Haunted dolls live here. So you can’t.

What’s up, friends?

To all my ghouls and goblins out there, welcome to October! I decided to start the month off with a fright… anyone scared of dolls?

Built in 1873, this 2-bed, 1-bath property is registered as a "Heritage Home” with its city of Richmond Hill. Three generations have lived in this home… but they’re nowhere to be seen.

Walk inside to be greeted by… oh, a doll. Who put her there?

Actually, I’m not sure if someone put her there, or if she put HERSELF there.

Hey, so where’d the floor go?

And why is there no human-sized furniture in the living room?

…are there any humans living here? 

Kitchens are spaces meant for creating energy (food). That is why I must explain my theory for why that “grandma” doll is on the table, but the “younger” doll is looking at her: My personal conjecture is that the table doll gives the floor dolls the powers to roam the house. And that the old doll stays in the kitchen for (outdated) patriarchal reasons that tie back to when the dolls were manufactured. 

Although the doll perched on the bed is meant to be welcoming, I want to walk out right now. 

Friendly reminder: there is only one bathroom in this house. On the listing, this is the only photo of said bathroom. And the implications of this photograph are horrifying:

It’s a crammed space, there isn’t a shower curtain, and something about the contrast of the black faucet is sinister. With the stained glass window, at least there’s a piece of the original house nearby.

On second thought… it makes things worse. 

So this bedroom is… “their” bedroom? The shelves feel like vertical coffins, and I’m scared for the doll heads on top of the cabinet.

Given that both the back and front entryways are pseudo-sunrooms, they feel like extra barriers between this house and the outside world. It’s as if the satanic magic that keeps those dolls alive needs a layer of protection against the elements beyond the walls of the property.

Step outside for some fresh air, but still stay alert and be aware…

Once we travel past the paved ground, and through the dead grass of the lawn, we enter… The Twilight Zone!

Not really, but this forestry is reminding me of the scary trees that seemingly attacked Snow White (just before she found the Dwarfs’ home). 

Oh, and I didn’t forget to mention this shed -I just didn’t want to bring it up and awaken whatever evil spirits lives behind that decrepit door…

From above the property, the cars in the driveway give it an almost comical pop of color. It’s adding to the whole “uncanny valley” feeling of the home… which only reinforces my fears.

If these walls could talk, I’d plug my ears to avoid hearing the horrors that preceded me.

Sarah @Homes.tastrophes