Original image by Anna Bauer, Creative Commons, http://tinyurl.com/nbt9ar5.
The other day, when I was wasting time in the Giant Black Hole Time Suck that is Pinterest (GAWDILOVEPINTEREST!), I came across a series of creative writing prompts. I’m always on the hunt for these because honestly, sometimes it’s crazy freaking difficult to think of new things to write here. Yeah, I’m a writer, it’s my job, I ought to be good at this, yadda, yadda, yadda. Truth bomb: sometimes the stuff between my ears goes to mush and the simple act of trying to string words into conherent sentences becomes an exercise in futility. Writing prompts (sometimes) help with that.
Here is one of the prompts:
Close your eyes. Remember the place you were so afraid. Describe it.
My sister had something to say in the comments of this pin:
“Your bedroom at the Brockway house. The doll that hung on the wall by your closet…scariest doll ever! It used to creep the crap out of me because when my bed was against the south wall I could look straight into your room and it would just be staring straight at me….ughhh {{shiver}}….I still get chills thinking about it. Mom and her crazy doll fascination.”
Here’s the thing: I have no memory of this doll. None. No matter how hard I wrack my brain, I can’t picture this doll, can’t remember it, can’t bring up any memories. But I’ve hated dolls my entire life – they’ve always scared me. And growing up I had repetitive nightmares about a Chucky-esque doll that did really terrible things to my family and our pets…
Maybe it’s a good thing I’ve blocked the memory of this doll.
Do you and your siblings share mismatched memories like this? Do dolls scare you the way they scare me? What are some of your scariest memories?
Myndi Shafer 