So when I was a little kid, I named all of my dolls and stuffed animals after the characters on the TV show “ Dark Shadows”
I used to make up little stories about my dolls and animals and they really did take on a life of their own.
And by far- the most dark and wicked of them all was my stuffed Snoopy Dog with a broken neck- he was named Barnabas and of course because he was one of the undead and bad- really bad. Snoopy aka Barnabas managed to escape from my room every night and he ended up on my sister’s bed or in my brother’s sock drawer or on my Dad’s chest when he woke up in the morning and once he even made a surprise appearance at a funeral and he ended up on coffin in the chapel just as the family arrived for the service
That one cost me, I lost him for a weeks after that one.
And yes, as a matter of fact…it was worth it.
I had years and years of fun with my toys and looking back on it now, I can see how those games fed the imagination that would shape me as a writer.
The downside. Well. It took me a while to see that there was one because there wasn’t a down side for me.
It turned out my rich imagination was a down side for my sister.
My sister- for years we teased that poor woman about this unnatural fear she had about her Baby Alive doll. She was convinced that it wanted to kill her.
In my defense I told anyone who would listen that I had nothing to do with that notion.
Ask my headless dolls and my Snoopy with the broken neck what they thought about ” Baby Alive “
That doll was wrong…very, very, very