The Clown Doll That Smiled When No One Was Looking
Tessa had always hated clowns.
So when her aunt gave her a clown doll for her birthday, she forced a smile—but felt a chill.
It was old.
Porcelain face. Painted red lips. Curly blue yarn for hair. A tiny red suit with gold buttons.
Its eyes were glassy. Too lifelike.
“I got him from an estate sale,” her aunt said. “The seller said it’s... special.”
Tessa didn’t ask what that meant.
She put it on a shelf in her room.
Far from her bed.
That night, she turned its face to the wall.
But in the morning…
It was facing her again.
She asked her mom.
“Probably fell during the night,” she said. “You moved it without realizing.”
Tessa nodded.
But she didn’t believe it.
Because the next night…
She heard it.
Laughter.
Soft.
From the corner of the room.
She turned on the light.
The doll hadn’t moved.
But the closet door was open.
And on the wall inside…
A red handprint.
She started locking the doll in her toy chest.
But every morning…
It was back on the shelf.
Facing her.
Smiling.
Then came the drawings.
She found them tucked into her backpack.
Scribbled in crayon.
Scenes of her sleeping…
With the doll standing at her bedside.
One even showed it holding a knife.
She tried to tell her teacher.
Tried to show the drawings.
But when she opened her bag—
They were gone.
Replaced with a single sheet of paper:
“I’m your best friend.”
Written in red crayon.
That night, she threw the doll in the trash outside.
Stomped on it. Buried it in a plastic bag.
She went to bed with the door locked.
Finally felt safe.
Until…
She woke up at 3:17 AM.
To soft giggling.
And the sound of something…
Tapping the window.
She turned.
The doll was outside.
On the windowsill.
Holding a crayon in its tiny hand.
Mouthing the words:
“Let me in.”
She screamed.
Her parents ran in.
By the time they looked…
Nothing was there.
They moved.
New house. New room. No dolls.
Tessa was safe.
Until one morning…
She opened her closet.
And there it was.
On the top shelf.
Smiling.
Holding a folded piece of paper:
“Miss me?”