Stuck With Puppets

This happened to me, my brother and a small group of our close friends years ago.

One of our close family friends had a relative that lived out in what most would consider to be a small type of mansion in the woods just outside of, if I'm remembering correctly, Murphy, Oregon. The lady owned most of the property that surrounded her home which was situated by the river. Behind the house was nothing but a large expanse of woodlands, and in front was the river with the only access to the house a relatively old bridge that was due for a replacing ten years before our arrival.

Our family friend had asked my brother and I if we wouldn't mind cleaning up the place since she was planning on selling the property and wanted the home to be presentable to the public. She had offered to pay each of us for our services as well as provide food for the whole endeavor. Being short on cash like any other young adult, we readily agreed and gathered a small clutch of our friends in order to drag to the home and help us clean up.

It was a normal two-story house with electricity only to the lower levels since that was the only area that was in use whenever anyone stayed out there. The house was relatively nice and was pretty modernized on the bottom floor.

We had decided it would be smart to start on the top floor while the sun was still up, providing us with light since there was no electricity on the second floor (we had attempted to turn it on with no luck). All was fine and dandy until we got to this one room just barely in sight of the stairs.

Now, I never had issues with puppets before until I saw the shear volume of the puppets in this room. Now that wouldn't have been such a bother in itself if it hadn't been for the odd fact that the puppets were nailed to the walls and floor with multiple nails as if someone was trying to steal them. A little disturbed, we all pushed it to the back of our heads and dusted the room, ending the cleaning with a quick picture to give to the landlady.

As the day went on we didn't realize that it had started raining really heavily outside of the house while we cleaned and swept the building. It was around 8:30PM that we had finished everything and proceeded outside to my brother's car and shuffled in as water came pouring down on us. Once in the car, we all looked ahead to see that the bridge had been taken out by the river which, if anyone knows anything about a river and sudden downpours, had swollen in no time flat. So, seeing as we had no other choice, we decided to stay inside the house until someone came for us which, in that rain and the fact that our parents knew where we were, wouldn't be until morning.

So we had settled back inside the house on the lower floor and huddled in the living room with some snacks and movies and watched the TV as the hours ticked by. It wasn't until around 11:45PM or so when one of our friends got up to go to the bathroom and stopped at the foot of the stairs going completely pale. We watched as she motioned for us to come over to her side, never taking her eyes off the stairs as we all shuffled over to her. We followed her gaze until we saw that there was a light glowing from within the puppet room.

Worried that it was a fire or something, my brother pounded up the stairs with all of us following close after as he forced the door open to the puppet room. Looking in, the light was still on but that wasn't the only thing out of place. All of the nails that had been hammered into the puppets were in the middle of the floor with all the puppets stacked facing the door.

As quickly as he had opened it, my brother slammed the door shut and we all ran downstairs, gathered our stuff and went out to sleep in his car, which we drove as close as we could safely get to the bridge.

Needless to say we had never stepped foot in that place again, as well as I now have major issues with puppets thanks to that. Still can't stand them.

Later we had found out from the owner that the house had belonged to a relative of hers that had gone clinically insane. She was the one who had hammered all of those puppets and dolls into the house and walls. Often she would wake up in the middle of the night in a fit trying to tear them down. She had died in the house by overdosing on her medication and was found in the puppet room.

You can call me crazy if you want but I promise you this is a true story. Not only I but, my brother as well as five others, were there that night. We all rarely talk about it but when we do all we can agree on is the fact that we were glad to never return.