They say the original Cabbage Patch dolls were created by a man who made a deal with the devil, if you believe in such things. They didn’t seem similar to your every day dolls; they looked...different. My grandma told me a story about one of these Cabbage Patch dolls. While she was telling me this story, I noticed at some moments she would shut her eyes as if she were trying to rid herself of the horrifying images which invaded her mind. This is her story:




“Megan, come here!” My dad summoned. I was staying at his house for the weekend as was my grandma, his mom.


“Yes?” I questioned, as I ran into the kitchen. My grandma and dad were seated at the kitchen table across from each other, making conversation.


“Mom, tell her the story of the face in the window.” I sat down next to my grandma and turned my full attention to her. Similar to that of my dad, I loved listening to these type of stories, the ones that cause goose bumps to trail up and down your arms, and the hair on the back of your neck to rise.


“Your dad went out with his friends a lot, and every time he would I’d stay up and wait until he came home, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Anyway, when your dad asked me if he could out with his friends one night, I told him, ‘No, no it’s too late,’ but my husband, Eddie, said, ‘No, no let him go it’ll be fine’, and off went your dad with his friends. As time passed, he still hadn’t come home yet and I was beginning to feel very nervous. So, I started to wash dishes in hopes that I would get my mind off of it. While I was washing dishes, I felt that strange feeling of something watching me. I glanced behind me to look through my bedroom window which was partially lit because of the kitchen light, and clearly visible from where I was standing. As soon as I looked through that window...” Grandma closed her eyes and used her left hand to cover her face, and used her right to bang on the table with her palm, nearly shouting, “and Megan I cannot describe to you that face! It was the ugliest face I had ever seen. It looked like a pig, but an ugly pig, snarling at me! It had the body of a man but its face was distorted and troll like. I froze for a second, but was able to turn back around. I figured I was just imagining things so I turned around to look through my bedroom window again, but that thing just remained staring at me with a grin that went from ear to ear. I ran to the bedroom and turned on my light to wake my husband, and as soon as I flipped the switch, the face was gone. My husband insisted it was just the light of the kitchen casting a shadow on the window, and that it was all just my imagination.”


“After your dad came home, I drifted off into sleep, hoping and praying that face wouldn’t show itself in my dreams. The next morning when I woke up, I decided to walk along the side of the house where the window was located. There, on the ground, directly beneath the window where the face appeared, was a beat up cabbage patch doll...” I looked at my dad who was listening to grandma as intently as I was; his eyes however, looked as if he were trying to recall a memory of the past. Then his eyes changed. I realized he had found the memory he was looking for.


“I asked Jesse, your dad, to throw it away.” Grandma finished. My dad nodded, looked at me and said, “What I love about hearing these stories from my mom, is the fact that she didn’t hear these stories from some friend’s sister’s husband, but it’s something she herself witnessed which makes it that much more believable...IF you believe in those kinds of things.”





When grandma finished with her story, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she described the face she saw through her window.



Distorted. Ugly pig. A grin from ear to ear. Body of a man.



Immediately, an image appeared in my head. One that I have never seen or ever wish to come across; whether it be in a dream, a picture...through a window.



While watching my grandma, I noticed she looked as if she wanted to forget that face, but needed to remember for some reason unknown to me. Maybe she needed to remember that moment in her life because it stirred a thought inside her that she never thought could be true. That this memory is what planted the seed of the idea, that there are mysteries in this world that we will never know the answer to, and will never be prepared for. What if there are things beyond our world, watching, haunting; waiting for that perfect moment to make themselves known? Waiting to have us question everything we thought we knew. After all, it is said that spirits both good and bad are always among us; but they choose when they want to be seen.



“Oh mom! Tell her about the woman in black!”


Yeah, how about she not and say she did...



“ When I was younger, I lived to the left of this vacant house...”


My sister has a nightlight right?


“One day a woman went inside the house wearing a black dress, and a black veil that prevented me from clearly seeing her face. It was when I looked at her feet I noticed that they were not touching the ground...”