There was a doll that I once owned, it was a porcelain clown doll about twenty to thirty centimeters high. It was hand painted and had a lot of detail put into it's eyes.

I was only seven at the time when I moved to Minnesota. My Mom got a cat sitting job. Her boyfriend at the time, Brian, was contacted by one of his friends Ginger. So we moved once more.

When we got there Ginger was waiting to bring us to her Parents house. When we got there her sons, Riker and Kale, showed me to my room. Which to much of m delight was full of porcelain dolls as well as baby dolls.

When they left and it was time for bed I heard laughing. I thought it was just my imagination until I noticed that the sound was getting closer and I started to hear scratching. A few minuets later I noticed movement from one of the shelves. I thought it was just a cat so I got up so it wouldn't brake any of the dolls. The closer I got the more I realized that it wasn't a cat. It was a delicately hand painted clown doll that had a horrific look in its eyes.

I was terrified so I ran back to the bed and covered myself up to my head. I got no sleep that night, because I could still see the softly glowing red eyes that should have been blue and most certainly not glowing.

That morning I rushed to get ready for school and left the room.

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I got home from school that day and because there was a desk in my room that's where I needed to do my homework. I got up stairs and heard a rustling sound and was to afraid to find out what was making the noise, but my curiosity got the best of me.

I found where the noise was coming from... behind the closet door that was behind my dresser. I stood there for what seemed like hours. The noise was constantly getting louder and louder. 

Then the cat jumped out and scared me to the point where I screamed so loud that the neighbors heard me. 

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That night I woke up with the doll standing over me. I was scared so bad that I grabbed it and through it out the window. It was on my shelf the next morning perfectly intact. 

It was a Saturday so after I finished cleaning the house I rearranged my room. I was just mindlessly talking to the dolls because I was seven so why not. It was probably my imagination but I could swear the Clown doll was talking to me so I put it closes to my bed ( not my best idea ). 

When I woke up on Saturday night the doll was holding a sharp needle. I was so scared so once more I through it out the window. I thought that would end the torment for the night but he came back fairly quickly, with a shard of glass. My instinct was to once again through him out the window. I opened the window and noticed that there was still a little bit of glass. So the stupid kid I was I talked to him.

I decided to simply talk to him. Talk to the doll as if it was my only friend which it was. He never bothered me again. We were just talking though sometimes I could hear my Mother scream when I left him in her room.