Witchy Doll

Growing up, I was never one for stuffed animals. I never really saw the point of dolls either. They seemed like boring toys that didn’t actually DO anything.

 

I always wanted to play with my brother’s toys. He had cool shit like Hot Wheels and LEGOs.

 

But I did have one doll that I loved. I don’t know where it came from. I think my mother gave it to me at some point when I was very young. The doll was cute but kind of scary (like most dolls).

 

She had painted on blue eyes and a red heart for a mouth. She had brown yarn hair. And she was dressed like some horrible 70s cult member. But I loved her for some reason. Her name was Rebecca.

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Sweet Rebecca, Hermetically sealed for eternity.

 

It’s weird that I can even remember her real name because I haven’t thought it in many many years. You see, Rebecca soon came to be known by another name.

 

My parents used to leave us all home alone. We were generally under the watch of my older sisters. But they were like some strange undersea creatures. Their bedroom was their natural habitat.

 

Their room was dark, messy, with things I didn’t understand in it. Scary things. Like bras, makeup, tampons. They were always on the phone, laughing about things that made no sense to me. There was music playing and weird smells in there. And, it was, of course, forbidden.

 

Seeing them out of their room and in the rest of the house was uncommon and unsettling. Like if you were walking down the street and you suddenly saw a giant squid floating towards you. It would probably take your brain a few seconds to make sense of what it was seeing.

 

On this day, we were indeed under my sisters’ indifferent care. My little sister had somehow been bribed into taking a bath, something she hated to do with a passion I found both surprising and confusing.

 

She got out of the tub, still wet. Rather than dry herself off with a towel, she grabbed Rebecca.

 

She rubbed Rebecca all over her naked body. All over.

 

I freaked out when I saw this. Rebecca was getting covered in her gross butt germs. Now she was contaminated. I had a meltdown as my mind descended into chaos.

 

What were we? Animals? Was this the fucking jungle? Who did that? And to my favorite doll! I lost my shit.

 

And what happened next was the inexplicable part. She began chasing me around the house, threatening to touch me with my once beloved doll. Trying to rub it all over MY body. She was shaking it at me and yelling “Witchy! Witchy! Witchy!”

 

The commotion we made caused my sisters to come out of their room. They saw what was going on and somehow immediately assessed the situation. My little sister turned to them with the contaminated Witchy Doll.

 

And she began chasing all of us around. Threatening to rub Rebecca all over us if we let her get too close.

 

And thus, Rebecca lost her old identity. And a new one was borne out of the smouldering embers of her past. Like a phoenix, reborn. She was now, and forever known as: The Witchy Doll.

My little sister used this bizarre ritual to keep us all in check for some time. Always recontaminating the doll and chasing after us. Yelling “Witchy! Witchy! Witchy!”

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