…and Elemental Spiders..
“…so where do you stand on haunted Dolls Hubert” someone once asked me.. “Mostly the head” I used to reply… {joke.. joke.. if any spirit energies latently attached to dolls are listening in} … For I will never disrespect a ‘believed to be haunted dolly’ and I will relate a tale which explains the why and where for…
Several years ago I was invited onto a paranormal night with a long established group of curious parapsychologists who were proper investigators converse to my voyeuristic wham bam “Is there anybody there” technique… They thought nothing of sitting silently in dark rooms all night for months on end, recording any little variation of temperature, any hydrometric hint of moisture droplets where none was expected.. any creak and knock of the buildings settlement.. then debate for weeks the most explainable cause of those odd anomalies.. stripping the bones of otherworldly acceptance bare of ethereal hope… but this was their A.G.M. ..the one night of their year they would let their hair down by hosting a public ghost hunt event… This particular years was held in a typical ‘cinema converted to bingo hall’ establishment.. {was nothing to write home about, this was being organised by a bunch of skeptics after all}.. but I was utterly amazed to find out that each member of the group.. had ownership of a different haunted doll.. (obtained by each and kept totally for observational research you understand).. but one of those dolls… {we will call her ‘Peggy’ }, had got slightly out of control.. to the extent that they had to keep her in a glass case with salt and pages from a book of Psalms and prayers surrounding her… (yes we are talking Annabelle effect here)!
I thought they were kidding, but as they went on to describe the effect she had on them, and the circumstances of how they had rescued a family household from her nefarious clutches.. the efficacy of her spirit power seemed to carry a modicum of belief! She was only a raggedy doll.. very similar to the Annabelle.. the reverence the group extended her though was bizarre cultist…
“Yes I could take a photograph but would have to ask her for permission.. ” They would only take her from her case in the company of at least three group members.. oh and you must pay her no malicious disrespect with thought or word ..at all… (I was almost peeing myself with mirth at this stage)..
So as I’ve indicated.. the nights ghost seek was not going well.. the reason for this was attributed to Peggy.. “she was frightening the residential spirits off…”, apparently.. “she did that every time they took her out to a haunted venue.. the decision was taken to free her from her glass cage and the events of the evening did take a peculiar turn for the worse then I must admit… Someone on the event had a spirit box turned on and all of a sudden a whole slew of swear words issued forth over it.. one nice, pleasant enough lady amongst us came in for a right tirade being declared ‘cow, witch, evil old bitch’… Peggy knew her from previous meetings we are informed!
The activity in the bingo hall was ‘eyes down’ for chaos after that.. until fearing spirit anarchy the group reconfined her in the purified case.. and you could almost feel the resident ghosts gasp a groan of relief.. they still stayed back out of the way though..!
So the event wound up around 2am.. and I set off for home, an hour’s drive at least.. indeed it was turned 3am when I drove down a deserted village road and still had five twisty miles before reaching home… That was when a small boy dressed in old fashioned garb darted in front of my car… He had run across the road from one row of Victorian houses to the opposite pavement.. I had slammed the brakes on and was looking to the left to see if I could spot him.. obviously I couldn’t.. he had vanished.. I knew he would have.. the lad looked totally out of sync with our time.. and this was the early hours in a village fast asleep.. not a run down cityscape where feral waifs run free. I had driven that road a thousand times and never seen a thing out of the ordinary there… before or since.
The short rest of the journey seemed to take ages.. but I eventually made it home. Woke up a few hours later with the dawn light.. stumbled into the bathroom…
and there in the basin.. literally filling the basin.. was a huge.. black, hairy spider.. slightly confused I thought “how the ruddy hell am I going to get that out?” Turned to rip a wad of toilet paper off the roll…. And the giant Spider was gone… Totally dissolved in a nano second….
Later that evening, the parapsychologist group leader rang, wanting my opinion on the events of the night preceding.. I thanked him warmly for the interesting entertainment.. mentioned my own diverting occurrences… expecting a response of disbelief.. “No”, he insisted.. “you were being tested out by Peggy.. that’s exactly how she works.. gets into your psyche, tries to find your darkest fear then she has you… if you’d run screaming from the ‘spider’ she’d have spent ages as the manifestation of a spider, haunting your dreams, your mind, feeding off your terror.. scuttling around plaguing your every living thought… because I wasn’t overly concerned by, and was just going to scoot the phantom arachnid out of the house, her hold over me was thwarted.. neither of us were decided about the ghostly child though..!
So fast forward a year.. and I get another invite to their next annual public ghost hunt A.G.M. again.. this time in an old school building.. and there again.. in her glass case with a blanket over her this time.. is Peggy.. out for her occasional exercise.. those of us in attendance that know her try not to think directional thoughts toward her… try to ignore the inevitable fact she’ll soon be out amongst us.. insidiously. Those that didn’t know her were highly amused by the situation.. a married couple in particular were highly derisive of the raggedy cloth toy.. we advised them.. told them to have a care.. we did all we could to amend their manners… Within a moment of the glass case being lifted off Peggy.. the raucous woman was clutching her head… nausea wracked her stomach.. groaning and moaning pitifully her husband could do nothing but support her out of the building.. announcing “she had probably just gone down with a migraine..” We knew better… When she was recovered enough to rejoin us, much later in the proceedings, she admitted that it felt like a pickaxe had being slammed through her head…and her brain and intestinal innards were being squeezed..
We other more forewarned ones looked at each other sagely and hoped the woman didn’t have an inherent fear of spiders… or any other dark phobia… And if anyone introduces me to their haunted doll now I greet it with warm caution and the greatest of respect….
Hubert Hobux 