14/04/2026
I got stalked by a mannequin and never went to a retail store again
I stopped by a retail store before work and snooped around the clearance rack that circled a mannequin in workout gear. The biker shorts were sucked in at the waist, and the sports bra hid the little rolls that appear under your armpit when you put something on. I didn't pay much attention to anything else before belting out,
Have a good day
Then I left the store in a normal mood. It wasn't an exciting morning, and I wasn't upset about anything. I was just neutral. While driving to work, I saw the upper body of the sports mannequin in my back seat through the rearview mirror. I swerved out of the lane to look back and see my own insanity. Sure enough, there was a mannequin back there. I signaled and turned my car around to report this vandalism, bewildered, wondering who had time to place the mannequin in my car before I left the store. It all felt odd. I carried the mannequin back into the store and told the manager what happened. After some apologies, the mannequin was put back in its rightful place.
I got to work late because of this practical joke played on me, haha, a funny joke that almost ended my life. I was still shaking from nearly causing an accident at a red light. I slammed on my brakes so hard you could hear the high squeal and smell the burning rubber scorching the ground. I couldn't believe the doll was really in my car. Thoughts haunted me all morning as I entered my office building, a castle of cubicles and private offices for higher managers. I talked to a few people and laughed at some jokes before heading to my desk. I paid no mind to the world as I put on my headset and took the first call. I snapped on my screen and began typing to try to improve some awful situation. I hung up on my third call, turned to look at Rachel in the cubicle across from me, and instead saw the mannequin from the store.
I didn't know if I was hallucinating, so I turned away and continued my work with my heart hammering. I had never been more frightened and confused. At the end of the day, I got up, grabbed my belongings, and went over to the mannequin, touching it. It was real. I screamed and scrambled out of the office as fast as I could. I got into my car, locked the doors, checked the back seat, and sped out of the parking garage, desperate to get home. I parked in the driveway and breathed a sigh of relief when I arrived without incident. I made dinner with my husband and laughed about the mannequin as if it hadn’t almost given me an anxiety attack. We sat on the couch, watching a new B-rated horror film while eating extra-salty popcorn. I happened to turn my head to the window and saw the mannequin outside. I let out an audible scream, and my husband immediately snapped his attention to me.
“Do you see that”? I could not breathe as I figured someone was doing this to me on purpose as some sick prank, and they had gone far enough as to follow me home.
My husband got up from the couch and went outside to the living room window. I stood up and watched him carry it to the street and set it down next to the garbage bins. I really hoped that was the last of it, and it would truly be gone this time. I went to bed early that night and climbed into the safety of my room. I took a nice shower, put on my favorite podcast, and tucked myself in before turning out the light. I felt when my husband came to bed in the middle of the night, and I listened to him when he fell asleep. I closed my eyes and steadied my heart, getting lost in the whispers of some commentary when I got unbearably thirsty and had to get up for some water. I sat up and pulled myself out of bed when I saw something sitting in my chair in the corner of the room. I hurried to my lamp and turned on the light to cast brightness on what was the mannequin in my house. I woke up my husband immediately, who went straight for his gun before scanning the rest of the house. Everything was clear: no one was inside, and there was no sign of a forced entry. I watched my husband dismember the mannequin before throwing it in our fire pit in the back hard. We figured that we would truly take care of this problem, and whoever was doing this would just leave me alone.
The next morning, I woke with anxiety and got ready like any other day. I dressed, did my hygiene routine, and had coffee with my husband before work. We always bumped into each other in the mornings, which was nice since he worked opposite hours and we didn’t see much of each other. I kissed him goodbye and left. My drive was leisurely until I looked behind and saw the mannequin. Almost causing car accident number two, I was blasted by horns from all sides. I let out a scream filled with more frustration than fear and turned my car around to head back to that damn department store.
“Look, I don't know how this keeps happening, but someone is stealing your mannequins and really messing with me.” I held the mannequin tight in my arms, speaking like I was sick and tired of this.
“Ma’am, that's not our mannequin.” I was dumbfounded, trying to understand what she had just said.
“What do you mean that’s not your mannequin. It literally came from this store.” I was being treated like I was stupid, and I didn’t appreciate what was unfolding. I wasn't crazy.
“Our mannequin that looks just like that is standing in its place right now.” The manager tried to explain to me, but I wouldn't have it.
“Take me to it then.” I was snappy and determined to prove myself right.
The manager walked me through the store with my mannequin in tow, and she took me to the twin mannequin standing in front of me, its hands on its hips and its sports gear in place. I was flabbergasted and didn't really understand how this could be happening.
“Where did this come from then”? I looked to the manager for answers and needed to know how far this trick had gone.
“I'm sorry, ma'am, I'm afraid I don't know.” The manager was really sympathetic with me, and I think she was catching on to what kind of morning I was having.
“What do I do with this then”? I held up the mannequin and shook it with anger and exasperation, not knowing where to go from here.
“We have a dumpster out back.” She didn't have to say anything else before I took the mannequin back to my car and drove to the double dumpster behind the building.
I threw the mannequin over the wooden wall and stormed back to my car. This was over. I had finished it, and this wasn’t going to keep happening. I felt some anxiety-induced relief and headed to work excited, ready to take calls all day. I wanted to cry, and it wasn’t even eight in the morning. At work, I complained to a few friends before sitting at my desk and putting on my headset. As I started my day with positive talk from colleagues, I felt normal again. Then I saw my mannequin sitting in the cubicle beside me. I stared at it for a long time before getting up and carrying it out without saying a word. Angry, a million destructive ideas flooded my mind as I sped into my driveway. I tore the mannequin into pieces with my hands and set it on fire in our fire pit. I watched it burn to ash before getting myself together and going back to work. I expected to see the mannequin when I returned, but it wasn’t there all day. I was beginning to settle down. That night, I ate dinner with my husband and talked about this obsession conquering my life. He gave me some extra kalonipin before we finished the night with a movie and a good sleep.
I slept soundly that night, and when I woke up in the pitch black within the earliest hours of the morning, my room was still, and there was no intrusion. I went back to bed peacefully and felt a rock of repose in my heart. I woke up the next morning and made coffee with my husband before going out back and checking on my fire pit. The charred doll was still in its place, and I laughed out loud to myself at the craziness that had infected my life for days now. I got dressed in the same workout gear I bought from the retail store the doll came from, and I put my earphones in place before going on my weekend run. I jogged out of my neighborhood and into the park near my house. I ran a nice trail through the woods, and with the music and the fine air on my skin, I felt serene. Then I began to see the mannequin within the trees. The first time I saw it, I just ran faster away from it, hoping to lose it altogether. I was panicked and lightheaded as my heart rate increased and my breath got stuck in my throat. Then I saw it again, ahead of me, sitting on a wooden bench next to a stone water fountain. I turned around and ran in the opposite direction with tears in my eyes and unease bubbling in my gut. I sprinted straight home and told my husband frantically what had just happened to me in the park. I even took him out back and showed him the empty fire pit.
My husband gave me some extra anxiety medication and sat me down in the living room to help me relax. I lay curled up, watching the blank TV for hours before falling into the numb sleep the medication offered. When I woke, it was late evening. My body was sluggish as I sat up on the couch, rubbing sleep from my eyes. I glanced at the reflective black TV. Behind me in the kitchen, standing at the island with a plate of food, was the mannequin. I screamed for my husband, who wasn’t home, and sprinted to the mannequin, grabbing a knife and digging into the possessed doll. When my husband came home, I was sitting in the kitchen, back against the counters, a butcher knife in hand, and a desiccated doll beside me. He got me up, put me in the bath, and finally called the cops. But when he tried to explain we were stalked by a mannequin, it was treated as a joke, and we were laughed at and hung up on.
I cried in the bubble bath, then cried myself to sleep, seeing no way to fix this. Did I need an exorcist? The Catholic Church? I felt like I’d murdered this thing a billion times but didn’t know how to keep it dead. The next morning, I saw the doll sitting on the chair in my room, waiting. I walked past it, too tired of the game, and got ready for work. I didn’t scream when I saw it in my car’s backseat or at work in the cubicle next to me. I was done with this nonsense and just starting to accept what was happening. One morning, I woke to its usual spot in my bedroom chair and ignored it, hoping it would get bored and move on. I went downstairs, about to leave, but on my way back upstairs, I saw the mannequin standing outside my closed guest room. I walked past it without thinking and left for work. I didn’t see the mannequin all day and wondered if I’d lost it, but I wasn’t that naive. I knew something was going on, just not what. After work, I ate dinner with my husband and headed upstairs when I noticed the guest room door open and the light on. I went to turn everything off and saw the mannequin lying under the blankets in the bed. I cautiously turned off the light and closed the door. I slept fine that night, checking on the mannequin at least 20 times. In the morning, it sat at our kitchen table with a bowl of cereal. I made coffee and watched my husband come down the stairs and stop dead in his tracks.
“It's not even there anymore.” I looked directly at the mannequin and shook my head. “It's just a part of life now.” I focused on my breakfast and shrugged it off just like I shrugged it off when it was in my backseat, and I shrugged it off when it was sitting under the desk in my cubicle.
The mannequin fed itself, traveled efficiently, and could tuck itself in at night. I don’t know who else can see it, or if they’re just good at hiding shock and bewilderment as if I were mentally crippled and having a midlife crisis I’m too young for. I didn’t want this to happen again, so I stopped going to retail stores and now order everything online. But when they start adding robots as deliverymen, I’m not sure what I’ll do if one chooses me like this mannequin did. What if I’m stalked by two anomaly entities, one more local than the other but still mostly insane? I didn’t care what people thought of me with my mannequin around, but at least it didn’t scare me or make me feel like I was losing my mind. It became like part of the family, and his name ended up being Joe. After many tantrums about names, Joe won. Now there is Joe, and he’s kind of cool. By this time, I wish he could actually talk to me. I don’t know what will happen then, and I wonder if the mannequin would send me to the mental health floor in the nearest hospital ER. Fun things to think about for the near future. I hate this and hate that it’s happening, but whatever. I’m done losing patience over this guy. Maybe if I act like he’s really there, he’ll eventually leave the family and move on to other things, like standing back in a department store to prey on the next victim. Who knows? You can only hope for the best and plan for the worst.
