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Do You Believe In Ghosts? How About Haunted Dollhouses?
A true paranormal story
Once upon a time on Trash Thursday, I found a Fisher-Price Victorian dollhouse at the curb in my neighborhood. I didn’t know the owner of the house but figured someone living there had outgrown the toy. My children have outgrown that stage, too. But I haven’t. And my granddaughter likes dollhouses.
Aside from a few sloppy-looking emoji stickers, the dollhouse was in excellent condition. It expanded, with a fold-out staircase and a fireplace with a TV mantel. I put my fortunate find in the car and drove home.
I didn’t know I was bringing home the haunted dollhouse from hell.
After a good hosing down, I dried and shined it like the top of the Chrysler Building (if the Chrysler Building had been made out of Fisher-Price plastic). The new dollhouse fit perfectly in my kitchen alcove.
My granddaughter was enthralled. After she added furniture from my other dollhouses and a few Barbies, she was happily playing.
“Look, Gremmi,” she said, “It plays music.”
She pressed the TV mantel and, sure enough, it played a bit of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake, an ice-cream truck tune, and a few squeaky horn toots. After several loops the music stopped.