Oma's House

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Psycho Terror
To this day, I fear porcelain dolls and clowns...

Submitted: March 30, 2016

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Submitted: March 30, 2016

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Sunday October 30, 1988

Dear Diary,

I have to get this out, and quick, before I turn all the way crazy. I pray last night’s events were a horrible nightmare.  I am too rational a kid to make this up, even in my own head. The weekend started out ok. Mom dropped us off after work, as usual every other weekend. We went to bingo Friday night in our matching knitted flare skirts of pink, yellow and blue. Oma made them herself and wearing them was not an option. They are matched with thick white stockings and silk pastel shirts. Completed with patent leather Mary Janes. We didn’t win but they had the really good chocolate cake that I like. We got in late so I went straight to bed. Saturday morning we went to Boscov’s to get our Halloween costumes. We also got pretzels and slushies. Niki spilled hers so she tried to take mine. I wouldn’t let her have it so she knocked mine over. She always takes my stuff, or ruins it. Oma just laughs. Niki gets away with murder because she is pretty and thin and has caramel skin and pretty hair. I am the complete opposite. Nappy headed, fat and dark. Nothing pretty about me. And Oma makes sure I know it. After Boscov’s we went to Olive Garden for lunch then headed back to Oma’s third story apartment. Niki and I made up, because we had to, and the rest of the night was pretty cool. We watched Enter the Dragon and had schnitzel and red cabbage and dumplings followed by apple strudel. Oma married Opa in Germany during Nam. All the old people at the Base in Ft. Dix called it Nam. Oma said she caught his attention at Oktober Fest in her bee hive and hot pants. She was a looker; still is. When he died, she and my mom and uncle moved to East Orange New Jersey where Oma perfected her soul food recipes. We knew it was fried chicken, German potato salad and collard greens with strawberry shortcake for dinner after the commissary on Sunday morning. Then back home with Mom. I’m getting lost in the food - no surprise! Niki has switched it up to calling me Fatty-boomba-latty. I hate that name. Anyway, back to Saturday night. After dinner and dessert was bed time. As usual, Niki slept in the back room with Oma and I slept by myself in the living room. I don’t care about being by myself – I’m always by myself at home anyway. At least at Oma’s, I can cut off the TV and get some peace while watching the woods out of the balcony window. I try really hard to get to sleep before the moon shines on the masks. My grandmother collects clown masks like an addiction. They are all pure white with cut out eyes and mouths like the ones in the olden dramas. They are each painted in some crazy carnival circus colors with ribbons dangling out the sides like long ears. They all smile. They always smile. They also glow at night and feed the dolls. And the dolls want my soul. I knew the moon would be bright but not full. The full moon was a couple of days ago. I usually fall asleep before it shines on the masks. I guess it was the excitement of my zombie costume or too much strudel, but I couldn’t fall asleep. At first it was kind of fun being up so late. The big L shaped couch started to the right of the front door and swung around toward the balcony. I liked to put my pillow in the bend so I could look out the sliding glass door to see the woods. The moon and sun come right in through the lace curtains and they make the woods either glow or burn. It’s so beautiful. The masks hang above me. They are the most petrifying pieces of art one can imagine. Shiny white faces with black evil smiles. They poked out the wall – like in 3D so their eyes and mouths cast shadows that made them black as the night sky. I focused on the real sky, always. Never look up. I screwed up last night and looked up. I could feel their glow and the wall started to curve toward me. As they got closer, their glow became bright enough to flood the entertainment stand holding the TV and the Dolls. My stomach began to bubble and my chest got tight. The Dolls were the worst. In addition to collecting creepy clown masks, Oma collected porcelain dolls from around the world. They were dressed in their native garb and had fat cheeks and black, beady eyes. They stand from the metal posts stuck in their backs. I have wanted to smash them every time I had to carefully dust those evil soul stealers. Their eyes followed me by day and I could feel them at night, slowly sucking my essence. I keep telling them that that’s why I’m sick all the time. That’s why I usually close my eyes real tight and quick and face the couch ready for sleep. Why did I have to be up? My heart began to race as I felt myself be crowded in by the masks. The closer they got, the more their glow covered the Dolls and made them glow. I could feel the masks’ need; desire to make the Dolls as bright as possible. That was their power. It was something wicked. I been scared of the masks and the Dolls forever, but since Oma got more masks and filled all the walls above the couch, they got way creepier. Their glow was so bright I could see it through my knitted blanket. They were coming! I knew the Dolls would attack soon. I could feel their evil. I couldn’t hold it anymore – I screamed bloody murder! I screamed and hollered and wailed so loud I made my vocal chords sore. Oma and Niki came running out of the room to see what the hell was going on. I told them about the glow and the wall curve and the Dolls and…my sister laughed. Of course they all reset to make me look nuts. She called me a baby and said maybe the Dolls just wanted to sleep with me because I’m such a big baby. She is such a bitch! Oma chuckled too and spit on my forehead before they returned to the back room. The head spit is some German-Romani-Gypsy protection from evil spirits. I used to hate it so much; especially in public. I loved it last night. It made me feel safe.

Everything looked normal after my sis and grandma went to bed. I moved my head to the opposite side of the couch so I could keep an eye on the clown masks but buried my face in the cushions, praying for sleep. My mind was spinning with an escape plan so hard I didn’t notice the glow. The couch was a gray, purple and white plaid. It is so comfy, you sink into it. I felt safe. It wasn’t until the pale Geisha dropped that I snapped out of my safe trance. I wish I could have just gone to sleep and let them do what they do without me knowing. That pale faced Geisha Doll reached back and snapped off her metal stand and got up. She got up! On wobbly stiff arms, she hoisted herself up and old school zombie walked toward the couch. Toward me! Her beady eyes fixed on her target. Next was the Norwegian blonde. Then, the Nigerian princess. They were face-planting one by one off the entertainment center. The ones on the bottom shelf; the Victorian woman, the red-headed German milk maid, the Japanese fisherman and the porcelain clown; snapped their metal stands while standing and slinked onto the floor. They were dropping like flies, and they were awake! Their eyes had a red glow behind them and their sweet smirks turned into evil grins. Thirsty, evil grins. Each had their beady eyes locked on me and they marched with focus. They were on a mission for my soul. When their stiff legs caused them to trip, they kindly got back up to continue. They were coming for me. I was so focused on the craziness of the Dolls; I didn’t notice that the wall was almost touching my feet. The small L shape of the couch seemed to disappear under the glow of the clown masks. The masks above me curved in toward my face and hung there, like they wanted a kiss. Their black eyes had developed an eerie crimson glow behind them and their mouths opened wider and wider as they got ever near. Did they want me too?! There was no bottom, no end to the depressing darkness that was their orifices. No way out. There was no way out of the eyes. Once I started staring, I was staring at all of them-at once. I was transfixed. Their mouths opened wider as if they wanted to swallow me whole. As bright as their faces were, that’s how dark their eyes and mouths were. They wanted my soul. They have been taking my soul while I sleep but needed me to be awake to really get it. I could feel it. The Dolls were the final piece. I used to dream about them sucking my soul. Last night, I got my proof. I could feel their hunger to feed on me. It felt familiar, like they’ve been doing it. I knew it! I was finally able to let out a groan as loud as I could. I tossed the blanket off but was stopped by the pale Geisha. She was climbing up the couch and headed right for me. By now, the Chinese boy, the soldier boy and the Ethiopian king were snapping off their metal bases. The Nigerian princess and the Norwegian blonde were behind the pale Geisha, climbing up the couch. Their eyes glowed red and they wobbled with the determination of dying animals. You know how they will still try to run when the hyena is eating their butts out; that’s how they looked.  Even when the Dolls fell on those wobbly legs, they got up and kept at it. This is it! I’m toast! No more me! I buried my face in the couch and cried and shook and cried and shook. This was it, the end. I felt too weak to fight, to even scream. The glow was eating me alive. I was paralyzed. Lucky for me, Oma had to go to the bathroom. She must have heard my sobs because she came over and slapped me out of it. I told her what was going on, what had been going on for years. Of course, the Dolls and walls and masks had already reset. She muttered something in German; spit on my head again, crossed us both and ended with connecting our third eyes. I begged her to let me sleep in the room with them. I pleaded and even offered to sleep on the floor. I don’t know why I couldn’t. She went back to bed and told me I would get through it. I’d be ok no matter what. I don’t know what that means, but I don’t like it. The moon was getting higher in the sky so it didn’t make the masks so bright. I sat up all night with the TV on low. I hope the artificial light bothered them as much as it did me. They were at rest for now-maybe because of the protection or maybe because of the lack of moon light-either way, I didn’t care. I know they aren’t done. I know they will try again. They won’t stop until they get my soul. They got a little more last night. I can feel it. Oma knows it. I have always felt it. They are not done. Help!

 

 


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