From: Angie Myers (
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
Subject: The Clown from Hell
Date: 28 Feb 1995 17:48:53 GMT

Hi guys and gals!

Here’s another story told to me by my brother.

But, first background on the clown-doll from hell. My parents and my little sister (then about 7 or 8 yrs) came back from vacation in Mexico. Apparently, while they were out there they were introduced to other aquaintances (sp?). A lady from this family gave my sister a “clown-doll”, which gave my sister the creeps. My sister pretended to forget the doll when they left these peoples house. The time came when my Uncle Jesse came to visit my parents, and yes it so happened, that lady told my uncle that my sister forgot her doll and if he would bring it to her.

Since my sister was afraid to keep the clown-doll in her room, my brother placed it on a sofa in the basement. (my two brothers were sleeping in the basment, because the contractors were renovating the attic.)

Now, what my brother told me made the hair on the back of my head stand….

Both my brothers had watched a ball-game, and had a couple of beers, one of them placed an empty bottle of beer under this “clown-dolls” arm. (making it appear that he “the doll” was also drinking a brewski.)

My brother keep the family dog downstairs with them at night. But, that night my brother swears that he was awaken by the dog’s growls.

My brother held the dog by the collar, thinking “someone was breaking into the basement….” by this time his vision was kind of adjusting in the dark. And to his feeling of HORROR! – the doll was missing from the sofa where he last saw it before going to sleep.

The dog was going crazy, the dog seemed to be wanting to follow something or someone(?). Then he saw what seemed to be the top of the dolls head walking around to our other brothers bed, yes with the glass bottle in hand.

My brother said that this doll was laughing at him, giggling and insulting him. My brother was frozen with fear, the dog was growling and attempting to protect our other brother. At one point my brother didn’t know what to do, should he let the dog loose?, if he does the dog will be fighting with this thing on top of our brother’s bed with our brother in it.

He then started to pray and gathered enough courage to grab this hellish doll from the neck. My brother shook this doll until it dropped the bottle, while still taunting him and laughing a creepy laughter, and keeping the dog at bay.

He took the doll, placed it in a black garbage bag and locked it in a closet upstairs. Apparently by this time it seemed that the doll no longer moved, talked or made any kind of noise. The dog kind of settle down, but always keep an eye on the bag.

The next morning I noticed that he was kind of pale and a little nervous. He apparently told my parents what occured the night before. That kind of explained the somber look on everyones face when I came to breakfast.

He asked if I could help him with an errand. This errand consisted of getting rid of the clown. My mom suggested “buring it on a crossroad”. At least this is the way its done in Mexico. We could not do that since we live in a metropolitan city, we will for sure get arrested for vandalizing or for arson or for being nutcakes.

It was already dark when had enough courage to actualy get the damn thing out My brother and I just drove out as far as we could and threw it away in a dumpster. I thought all this was kind of funny, and yes being a sister I was scaring my brother as we drove away from the dumpster saying.

“Wouldn’t it be creepy if you should look at the rearview mirror and see the clown jump out of the dumpster and started walking back!” AAAUUHHHHH!

Now I wonder after many years of this incident. I recently flew into town and saw my brother and asked him about it. He still gets the a creepy feeling just talking about it. Now everyone on the household admits not liking the doll. This explains why we always moved it from one room to the other.

Thank you for your patience in reading long stories like this.


Angie adds:

Thanks! Please be sure to include the real finale to the story. Where my brother and I didn’t drop the thing in the garbage dumpster, but in a Goodwill Deposit box. The eerie feeling came over me as my brother and I drove away from the Goodwill Box. I kept my eyes on the rear view mirror until I make a turn onto the street. Wouldn’t it be creepy to imagine seeing the Clown jump off from the top of the deposit box and land on the ground and slowly but surly start walking toward our house again?

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