This happened in the early 2000s in Ypsilanti, Michigan. I was about 9 years old and my family had just moved into a new house. One day we were driving past a house with boxes of junk outside on the curb. I told my mom to stop the car because I saw something "cool" and she did.
My mom walked with me as I quickly ran up to the box and noticed a bright red object. It was a vintage doll, probably from the 1960s. The doll had short brown hair and a red dress with big eyes. My mom told me to put it back, but I wanted to keeping it. I listened, however, and put the doll back and slowly walked away.
I ended up going back and grabbing the doll because something wouldn't let me walk away without it. I thought it was "special" and a reason I wanted it so much.
I had the doll for years and I had it perched on top of my dresser beside my bed, yet I would always have an uneasy feeling. I was never sure why and I always had the doll facing the opposite direction of my bed. I would wake up with the doll staring at me with its big, smudged, black eyes. It creeped me out, but I thought to myself that my sisters were probably playing with it while I was sleeping or something.
That wasn't the case. The doll would always end up looking at me, even when I turned it around to the wall. It'd be turned slightly toward me after I walked out and back into the room again. Still, I brushed it off as me being stressed about other stuff and hallucinating.
One time when my friends were over for Halloween, they said the doll creeped them out, and one even asked if I could put it away somewhere. I laughed and decided to place it in my dresser. After I did that, we continued talking about something else and heard a faint little knocking sound.
We ignored it, thinking something was hitting the side of the dresser and making noise, but after the fifth time hearing it, we realized it came from inside the dresser! Our eyes widened and I got an immediate adrenaline rush. I kept saying to her, "No, it's not the doll. It's my dresser. It's broken." But there was no explanation for it at all.
The knocking didn't stop for a while until I prayed aloud. A few years later, when I was moving again, I finally decided to let go of the doll and threw it away. I think those people threw it away also -- for a reason.
