Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I played the HIDE N SEEK GAME. But I broke the Rules | Scary Stories

Episode Date: February 17, 2024

You'll never believe how it all started...         Story from lets-split-up Make sure to check out more of their work at u/lets-split-up   Cover Art from Nadine Oestreich       ��  Original Post: If an unknown location repeatedly appears on your GPS, DO NOT FOLLOW IT! : r/nosleep  Original YouTube link: I played the HIDE N SEEK GAME. But I broke the Rules           For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon Merch: lighthousehorror.com  Music: Lucas King - YouTube Myuu - YouTube  Incompetech  Darren Curtis Music - YouTube Thank you for listening to this scary story! If you enjoyed this new creepypasta story, please check out some of my other horror stories. We'll be uploading new episodes every week, featuring ghost stories, haunted encounters, mysteries, true stories, creepypasta, and anything supernatural and paranormal. Don't miss out on the thrill and suspense that await you in each episode!

So my roommate made up a game in which she sews together a creepy sock doll and pretends it's alive, a la elf on the shelf. And she asked me to join. I mean, would you play that game? Why not name the doll Chuckie while you're at it? Right, so I played it. And let me preface this by saying, last I checked, I was of sound mind, accepting my dubious choice of major philosophy. A degree that will allow me to think very deeply about the universe and my lack of employment in it. I am a scholar and a skeptic, and I wouldn't believe any of the account I'm about

to give if I hadn't seen the doll move myself. The doll? Or rather, whatever evil force is moving the doll, it's real. It's walking around my house. It may or may not have disappeared our hamster, who often escapes her cage anyway, so, I mean, this could all be a coincidence. But still, as of this moment, Binky is missing. So prank? Elaborate puppetry? Hallucinatory episode? I hate all of those options, but since I can't come up with any better explanation,

willing to help me science this thing? All right, well, let's jump right in. Here's what's going on. I, Plato, am a fourth-year philosophy student, A major that explains why I am still broke and single. I live in a house with three roommates, Karen, Binky the Hamster, and Kurt. It all started a few days ago with Karen's fab new idea to promote her channel. Karen is pursuing her degree in motivational makeup tutorials and clickbait, or as she calls it, marketing.

She frequently drags Binky and me into her ongoing quest for likes, share, and subscribers. Now, as much as I want to criticize the modern-day scramble for clicks, the hamster has a lot of followers. Anyway, Karen opened her proposal with, Hey, this year for Halloween, we should play the doll game. The doll game? I replied. Yeah, the doll game.

You know, it's like elf on the shelf. But you plan Halloween instead of Christmas, and you use a doll you make yourself. Huh, elf on the shelf. I'd rather play sty on the eye. You know, it's where I get a sty on the eye and I go to the doctor rather than having to play this game. And, okay, in my defense, it is hard to come up with catchy rhymes on the fly, speaking a witch. Okay, this game sounds up. You make it up.

Is this for your TikTok? I asked. No, she said, with huge doe eyes, lashes fluttering. I sighed I'd her. And it's called the doll game. Doesn't I need a catchy name that'll let people know right away what it is? You know, like elf on the shelf? Dall in the hall. She said. Folks, the brilliance that is Karen.

Yeah, sure, I guess for Halloween. I said, knowing we're in March, and I'd have a full seven months before my required participation. This is a bad habit of mine. Present Me often makes commitments that future in me regrets. Cue, Karen, swooping in with a dose of instant karma for present May. Oh my God, good. You'll do it? Sweet.

You know, we don't have to wait for Halloween. We can try it now and see how things go and do it again if it's popular. She said. And I felt sort of tricked. Uh, but fine. we were playing doll in the hall. Not that our apartment even has a hole, really. So apparently, this is a riff on some creepy game Karen found

that went viral circa 2006, because it's a Japanese horror game. I mean, of course it is. This translates more or less to hide and seek alone. In which you make a doll, stuff it with rice and a bit of hair or fingernails. Yeah, the horror flavor text. because handmade dolls aren't creepy enough, and then put it in a bathtub,

stab the doll with a sharp object, and tell it, you're it. Then you go and hide, count to 10, and the doll comes searching for you. Now, if it catches you, it kills you with whatever implement you stabbed it with. When, and you, well, I guess you're winning creepy doll, but you also lose because you spend hours making that doll whose only purpose is to kill you. And truly, do we blame the doll on this one? You created it, you brought it into this world, and then you stabbed it, you monster. Truly, a game where there are no winners, only sincere regrets. Fortunately, Karen's version, Dahl in the Hall,

it doesn't involve stabbing. Yay. Score one for lack of cruelty to dolls. Instead, in the days leading up to Halloween, you move the doll around, similar to the elf in the shelf. On Halloween, it comes to life for real

when the spirits inhabit it. Nothing about this could go wrong, surely, right? But we were playing in March, so in Karen's words, it probably won't come to life. Right. Great. Now, my general reluctance to play had nothing to do with fears of the doll actually coming to life. Oh, if only I knew then. I just figured it would be a pain in the butt to play along

for the camera every time Karen wanted to upload a new video tracking the movements of her homemade Franken doll and expecting me to be a willing actor. But, I mean, it's not like she had a lot of options. Binky was already the star of 80% of her content, and our other housemate, Kurt, well, was Kurt. So, doll in the hall. Sure, I said, let the games begin. Karen squealed and delighted that, and actually hugged me, which, okay, I'll admit my heart did palpitate a little bit, because, okay, I have a small crush on her.

And then she asked for a clipping of my hair or nails, and I immediately regretted every life choice I have ever made. Fingernail clippings? Gross, man. All right, a lock of hair it was. Now me, Binky, Karen, locks from each of us when the doll, sewn by Karen out of socks, looked what only can be described as the horrific love child of a demented sock monkey, and a junkie elf on the shelf fallen on really hard times. It had mismatched button eyes, sock arms

and legs, and a wire skeleton so that it could be extra terrifying." Karen said, It's not for scariness. It's so that it can be bent to different poses. Anyway, I vetoed rice as a filling material. I wasn't about to let her waste that much rice, nor was I willing to eat said rice after it had been mixed in with our hair clippings. So, she used cotton stuffing. Some of our hair went in with the cotton, but she used most of it to make these weird little pigtails sticking off the top of its head. Cute.

Once it was finished, we all sat around for a naming ceremony, which was really just an excuse for Karen to make a promotional video. I suggested cuddles. Karen wanted to call it Boo Boy. I think so she could call it Boo for short. Binky had the deciding vote, and no surprise he voted with Karen. Boo Boy it was. The game begins.

Boo Boy spent the next few days appearing and disappearing from various locations around the house. Karen generally played dumb, asking me in that same band. and be eyed way she always did when lying. Did you move, Boo Boy? I can't find him. Magnanimously, I played along. There was one day, though, where we really couldn't find him. I could tell, because Karen came to me, asking where he was with a sly look, apparently she thought I moved him and was getting more proactive about being in the game.

I wasn't. Now, I may have volunteered like a reluctant audience member pulled onto the stage for a magician's act, but I had no plans to cross the line from audience participant to magician's assistant. I've seen what they do to those assistants when they bring them in the boxes and bring out the saw. When I did my usual stick of, gosh, where could he be, Karen? And she realized I actually didn't know. She panicked.

And it turned out it was Kurt who had him. Now Kurt doesn't really interact with us, and he's not a student. As to what he does, Mafia hitman, caveman, method actor, head summoner for a cult bent on bringing a reign of supernatural terror into the world. I don't know. Pretty much nothing would surprise me at this point. He showed up with Boo Boy in hand, demanding. What the hell is this voodoo doll?

And I giggled nervously when he said that while Karen took out her phone to film. Kurt snapped at her to get that camera out of his face and warned that it's a bad idea to mess with black demon magic. And then he stormed off, telling us he wasn't going to be involved in the game and he wasn't responsible for whatever bad shit goes down. Now this was probably the most Kurt had spoken to either of us in a good six months, and I was a little concerned by this outburst. Not again, because of any fears of the supernatural, but because I prefer to keep the peace between

us. Also it is his house. Karen, for her part, was delighted by Kurt's overreaction, and she shut herself up in her room with Boo Boy to make another video about it. So far, so normal. But then, last week, things started getting weird. For example, on Monday, I was sitting on the couch, reading philosophy. No, I'm kidding.

I was on TikTok watching people ascend mountains of milk crates. I'm part of the problem, aren't I? Anyway, I was lost in videos of people tumbling from crate piles like inept mountain goats, and Karen was trying various filters on Binky. Binky with bunny ears? Binky with human teeth? Binky with Karen's face is weird. Anyway, suddenly Kurt's door just burst open. He throws Boo boy at us, his voice shaking with fury. I told you not to involve me in your voodoo shit. It's not funny. Next time either of you leaves

this piece of shit, dark man. magic thing in my room. I will rip it up and I will burn it." He slammed the door and Karen burst out laughing. Oh my God! She cried. Oh my God. I wish I had that on video. That was so good. Well played, Plato. That was awesome. Uh, it wasn't me. I said frowning. Yeah, sure it wasn't okay. Next time tell me

when you're going to do that so I can record it, okay?" Yeah, did you hear him? I don't think there's going to be in next time if you want Boo Boy to make it to the end of this game. Also, it wasn't me, I said. Sure it wasn't. She snickered and winked. Winking is something Karen does in her videos to try and look conspiratorial with the audience,

Being the subject of a wink, it made me think that possibly she was in on the whole thing, and she'd done it. Although, weird, that she wouldn't have her phone ready to record. So after that incident, Boo Boy would periodically vanish and reappear in places that neither Karen nor I could explain. I assumed it was her doing, and she, presumably, assumed it was me. Now, none of the places were that unusual. We'd find him sitting on the shelf in our rooms, or in a fridge, apparently raiding the meat drawer,

hidden under the bed with his arms propped under his chin so he could look out, or peeking up at us from a drawer that was mostly closed. He seemed especially prone to appearing around Binky's cage. But I assume that was just so Karen could get both Binky and Boo Boo Boo in her video. And then one day, Binky disappeared. Okay, okay, enough is enough, Karen said. In a tone that indicated she was genuinely upset, though at the time, I had no idea why. Where's Binky, huh?

I don't know, I replied. She's not in her cage? If she was in her cage, would I be asking? Maybe she escaped. Look, the top is off the cage and the bedding is a mess inside. It's obvious she was chased around by someone trying to grab her. Where did you put her? She asked.

Okay. I don't know why you're coming at me. Maybe Kurt let her out for some reason, alright? Look, it was not me. Kurt's out of town. He left yesterday, remember? her, Binky was still in her cage. I didn't remember.

Kurt leaving for a week or two to stretch was not unusual. I didn't bother to keep track of it. But Karen would not back down. She genuinely thought that I stole her hamster and possibly even did something to her. Why would I hurt Binky? I'm a vegetarian. I can't even watch movies where animals get hurt.

A horror movie where the cat yells or the dog runs out barking and then yelps in pain. I'm out. And I told her this. And Karen shouted, Okay, enough. So did you take her to liberate her then? Because you hate cages? You're being ridiculous, I told her.

Which wasn't my most diplomatic. But I was feeling defensive. I don't lie. I never lie. and I wouldn't liberate a domesticated hamster from what is honestly a pretty cushy life, even if Binky is an unwilling social media star. Like most influencers, she'd never make it in the wild. I pointed this out to Karen, but she was hysterical, worried about her binkie,

and retreated to her room crying. And I felt bad for a few moments in my attempt to defeat her. used her accusations with humor, I might have appeared to make light of the situation. In fact, I was very worried for Binky, too. I looked over at Binky's cage and froze. There were two button eyes looking out at me from the edge of the bookshelf beside the cage. Boo-boys mismatched eyes and little pigtails bore an expression that I would term naughty, mischievous, evil. I stared for a moment, and without taking my gaze off it, called,

Hey, Karen, you move Boo Boy? No response. If she found Boo Boy by the cage later, she'd definitely get upset, and she'd likely assume I put him there and was messing with her. I grabbed the doll. Bits of wood shaving clung to its sock arm. Frowning, I plucked off the shavings. In hindsight, this should have been a red flag roughly the size of Mars, the equivalent of the moment in a horror movie, when the camera pans to the killer doll sitting smiling with a missing dog's bloody collar and its porcelain fingers. the moment I usually nope out of any such film.

But as I've said before, I, a rational person, do not believe in ghost. I assumed that A, Kurt had set this up before he left to pay us back for pranking him that one time. Or B, Karen had set it up all for herself and was now engaged in an elaborate dramatization. All in service of the gods of social media fame. And if it weren't for what happened later that night, I would still assume this to be the most plausible explanation. Anyway, I had decided I'd had enough of Boo Boy. And the best thing to do to end this before her game got way out of hand was to destroy it. First steps.

I took Boo Boy into the kitchen and I snipped its arms off with scissors. I was intending to cut it up and toss it in the trash. Only while I was cutting. I began to feel a little remorse. After all, Karen's videos were important to her. She put a lot of time into this doll in the hall series. And if I destroyed the doll now, well, she wouldn't finish. least I could do was to destroy the video for her.

So while I considered her accusations about Binky, to be wildly overstepping, I retracted my behavior. I sewed back the arm and considered. What do I do with the doll then? And eventually I settled on hiding it. I'd agree to give it back if she stopped taking things too far and promised to just wrap up the game. So I hid the doll inside a lock box with my birth certificate, social security card, and other docks, a place Karen wouldn't dare search, and from which Boo Boy could not escape. I hit myself for this thought almost as soon as I had it.

Even so, I made sure the box was extra locked, and I tied a ribbon on it for good measure before shoving it in the closet. The key remained on me. Karen was still holed up in her room, and I could hear her making a video about Binky's disappearance and asking her followers for advice. This seemed to confirm my theory that the whole thing was an elaborate circus act for clicks. Presumably, she'd blame the doll later, and the show would go on. Great. Anyway, I buried myself in my readings, and I thought nothing more than that was.

of it that night. Eventually, I went to sleep. I woke in the dark, in the dead of night. At first I wasn't sure what it awoke in me. But when I clicked the light on, I frowned, because my closet door was open. A faint whisper, a rustling drifted to my ears from the carpeted floor just outside my door. Binky? Maybe Binky really had escaped. I got up, patting softly to the door, and I opened it. It was too dark in the living room for me to make out anything but dim shapes, but I

definitely caught the sound of scurrying just before I'd reached the door. It was like something sounded like it was darting away towards the sofa. I fumbled around for a moment along the wall, and then I flicked a switch. My heart dropped my toes. The doll, boo boy, was walking. It took two running steps along the sofa before, like Woody and Toy Story, worried about getting caught, it abruptly froze. froze and remained frozen as if it had been posed there. I just stared and the doll it seemed.

It stared back. Karen? I called, but there was no response. I guess she was sound asleep. I strode over to the doll and snatched it up, half expecting it to come to life and rive like a viper in my grip. But it was just a doll now. It's buttoned eyes, though.

They seem to be watching me. Oh, just my imagination, I told myself. I stepped to Karen's door and knocked, and when there was no response, opened it to soft snoring. Definitely asleep. There was no way she could have moved the doll. and dashed to her room and into bed without me seeing there had been no one in the living room

no one at all just the doll I flicked on Karen's light switch thoroughly spooked well what's going on Karen said she asked if I'd found a binkie I told her no and then I told her what I'd seen and her eyes grew wide with fear. No, no, of course not. With delight. And then she got out her phone to have me do a freaking interview. My co-star boo boy alongside me. But the walking? It was real. I swear to you, it was all real. And I need your help. Karen won't give up playing. in this game with Boo Boy and I. Is it crazy that I think this might be dangerous? I mean, what do I do? Resolving ethical conundrums is supposed to be one of the few things my philosophy degree is useful for, but philosophy doesn't really cover, you know, paranormal puppetry. After

footage of the doll walking through our apartment went viral, people responded with many sense of suggestions, which I do wish I'd followed. Instead, I followed my housemates, much less sensible suggestion, that we continue to play doll in the hall. All right. So before we dive into this tragedy comedy, an important update. We found Binky, skittish and shaken. But otherwise okay. So for those of you whose greatest concern during the previous post was entirely for the hamster, rest easy. There's no animal endangerment this time around. We sent her to stay with Karen's sister. Do I blame you for being more concerned for a hamster than for me and my fellow humans?

No, no, I do not. On this, you and I and Karen are in complete agreement. No one had better mess. with our little binkie poo. Not to be confused with Karen's other boo, the rag doll of nightmares. Now, on to the Big Bad Boo. The situation. It all started out like a wacky sitcom.

Cue title credits for Boo Boy and Me, in which the possessed sock doll wanders around the house, engaging in increasingly wacky hijinks, to which my housemate Karen is always oblivious, much to the exasperation of yours truly. I swear you really moved, I say, mugging for the camera. Insert laugh track here. Now, these sorts of scenarios are so played out, I can't even watch them on TV without groaning. Thus, I cannot even begin to express the frustration of having to play it out in real life. Nor can I count.

Many times I lay on the couch with my arm flung dramatically over my face, wondering if I'd lost my marbles, and thinking about my options. Contacting the Catholic Church, prayer, exorcism, skipping town and joining a commune in the woods. For example, the morning after my previous post, I was just grabbing more granola from the pantry when motion in my periphery caught my eye. Boo boy. It came strolling casually out of Karen's room.

Can you believe that? I exclaimed. As I dropped the granola and pointed, and Boo boy froze. Karen looked over and laughed. Good one, Plato. Insert laugh track here. This went on for literal days. And then on Sunday, I was in the middle of cleaning dishes when Karen's ear-splitting shriek launched me so high I practically hit the ceiling.

I dropped the plate into the sink, and I rushed into the living room. Karen stood with her hands over her mouth, and she pointed at Boo Boy, frozen in the middle of the floor mid-stride. He, he moved, she said. Uh, yeah, I replied. That's what I've been telling you. This thing's moving. It's freaky as shit. You know, we should probably destroy it.

What, no, she squeaked. He's our baby. Our what now? She snatched up the doll. Um, excuse me, this is your horror baby, not mine. I take no responsibility for this. It has your DNA, she replied, Your hair and binkies, all three of us.

Um, okay, first, I'm not sharing maternity rights with a hamster. And secondly, that thing, it's not a baby. Oh my God, you know what? I have to catch this on video. She said, Karen, do you not see how freaky this shit is? But she was already racing to get her phone. Q interview of me again, verifying what she observed. Boo boy, the monster-loved child of two humans and a hamster, strolling around our living room like some sort of discount chucking.

I was doing dishes when it happened, so I still had my apron on and my best scowl. It was all very domestic. And also very wrong. I was muttering about how I wished we'd just aborted my button-eyed co-star when Karen enthused. We should set up cameras with motion sensors. You like science, right? You know, like shouldn't we science it? Yes. I do like science.

like science, but I also like being alive. And I especially dislike, possessed dolls running around my home. Okay, didn't you base Boo Boy on some Japanese game where the doll tries to kill you? I snapped. Only if you stab it, she began. You haven't stabbed him, have you? Oh, shit. Wait, you stabbed our baby? I mean, not exactly. I guiltily explained about cutting its arm off and then sewing it back on. Oh, well, I'm sure Boo Boy understands.

Like if he were to snip off your arm, he'd probably sew it back. Karen began. I'm kidding. Besides, How's a dog gonna harm you? He doesn't even have fingers. He can't hold anything. Uh, yeah. He doesn't have muscles in those little sock legs of his either,

but seems to be ambulating pretty well. Come on. He hasn't behaved in any bad way, has he? She said, waving him at my face. This could be huge. Actual evidence of supernatural phenomenon. Like, you and I and Boo Boy could change the whole world. We'll be famous forever.

And look, if it gets dangerous, we'll destroy the doll, I promise. Just three, no, no, two days. We just need video. In the end, I agreed to her request. that we continue to allow Boo Boy to wander unrestricted around the house, because, and hear me out here, I'm an idiot. Now before I explain how everything went predictably and horribly awry, a bit more of my motives and methodologies. Once upon a time, I was contemplating a career in veterinary medicine, and before anyone questions why I made the terrible decision to switch to philosophy. No, it's not because I enjoy being poor. I've mentioned before, I think, my reaction

to the sounds of animals yelping in pain. It's why I noped out of the major and instead into one where I get to think about such profound questions as, what is pain? How intensely do animals feel pain. So, anyway, based on my dubious credentials of having finished one-tenth of a zoology major, I decided to begin our scientific inquiry with the question, is the doll moving, or being moved, that is, is it sentient, feeling, reasoning? And before we rush too far along this track. Whoa there, let's not put the carts before the horse. Okay, so I, a zoologist, know that even the lowliest life forms exhibit a reflexive response to pain. You or a fruit fly, you yank off one of your limbs and you rive. Boo boy does not seem to react to such stimuli.

So, it is likely that Boo Boy is not of its own volition moving, but rather it is being moved, and the manipulating force is invisible to the naked eye and thus likely unobservable on the visible light spectrum, making the pet cams I purchased unlikely to capture evidence of it. But we could at least document its manifestation through its manipulation of the Boo Boy and potentially other objects. It must have removed the ribbon from my lockbox, for example, and opened the box. Something Boo Boy could not have possibly done from the inside. I tried sharing my brilliant observations with Karen, but she said she'd leave the nerd stuff to me. Anyway, since I still possessed more common sense, I told her that I'm remembering

removing all the knives, scissors, and sharp objects from the house, you know, just in case. And then, with the cameras rolling, we began doll in the hall for science, capturing the perfect shot. Over the next couple days, Karen and I glimpsed Boo Boy, angling along in the corner of her eyes so often that it It became almost normal. We'd pitch his little figure trotting in our periphery and turn our heads just in time to see him freeze. It was like a kid playing red light green light if the kid was a tiny sack boy with mismatched button eyes.

And yet, even though he seemed to be almost constantly in motion, I counted an average of four times an hour. The cameras could never catch him. His movements were always too brief for the motion sensors. Or he moved just outside their range. Often overnight, the cameras got knocked over. One pet cam fell face down recording the floor, and another fell against the window and captured several riveting hours of the shadows of leaves.

You get the idea. Now I kept a log of Boo Boy's activities. Most of his movements occurred in the living room. Once in a while the bedrooms or between rooms. Once, we found him in Kurt's room, hiding under the pillow. Karen amusingly scolded him like a small child and told him not to go in there again. Or you're grounded, she said. Insert laugh track here.

It was a very good thing Kurt was out of town during our little little. little boo boy and me sitcom, because he likely would have flipped his lid. In fact, it was imperative we wrap up filming before he returned. But when yesterday afternoon, we surpassed the two-day mark and no footage by mutual consent, we continued the game. And then it happened. Karen was on her fallen late last night doing one of her shoots in her room and talking about binkie apparently her followers have been hankering for more hamster vids when she glimpsed boo boy and swiveled she actually videoed him walking three whole steps it was the perfect shot and it immediately started to go viral you may have noticed If you try to search for the video, it's gone now.

Almost as soon as it started racking up views, it got taken down, and she deleted her account. Well, more specifically, I deleted her account because of what happened next. So Kurt came home within about 20 minutes of Karen posting our video of the doll, boo boy, toddling around and predictably lost his shit. He threatened to kick both of us out unless Karen destroyed both the video and Boo Boy, who was suddenly nowhere to be found. Karen physically blocked Kurt from entering her room to search. Boliver, really, given not only is the man twice her size,

but we have an ongoing bet about whether he's ever buried anyone in his backyard. She shouted that she wouldn't take down the video, but would call the police if Kurt entered her room. and then slammed and locked the door. Kurt swore and kicked the sofa. Hey, come on, man, chill. I said, do not bark orders at me in my own house. You unleashed bad mojo man, he replied. Come on, man, it's just a doll. I began. Just a doll, huh? You are playing with fire here, and you don't even know. you're already burning. He said, he jammed his finger at me. Well, I'm not going to be collateral damage, man.

If I so much as catch a glimpse of that thing, toddling into my room, I will break its little legs, and then I will break your little legs, and then I will throw you both out on your asses onto the street to live in a box together, begging for money with your broken little legs. You get. me. Wow. Honestly, I had to admire the guy's eloquence. I mean, dollars to donuts, he'd really do it. But hey, this dude could sure turn a phrase, huh?

Anyway, I was too stressed to sleep back after that. Not only because Kurt's belligerent outburst had set my heart rate spiking, but because after three days of boo-boy mosing around in my periphery, his sudden absence, it was It was disconcerting. Not so much because I didn't know where he was in that moment, but because of the implications of his avoiding Kurt. You see, I'd been operating as if Boo Boy's occasional movements were like ball lightning. Ball lightning. It's so rare that for centuries it had existed only in anecdotal accounts, and even now, remains scientifically unproven. And while some accounts, especially early ones, have mistaken it for works of spirits or devils.

There's no consciousness directing where the ball lightning appears or disappears. It's not a spirit moving with intentionality. And so Boo Boys walking, it was like that in my mind, a unique phenomenon seemingly occurring at random around the house. But his dodgings of Kurt implied a degree of intelligence, sentience. And if the thing was capable of decision-making, not simply moving at random, but deliberately and with purpose, then what was its purpose? This is the question that suddenly, very deeply chilled me. And as I settled on the sofa, I began to wonder if, in my mad quest for science and Karens for clicks, maybe we'd gone too far. When I skimmed my documentation of Boo Boys' movements during Doll in the Hall, I found

that I'd complained about Kurt's caution as overreacting, but I put down Boo Boys walking all around our house as normal. Yeah, okay, my bad. My judgment may have been clouded. And it's possible we might have slightly lost touch with reality. Past bananas and gone full fruit salad. Boarded the crazy train man, commandeered it and conducted it right off the rails. But now that I was searching for evidence of intention, I found that there was nothing

in Boo Boy's movements to support that hypothesis. None. save for the one single obvious choice, never to move when directly observed by us, or by the cameras. Oh my God. The thing understands cameras. Kurt's warning came rushing back to me. You're playing with fire, and you don't even know you're already burning. And so, it was partly because I was too creeped out to sleep, partly to keep an eye on things, that I stayed out in the living room, turning off the lights so as not to bother my housemates, leaving only the soft glow of the bathroom nightlight.

I sat down on the sofa, adjusting the window shades to allow the moon's illumination to come in, and then I felt the pondering, bad mojo. So there I was, mulling over the mysteries of existence. And then I saw a shadow in my periphery. I raised my phone before I even really noticed what it was. It was no larger than a cat, but more like a monkey in its movements, toddling out across the carpet towards Kurt's door with a whisper of fabric, boo boy. I opened the camera app.

Boo Boy had its back to me, and I don't think it had noticed me. When I clicked, a blinding light flared just for an instant. Boo Boy's head turned. So in that moment of the flash, the doll's button eyes appeared to be staring right at me. As the light faded, I heard a quiet patter back towards Karen's bedroom. Her door clicked shut. Apparently, Karen was still awake, because a moment later her door opened and she slipped out. Did you see boo boy? I asked. She nodded.

I was fumbling with my phone, trying to open the image I'd taken. And as soon as I did, I froze. What is it? Karen asked. I don't... I don't know quite how to describe the picture. It'd be easier if I could post it. Only, I don't have the picture anymore for reasons that I'll explain. Honestly, I probably shouldn't even describe it to you.

Not to be a tease or anything, I will describe it. I didn't bolster myself with six cups of coffee just to not write about the pivotal moment. But I will save it for the end, and I'll put a warning it's coming. That way, if you want, and if you're wise, you can skip it. According to Karen, looking at the image was the mental equivalent of taking acid, like the beginnings of a bad trip, nausea, dizziness, hallucinations. For several moments afterward, everything in her periphery appeared to be crawling with snake-skin.

The best I can describe is that it looked wrong, and it made my brain itch and crawl. My heart hammered as if I just ingested caffeine straight into my veins. Every hair on my body stood on end, and the longer I looked, the less I could make sense of it. Through the sickening lurching of my mind, one rational thought came. My first hypothesis was correct. Boo boy was being moved, manipulated by a force that hadn't triggered the motion sensors, but caught in the flash. It's like it was taken by surprise, unable to camouflage itself.

Sudden terror struck me like a sucker punch to my gut, my nerves jangling and then tightening, like violin strings ready to snap on the next note. We were both still staring at the picture when Kurt's door slammed open. I can hear you two whispering. What the hell's going on? Karen and I just looked at him, like two children caught red-handed over a broken cookie jar. Karen started to tell him it was nothing, but I showed him the picture. Oh my God, he said, flinging one hand up to cover his picture. his face and the other to shove my phone away.

My God. Pretty sure he's not part of this, I said. Plato, can you be serious, please? begged Karen. I am serious. You need to burn that doll now, said Kurt. Okay, just wait, okay, wait, snapped Karen. We all started to talk at once.

once, but Karen shouted us both down, saying, Will you just listen? We have to do this the right way. If we just burn it, we might unleash whatever this, this thing is. We have to do what she says. That shut both of us up. Who the hell is she? demanded Kurt.

And for once, I was in agreement with him. Then flipped on all the living room lights, opened up all the messages on her phone, and introduced us. All aboard the crazy train. Karen's video had swiftly wrapped up thousands of views, including one by a woman who went by the handle of Psychic Death Lady One-two-three, a self-proclaimed expert in dark summonings. She'd messaged Karen and told her she must get rid of the doll before the possessions advance further, or the thing manipulating the doll would come for us.

Karen hadn't fully believed her, but had nonetheless been in the middle of listening to her instructions on how to perform a cleansing ritual when my flash had caught the picture. I had my doubts about this so-called spiritual expert, whose primary credential were beady eyes, an exaggerated British accent, and jeweled rings on every finger. But in a video call with Karen, she asked right off the bat about the game and who the players of our game were proving that she had at least some rudimentary knowledge of our situation. Or she at least knew how to Google it. Still, not like we were going to find a better paranormal puppetry expert on you.

Yelp. Psychic Death Lady 123 instructed us to begin by deleting all photographic and video evidence of the doll. Why? I asked. Q warnings about how the doll serves as a token to which the spirit could bind itself in order to manifest in the material realm. Supposedly, the spirit could use images as substitutes for the token.

if players were close enough in proximity to form a psychic link. But if we deleted everything, the spirit would have nothing to latch onto. The players, Karen, I, and Binky, yes, even the hamster, could then burn the doll in order to end the game and force the spirit back to the spectral realm. While Karen drove to her sister's house to pick up Binky, Kurt and I searched for Boo Boy, whom we found tucked into Karen's bed covers with his head on the pillow, as if he were sleeping like a little good boy.

Good grief. Less than an hour later, we gathered around the fire pit outside. From an iPad propped on a log, psychic Death Lady 123 guided us through assorted rituals involving various symbols and invocations, and what I later found out, was a $500 call. Apparently, there's an after-hours upcharge. Since Karen was holding Binky, the honor of closing out the game fell to me. Okay, friends, this has been fun, but we are now officially... Hurry up, Kurt interrupted. Right.

Okay, so, uh, thanks for playing doll in the hall. Bye, bye, boo boy. I said, tossing the rag doll into the flames. G.G. A horrific screech lit up the night then. The doll's limbs curled and turned black, and the little pigtails of hair made from my, Karen's and Binky's locks, sizzled and puffed into smoke.

All three of us stepped back from the flames and covered our eyes. And soon there was only ash. Game over. And there you have it, folks. It's been one heck of a wild ride. And I'm a day late updating because this post took so long to write. But we have officially concluded, Dahl in the Hall. I'll update again if any weird craziness happens.

But since we have obeyed, the undeniable expertise of psychic lady death one two three okay so update first off let's get one thing out of the way the sock doll itself has not come back his ashes have remained ashes his dust has remained dust so for those of you who were wagering on his return sorry the laws of entropy still apply and in this universe anyway combustion is generally irreversible, meaning doll in the hall, or at least the doll part of it, is officially concluded. So anyway, the days following the game's conclusion found us in a return to normalcy. Kurt was surly. Karen was in mourning. My channel, my channel, why'd you have to delete my whole channel? Gee, Karen, I don't know. Maybe because you some

a demon? And we'd all like to live to see another day. Anyway, life returned to status quo. And to be honest, I sometimes missed seeing glimpses of boo boy trotting along the corner of my eye. I know. I know. You don't have to remind me what was puppeting him. Believe me, I remember it. The figure. The demon. I still see it. And I remember something. And I remember something. psychic death lady, one, two, three's warning, images summon it. And I worry that as long as I remember it, there's a chance of boo boy. That is the demon that was puppeting it. Coming back.

Coming from me. I made the mistake of asking Kurt if he thought it was gone for good. And he gave me a look I will generously call displeased and stormed off. off without a word. A couple hours later, Karen and I each received an email from him, informing us that he will not be renewing our leases. Go figure. And while inconvenient, I don't entirely begrudge him this stance. I mean, Karen and I brought a freaking demon into his house, and it may or may not have been mosying towards his room to kill him when we caught it in a camera flash. So fair. It's fair. Anyway, final bit of back to normal news. Binky's back with us.

But Binky bit Karen. Now, a hamster biting is not exactly newsworthy. Binky is pretty mellow as far as your species goes, but does occasionally get in a mood, especially if Karen feeds are too late, or picks her up too much, or if Binky just, you know, is generally feeling bitey. Happens to the best of us. But after the bite, Karen yelped and then set her hands on the cage, staring down with such a wrathful expression. I stopped in my tracks. I was bringing coffee from the kitchen to the sofa in the living room.

I thought for a split second I might have to do something. And then Karen turned away without a sound. walked into her room and shut the door. Odd. Very odd. Under normal circumstances, I dismiss this interaction as Karen also being in a mood. But after the events of the past week, I was very vigilant for anything even slightly awry.

Karen's normal reaction to binkie biting is to yelp and then scold playfully, often with video. Guys, oh my gosh, Binky is being extra today. Binky, you want to say sorry? She never not reacts to something. Especially not to Binky. Star of 80% of her content and the primary source of clicks. Especially with Bubey gone now.

Concerned for her. I knocked on her door, and hearing no response, I knocked again. Finally, I opened the door, and Karen was sitting at the desk, just sitting, staring, doing nothing, staring at her mirror on the vanity, at her own face, as if she didn't recognize it. Uh, Karen? I said. Everything okay?

Her head snapped toward me. Her lips curved up, but it was a smile at her mouth only, almost as if the corner of her lips had been pulled up by invisible fingers. She seemed to struggle for words before saying, "'A. O'K.' Binky. Binky,' she said again. "'Yeah, yeah, sure, Binky.

She bit you, huh?' Everything A-OK, she replied. She grinned and raised her hand, making the A-OK sign with her thumb and forefinger. But this was clearly not A-O-K. She was either possessed by Boo Boy, or else this was another attempt to start up a new channel in which she herself became the main attraction and videoed her jumpy housemates in a scary prank. I noticed that she was, in fact, videoing me, which lent some credence to the idea, I'd wind up on whatever new channel she was making as some sort of sap that got caught up in her act.

It struck me as very cold that she'd do something like this, right after all that creepy stuff we went through. Though Karen was nothing, if not efficient, in her self-promotion. Okay, look, I'm tired. I began. Can you just cut the act and be normal for a bit? And also, turn off your phone. I don't want to be on your channel again, okay? Her smile vanished, and she nodded somberly.

Yeah, yeah, sure. I'm tired, too, okay? I narrowed my eyes at that. That sounded more normal, but not quite normal. I held out my hand. Can I borrow your phone? Yeah, sure. She picked up her phone and handed it to me, and then turned away and crawled into bed.

You're not getting up? I asked. I'm tired, she replied. Okay. I left her alone after that, but I brought her phone out to the living room and began madly searching through her accounts for any trace of videos or images I might have missed. when purging Boo Boy from our lives. Nothing. Was she just having an off day? On a hunch, I looked through my notes from when I was documenting all of Boo Boy's antics, and I noticed a trend that I neglected to mention in my previous post, where I basically simplified the data as he moves four times an hour. Which is true, on average. But at the beginning,

The first few times I glimpsed him move, it was considerably less than that. And by the end of the day, the day we ended the game. Boo Boy was an almost constant motion, walking every few minutes. Also, his motion got smoother over time. Now, I'm no psychic death lady one, two, three. But if I were to hazard a hypothesis about why his movements increased, in both frequency and dexterity, given what we now know about Boo Boy, not being able to animate himself, but rather being a puppet. I would have to say that in the beginning, the manipulating

force was struggling to get a handle on him, trying from, I don't know, the astral plane or whatever, to just get the basics down of making stuffed socks move. And as its control became more fine tuned, it became able to move its puppet longer, more often, and with more precision. But that's the rub, isn't it? Boo Boy never came to life. Boo boy was a puppet. In doll in the hall, who says the doll has to be made of socks? Doll in the hall.

I spent all afternoon thumbing through Karen's phone, searching for messages. But all look normal enough. Nevertheless, I shot a message off to Psychic Death Lady 123, asking what were the chances of Boo Boy's spirit coming back without any sort of image to latch onto? And if it did, what viable solutions were there? Burning the doll was one thing. Obviously we can burn my housemate. I was still scouring Karen's accounts for any clues as to what might be going on with her.

The late afternoon's sun was coming in through the curtains. Kurt had gone out early in the day and not come home yet. I considered whether I should discuss Karen's behavior with him when he came home, but opted not to. On the off chance he actually did have a day job as a mafia hitman or something. Never can't tell with that guy. My eyes were bleary from scrolling through sights on exorcisms, hauntings, and possessions. When motion in my periphery.

the periphery caught my eye, and I turned my head. Karen loomed over Binky's cage. My heart thudded. Hey, Karen, I called. And then I saw something in her hand. Karen? She was holding a small, furry fluff ball. I snatched her wrist, twisting, and she yelped and opened her fingers.

Binky dropped into the cage, squeaking and rolling around in her bedding. Hey, what the hell? cried Karen. What were you doing to Binky? I asked. I was holding her. Geez. The hell did you think I was doing? She snapped back. Now this was normal Karen. Or at least she looked and acted like normal Karen. Certainly, her flashing eyes and snarl were the Karen I knew. She was struggling, I said weekly. She needed to come out so I could clean her cage.

She doesn't always like being picked up. God, what the hell's wrong with you? She said. You were acting strange this morning. Oh my God, man. I'm tired. And you and Kurt destroyed my channel. I'm pissed off.

Can you just leave me alone? Come on, Binky. So I didn't really think I should let her take Binky. But the fact is, Binky's her hamster, not mine. In the moment, I didn't know what to do. Was she perfectly normal? And I was the crazy one? I wondered, while sitting there in the living room, her phone still in my pocket.

Her phone. She hadn't asked for her phone back in hours. because she was still in mourning, maybe? I waited, tense, pacing the living room. Fifteen minutes later, Karen emerged from her room with Binky's cage, freshly changed, and set it on the shelf. Binky was inside, fluffing up her wood-shaving bedding, and my heart pounded slowly with relief.

Karen was obviously still very pissed at me, for even suspecting that she'd hurt Binky. She didn't make eye contact with me and strode back into her room slamming the door. So I don't know what to do. I don't know if I arrange an exorcism for her, even though she's told me she's fine. Because I mean, isn't that exactly what a possessed person would say? I have never, when asked if I were acting under the influence of demonic possession said yes or maybe or almost definitely. So I'm aware this metric might need tweaking. I've also been checking my phone for any responses from Psychic Death Lady One Two-3.

And she finally responded a few minutes ago. Firstly, to tell me to just call her Marge. Note, she didn't actually claim this is her name, just that she prefers it to, Hey, psychic death lady. She also asked for more info, so I copied and sent her most of what I've written. She replied back almost immediately with more questions. How is Karen's behavior now? And I have to admit, Karen came out about ten minutes ago to microwave dinner, acting totally herself, and glared daggers at me when I inquired, How you feeling? Okay, so Karen's acting normal now.

Does that mean we're in the clear? No. Psychic Death Lady 123, aka Marge, replied back that with the doll, there were times when it went inanimate. The thing puppeteering it wasn't even there then. The same could be true for Karen. The times when the doll was inanimate are like the times when Karen is herself, this being more or less my deepest fear about the situation. I'm still sitting here trying to process it. Mind you, there's a part of me that still thinks, hopes, that this is all just Karen being Karen and messing with me for clicks or something. But of course, there's only one way to find out. One aspect of this whole experience that is

unalterably real and forever burned in my brain as evidence of the beyond. Is that picture? I asked if I should take a picture of her. Marge had said. No. Assume she is possessed. Do nothing, but put the hamster somewhere safe. I will be there tomorrow.

500 for examination, 1200 cleansing, 2,500 exorcism, or all three for 3,500. Wow, what a racket. Her in-person prices are sky high compared to Zoom. I'm pretty sure I'm being taken advantage of, and I almost wrote that back. But I weighed my options, ongoing paranoia for myself and Binky, and the possibility of an untimely, horrific death, or a one-time payment to a possible Huckster.

Okay. I said back, 3500, let's do it. Marge replied. Done. Send hamster away. Do nothing tonight. I'll be there at 2 p.m. I replied back.

I can't wait. My sarcasm was lost on Marge, resulting in an ensuing back and forth in which she asked why I couldn't wait and told me she could be here sooner for an additional 2K. And I tried to explain the definition of sarcasm. I think I just pissed her off. Anyway, she's on for tomorrow. And now that I've said this, I do feel a little better. I mean, I definitely can't afford that much.

probably going to have to wheedle Karen into helping with the cost, which is going to be a very awkward conversation. But hey, it could give her some great content for her channel. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. I can't think. I can't think. I'm having a panic attack. I shouldn't have made all those jokes. Do I leave them? Does it matter? I don't know what to do. Okay. Okay, okay, this is what happened.

I'm just going to tell you, I just found boo boy, not the doll, a drawing, a pencil sketch in Karen's notebook. I'm guessing she drew it after we already burned him because it says, boo boy, rip. She probably thought that a drawing, since it's not an exact replica like a photo, wouldn't count. God, Karen, how could you be so stupid? Okay, okay, I can't blame her. But here's my supposition, and I hope I'm wrong. Please let me be wrong.

See, Boo Boo was not just made from our socks, but also from clippings from our hair. Bits of us, and Karen herself stitched him together. And this is a bit me spitballing here, but I think the act of creating him, I'm of hand-making him is part of what bound the entity to us. The players. Marge said an image could be used by the spirit as a substitute for the token. Now, a drawing may have the exact details that a photograph has, but like the original Boo Boy, it's handmade.

Personal. This would make a drawing even more powerful as a substitute than a regular image. Oh my God. I can't. I just can't. It's a shame that Karen is so artistically talented. If it were me, we'd never have to worry about this because I can only draw stick figures. Any malevolent entity would be too embarrassed to use one of my kindergarten scrolls for possession. Okay, I have burned the picture. It's gone now. I'm just going to I'm gonna have to say this. I shouldn't have joke so much. I'm shaking. My hands are still shaking. With a drawing gone, you'd think I'd be able to calm myself down, but...

Come on, come on, you're smart. You can guess as much as I can. I probably could have pinned that picture up on the wall, couldn't I? I could have copied and pasted a thousand of them all over the house. I could try a boo boy myself in pen, ink or permanent marker, or if I wanted to be particularly Gothic and authentic about it, in my own blood, with bits of my hair pasted on for good measure. Heck, I could make an entirely new, boo boy. Boo boy 2.0, and this time give him teeth so he could be 500% more terrifying. It totally wouldn't matter.

None of it would matter. because the thing doesn't need boo boy anymore. It's already attached itself to its new puppet. Karen is the new doll in the hall. I, uh, excuse me, if this post lacks the levity of previous entries. I don't even know why I'm updating. What's the point? A question about what really is the central premise of my philosophy degree.

So you'd think? having spent so many hours pondering the meaning of it all, I might have come up with some answer. Loyal readers will remember that Psychic Deaf Lady 123, aka Marge, was scheduled for an appointment with us this afternoon. Unfortunately, she relayed to me that she had car trouble delaying her arrival to closer to 9 p.m. or even tomorrow. I'm not sure if a more punctual appointment, would have made a difference anyway, since it's hard to imagine some kooky, middle-aged huckster dealing with an actual demon. But who knows?

Maybe her broken alternator is the single event in the universe. Anyways, it's a bit too late now. Three hours ago, 5 p.m. Kurt was still away on some trip he left on a couple days ago. I needed some air, so I went out. I ended up going for a walk, wishing Kurt would arrive home because I was so anxious. I didn't want to come back inside to face whatever was Karen on my own. Maybe I was feeling some sort of premonition, but eventually it just got too cold out.

When I got back, the curtains were drawn and the blinds closed. I came into the living room and it was dark. Karen was standing right there. A shadow just standing in the dark room. Karen? Where's Binky? She demanded. I moved her.

Why? Binky's mine. How dare you touch her? You were acting strange. You still are, I said. I'm acting strange, huh? You're the one who took my phone. Keep sneaking around, and you stole my hamster.

Well, I had my sister bring her back while you were out on your little walk. She's in my room now, you psycho. And if you so much as set foot inside my room, Karen, I interrupted. No, do not Karen me. You've been acting like a lunatic all day. and yesterday and ever since that damn ceremony you haven't slept have done nothing but drink coffee and type on your laptop i just saw you pacing around back and forth outside in the dark like some kind of creeper

and as she yelled i realized she was right my behavior had been strange but also she was wrong my behavior was the behavior of someone frightened. And I took out my phone. She may have sounded normal, but something was off. And I snapped a picture of her. I didn't see the knife in her hand, I swear. In the dim, the flash went off automatically. Karen shrieked, throwing a hand up. And when I could see again, she was gone. And then I saw motion above. Karen was on the ceiling. Eyes rolled back in her head, mouth gaping, as if she just lost control of her jaw, like a puppet on which the hinge is loose. Her face was slack, and she moved two crawling steps above me on the ceiling like a spider, hair dangling. I caught only the briefest,

nightmarish glimpse before she dropped on me. And I screamed. I don't remember the next moments. Just that we struggled with her knife. And I swear, I didn't see her eyes flick around to me until it was too late. It all happened so fast. Somehow, I don't know. Somehow, shit.

For a second, she got this look in her eyes. Hey, she said, all confused at me. What are you? And then I stabbed her in the chest with a knife, and she made this sort of gasping sound. And I backed out from under her. Oh God, oh God, Karen.

She fell over then, and her body's still there, still on the floor, blood pooling underneath. staining the carpet. Now I look at her empty eyes, and all I can feel is a profound hollowness. I found gas cans in Kurt's garage.

Who would have funk it? Also, for what I'm about to do. I'm sorry, Kurt. You can keep my security deposit. You see, there's one more thing I have to do. well, two things if you count this video. I figured it out. I figured I'd post one more time, you know, wrap things up.

Let you know what happened at least. Let you know. So when you read about me in the news and you learn my real name, you'll know the truth. I have to end this game. I can't risk Marge or Kurt or the police. showing up here when I'm not myself, which is obviously where all this is leading. So I'm going to end the game by removing all the players.

I'm so sorry, Binky. I'm so sorry, Karen. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. She wanted to stop. After I'd set up the cameras and Boo Boy was walking around, She got nervous and she thought about ending in. And I wanted to get proof so badly.

Look, Karen, you yourself said, this could be the greatest discovery of all time. Let's just get some footage. The first footage ever of a supernatural occurrence. And on your channel, think about it. I convinced her to keep playing. I fought to keep going until I got the picture. I deleted the picture.

No one will ever see it now. Which means that no one will ever fall under possession by this, this thing. There'll never be any players but us. I'm taking care of everything. Karen, don't worry. Everything is going to be a-okay. All that's left is the light the match. And whatever I say next, it'll be my last words.

And I cannot think for the death of me of an appropriate phrase to go out on. I know. I know it's dumb. I have spent much of my life staring at the screen, trying to come up with some perfect final line. Plan your last words early, kids. This video is ready to go. and most of the links updated. The last ones I'll do once it's up. Shit.

At this point, I'm terrified. So I'm going to hurry up, and I'm just going to do this thing. I'm going to light it up. This experience has sucked, by the way. Zero out of 10. Would not play again.