I hate dolls.
I despise their faces.
With frozen expressions and dead eyes.
That seem to watch your every move.
But the fact that they’re so human-like is what irks me the most.
I wanted to explain to my daughter my deep hatred for dolls.
And why she wasn’t going to receive a new doll this Christmas.
She reminded me of my younger self in many ways.
A girly girl.
And stubborn as hell.
When I was around her age, my parents and I traveled to Hokkaido, Japan mainly for my
dad’s business.
It was our first family vacation in a while and they bought me several toys
But one in particular caught my attention the moment I saw it.
One day, we visited a temple.
We admired the statues, architecture, and its tranquility.
But it was also the home of a haunted doll called Okiku.
My father told us that a temple was a place of worship.
Which is exactly the feeling that overcame me as soon as I laid eyes on that doll.
I needed it.
I was sweating when we left the monastery.
While the monks were praying, I grabbed it and slipped it inside my mother's backpack.
It was my first time stealing anything, but I couldn’t control myself.
One second I was just staring at the doll, and the next, I was holding it.
As soon as we got to our hotel, I took the doll out of my mother's backpack.
They were shocked to see the doll and asked me why I stole it.
My mother said that we should return it.
I begged them not to take the doll away from me.
My father convinced my mother that he would just pay for it.
And moments later, he got off the phone.
He said that the monks refused the payment and that they said karma will bring the doll
back to the temple Nobody knew what that meant, but as far as
I was concerned, I was happy because I could keep the doll.
I gave my father a big hug and started playing with it.
The beautiful doll looked very traditional in design, standing at about 16 inches, made
of porcelain, and dressed in a kimono with shoulder-length hair.
Its jet black hair looked and felt just like mine.
I spent most of the time brushing it.
There was never a time that Okiku wasn’t by my side.
We also slept in the same bed and that was the deepest sleep I’ve ever had.
But one night, when my mother was turning off the lights in the room, I asked her to
leave the lamplight on.
That evening I watched my first horror movie, Ringu and I was creeped out.
As she left the room, the light shined on Okiku's face.
For a moment there, I thought I saw the doll grinning at me.
I ignored it.
I decided to just turn off the light and closed my eyes.
I remember waking up around 3am and Okiku wasn’t beside me.
I was too lazy to stand up so I just fell back asleep thinking that it was just a bad
dream.
I was relieved that the doll was in my bed when I woke up the following morning.
Although, I noticed that something was different.
Her hair had grown a few inches longer.
Furthermore, the doll was damp.
I double-checked my pajamas to make sure I hadn't wet the bed, but they were dry.
The pillow the doll was on was wet as well.
When I got up and looked for the source, I noticed that there was a trail of water coming
from the bathroom.
I was really confused.
I got out of bed and checked the bathroom.
I found my mom lying on the floor.
I was worried as I thought she was dead but it turned out she was just unconscious.
She woke up and said she slipped and her head hit the ground.
I was relieved to find out that my mother was okay.
My father brought her to the hospital for a checkup due to some swelling.
And Okiku and I were left alone in the hotel for a few hours.
When my parents were away, I watched tv with the doll beside me.
After a few minutes, the TV kept changing channels as if someone was pressing the remote
repeatedly.
Somehow, it kept going back to the creepy horror movie
I looked for the remote and it was under Okiku.
Her weight must have pressed the button, I thought, and then turned off the TV.
But then I overheard strange laughter in the room.
I had no idea where it was coming from.
The tiny laughter was terrifying so I embraced Okiku.
But realized it was coming from her.
She smiled, showing off her porcelain baby teeth.
I had never noticed her smile like that before.
I dropped the doll and left the room as fast as I could.
I waited in the hotel lobby for my parents When they returned, they asked me why I was
in the lobby and I was hesitant to admit the strange things about Okiku.
I was so scared of the doll that I asked my dad to hide it in my closet.
I was surprised that he did so without question.
I learned after the incident that my mom and dad were also suspicious of the doll.
They also noticed her hair growing.
Mom said that she also vaguely remembered seeing the doll in the bathroom before her
accident.
However, we were all shocked when it would show up in our bed, on the couch, all over
the hotel room My dad had enough and decided to bring it
outside and put it in the dumpster.
He did not leave until he saw the garbage collected.
We were all shocked when the doll reappeared on our couch again that night.
We were all so scared that we decided to lock the doll inside one of the rooms while we
all slept together in the other room.
My dad said that he would return the doll to the temple first thing in the morning.
Not long after we fell asleep, I woke up to the sound of scratching outside our door.
I woke up my mom who was beside me but she was fast asleep, and wouldn’t wake up despite
me shaking her.
I looked at my dad on the other side of the bed, but he was snoring.
Maybe the stress took a toll on them.
I sat up and listened closely.
That’s when I heard the voice of a little girl calling me by my name and telling me
to open the door.
I got out of bed and walked towards the door.
I looked at my parents once more.
But as if in a trance, I kept walking until I was in front of it.
Once more, I heard the voice tell me to open the door.
I trembled at the thought, yet, I was forced to follow.
I raised my right arm toward the door knob.
I was hearing an evil laughter on the other side of the door along with the continuous
voice of the child telling me to Do it.
As I was about to turn the door knob a hand held my arm down.
When I looked up, it was my father.
He cursed whatever was ruining our family vacation and threatened to burn the Okiku
doll if the haunting did not stop.
My dad’s voice was loud enough to wake up my mom.
She asked what was happening when a huge thump shocked us all.
It is as if someone kicked our door from the other side.
My father had enough.
He took a pair of scissors.
He opened the door, grabbed the doll, and cut off her hair, which was now at her knees.
The doll screamed and tried to kick him, but to no avail.
As soon as he did this, her body went limp.
Since the sun was about to rise, we all headed back to the monastery.
When the monks let us in, they took the okiku, brushed her hair, and put her back in her
shrine.
My father was embarrassed and apologized for the misunderstanding.
They quickly forgave him and that’s when we learned the history of the doll.
That it’s actually named after its previous owner.
A little girl from back in 1918.
A young man purchased a doll for his little sister.
She was obsessed with the doll and it never left her sight.
Unfortunately, the little girl passed away a year later due to contracting yellow fever.
While dying in bed and struggling to breathe, she held her doll extra tight for comfort.
The girl was only three years old when she passed.
The family wanted to bury the doll with the little girl, but couldn’t.
Over the years, the family noticed that the doll’s hair grew.
And slowly, they too were haunted by the doll.
They believed their daughter’s soul was trapped inside the doll.
Eventually they came to terms with it.
But ended up moving.
They didn’t want the doll far from the daughter’s grave so they asked the temple if they could
take care of it.
And they happily took it under their wing, groomed her regularly, and even sent her hair
for testing.
And yes, her hair is real human hair.
When I learned about this, I was so traumatized that when we returned home, I immediately
threw all my dolls away and vowed to never have another one.
But fast forward to now, my daughter of course doesn’t understand.
As she opened her present from me on Christmas morning, she was very disappointed to see
I got her an iPad.
She started crying immediately and said I was the worst mother ever.
But just as she was throwing a fit on the floor, she spotted a wrapped up gift tucked
away in the corner of the room.
She ran to it and I was confused, I hadn’t noticed it before.
She saw that it was for her and tore it open.
She beamed with joy and started jumping up and down and laughing.
Except her laugh sounded different… or eerily familiar.
When she pulled it out of the box, I started screaming.
Okiku had returned.