress yellowed from time. I was drawn to her fragile beauty and, without much thought, bought her for just five dollars.

That night, I placed her on a shelf in my bedroom. I didn’t expect anything to happen.

But then, around midnight, I woke up to soft footsteps padding down the hallway.

“Must be the house settling,” I told myself, trying to stay calm.

But the footsteps came closer.

I blinked and looked around. The doll was no longer on the shelf.

It was standing at the foot of my bed.

I froze.

How had she moved?

The next morning, I told my friends. They laughed it off, said I must have been half-asleep.

But I knew the truth.

The Second Doll: The Viral Labubu

A few years later, the Labubu craze hit. These cute little vinyl toys with wide grins and round heads were everywhere.

I bought one online—a limited edition black-and-gold Labubu.

It arrived on a rainy afternoon, wrapped carefully in tissue paper. At first, it was just another collectible on my shelf.

But soon... things got weird.

My phone started ringing at odd hours, but when I answered, there was nothing but silence.

Lights flickered around the house. Sometimes, when I looked at the Labubu, I swear its eyes were blinking.

One morning, I found a tiny folded note in its lap. It read:

• “Don’t leave me.”

I hadn’t written it. No one else had been in my apartment.

The Third Doll: The Wooden Whisperer

Last year, at a small street fair, I found a wooden doll. It was hand-carved with an unsettling smile and eyes that seemed too alive.

I brought it home reluctantly.

That night, I thought I heard whispers.

At first, I brushed it off as the wind.

But it grew louder.

One evening, I invited a friend over.

She sat on my couch, eyes wide.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

“Hear what?” I said.

“Whispers,” she replied. “Like someone saying your name.”

We spent the night with the lights on.

The Dolls Don’t Like Being Owned

I tried to get rid of the dolls.

I donated the porcelain one to a local thrift store.

I gave the Labubu to a coworker.

I left the wooden doll on the street.

But they always came back.

One morning, I woke up surrounded by all three dolls, arranged in a circle around me.

Their eyes seemed to watch every breath I took.

The wooden doll’s mouth was open just a bit wider than usual—almost like a grin.

Is It a Curse or Something Else?

Some nights, I wonder if I’m haunted.

Other nights, I think maybe the dolls themselves are alive and don’t want to be separated from me.

Maybe I’m the one trapped in this strange story.

Maybe I’m not the collector.

Maybe I’m the collected.

Living with the Dolls

Now, I’ve learned to live with them.

I talk to them sometimes.

I swear the Labubu nods.

The porcelain doll blinks on rare occasions.

The wooden one sometimes moves just enough to catch my eye.

I’m not sure if it’s my imagination or something else.

But one thing’s certain: every doll I buy, the strange things begin again.

So if you ever find yourself buying a doll, be careful.

Because for me... it’s never just a doll.