I told this one before, but I posted really late so I’ll try again this year.

When I was 14 I worked in a doll shop on the first floor of an old colonial house. At the time I loved dolls and it was my absolute dream job. Since I was so young, one of the elderly owners usually worked the register while I ran around the floor and storage room.

At the front of the store was a large display of life-sized baby dolls. They looked extremely realistic and even felt real when you held them. There were maybe 15-20 of these dolls propped up on tables or displayed in bassinets, like an uncanny nursery.

Shortly after I started working, I noticed that the baby dolls sometimes moved around the shop. They turned up in strange places or in unnatural positions, like face-down on a table. I was the only person working the floor, and I watched our customers really closely due to shoplifters, but I still assumed it must be from customers messing with them.

Then one day I went in the storage room and when I turned to leave, the door was locked. The “room” was really just a narrow closet lined with shelves, stacked floor to ceiling with dolls in their coffin-like boxes. I started banging on the door and eventually the owner heard me freaking out and opened it.

Very nonchalantly, the owner proceeded to explain that the store used to be a brothel where a woman and her baby died in childbirth. He then advised that if I ever got locked in the storage room when I was alone in the shop, I should promise out loud to take good care of the ghost’s babies, and she would usually open the door.