 The possessed toy. The memories of our family's first rental home in Fresno, California, which we rented in 2011, are still vivid in my mind. As I reminisce, I recall the overwhelming excitement that filled me as we made preparations to move into the newly constructed neighborhood. Moving day was a blur of activity, but I remember feeling elated when we unpacked our belongings and made ourselves at home. The house was absolutely stunning, with its grand high ceilings and large windows that filled the rooms with natural light. The kitchen was especially impressive, with ample counter space and every amenity I could have dreamed of. At night, the hallway was eerie but that was the only part of the house that I wasn't too fond of. It seemed to go on forever, with several closed doors on the right side and was dimly lit. The lack of adequate lighting only added to the spooky atmosphere. I often found myself hesitant to venture down the hallway alone, feeling a sense of unease as I made my way towards the master bedroom located at the very end of the hallway, which seemed like a distant and foreboding destination. Despite the eerie hallway, this home was more than perfect and a world apart from the cramped and noisy urban apartment we had left behind. I felt incredibly lucky and grateful to have been able to afford such a magnificent home, especially considering its prime location. The rent was surprisingly affordable, which added to my joy and sense of contentment. I felt like we had hit the jackpot, and I remember feeling grateful for our good fortune. Given the size of our house and the abundance of toys, I decided to transform the spare bedroom, closest to the hallway entrance, into a playroom for my girls. This way, I could always be close to them while they played, keeping an ear out for them as I went about my daily tasks around the house. It allowed me to be readily available to them whenever they needed me. As we settled into our new home, I noticed that one of the lights in the hallway would flicker incessantly every time it was switched on. What was even more peculiar was that the flickering only occurred in the light directly in front of the playroom. This flickering persisted for a day or two before the light eventually went out completely. Despite calling in several electricians to assess the issue, none of them could identify any problems. We even tried using different brands of light bulbs, but nothing seemed to resolve it. Walking back and forth through the hallway at night, I feel a sense of unease. The long and narrow hallway became engulfed in darkness, which seemed to ooze with an unsettling sense of foreboding after the light went out. Every time I had to make my way through the hallway, whether to get to the master bedroom or back to the main area of the house, a creeping feeling of dread would take hold of me. It felt like someone was perpetually breathing down my neck, there cold, fetid breath tickling my skin. I would often turn around, half expecting to see a shadowy figure looming behind me, but there was never anything there. Despite feeling uneasy about the hallway, I made a conscious effort to remind myself that my fear was likely a result of the length and dimness that amplified its intimidating nature. I recognized that my mind could be playing tricks on me, and so I tried to push aside my unease whenever I walked down it. Instead, I focused on more positive thoughts to help me feel more at ease and prevent my imagination from running wild. My brother Luke paid us a visit a month later with a surprise for my two-year-old daughter Jane, who was a huge fan of the movie, Toy Story. When he presented Jane with a Buzz Lightyear toy, she was absolutely thrilled. The toy was a masterpiece, with intricate designs and features that made it seem like the character had come to life. Jane's eyes sparkled with excitement as she ran her small fingers over the buttons and switches, eager to explore every nook and cranny of her new companion. From that moment on, Jane and Buzz became inseparable. She took him everywhere she went, no matter what the activity was. Buzz was a constant companion during meals, watching TV, and even during bedtime. She would hug him tightly and drift off to sleep. Strange occurrences began happening not long after Jane received the Buzz Lightyear toy. A few nights later, I was jolted awake by the sound of it going off. I assumed that Jane must have accidentally pressed a button in her sleep and went into her room to turn it off. To my surprise, she was sound asleep, completely unaware of the commotion. I returned to bed, and once again, I heard Buzz go off, this time with his famous line. It was clear that something unusual was happening with the toy. I felt a sense of urgency and worry gripping my chest, as I rushed back to Jane's room, my footsteps echoing in the silence of the house. I entered the room, my heart was pounding so hard that I could feel it in my throat. The sudden activation of the toy had taken me by surprise, and I couldn't shake off the confusion and concern that flooded my mind. My hands trembling in my heart racing, I cautiously approached the toy, determined to maintain my composure. As I switched it off once more, I scanned the room, finding no one in sight. Puzzled, I couldn't help but ponder over what could have triggered its self-activation. My thoughts raced, exploring various possibilities, yet I struggled to find a rational explanation for the inexplicable event that had just unfolded. I turned to Jane and gently tucked her back into bed. The thought that something could be wrong made me feel uneasy and anxious. Standing beside her, observing her serene figure, I made a concerted effort to soothe my racing thoughts. However, deep down, I realized that I needed to delve deeper into the situation to alleviate my concerns. A sudden surge of urgency and unease propelled me to pick up Buzz and make a hasty exit from the room. As I navigated down the dimly lit hallway, the flickering lights cast unsettling shadows on the walls, shrouding the area in an eerie ambience. The persistent feeling of apprehension that gripped me only grew stronger, as if an ominous presence was lurking in the shadows, observing my every move with a sense of wirristic anticipation. Every step I took felt heavy and deliberate, as if I was walking through a thick fog. I could feel my heart racing in my chest, and my mind was filled with all sorts of unsettling thoughts. My heart was pounding so loud that I could hear it in my ears as I approached the playroom. I carefully placed Buzz inside the toy chest and closed the lid. I took a deep breath and made my way back to bed, hoping that sleep would bring me some relief. But even as I lay in bed, my mind continued to race with questions and doubts. The fear and unease lingered, casting a shadow over my thoughts and making it impossible to fully relax. Once my mind finally began to settle, I was abruptly jolted by the sound of my daughter Jane's hysterical crying. Her small body was convulsing with sobs, and she clutched her favorite blanket with a ferocity that made it seem like her life depended on it. Between her sobs, she repeatedly uttered, Buzz, her voice trembling with anxiety and fear. It was a heartbreaking sight, and I felt helpless in the face of her distress. Despite my initial reluctance, I knew that I had no choice but to give Buzz back to her. As I handed over her beloved companion, she clung onto him tightly, seeking solace in his comforting presence. Witnessing Jane find peace in Buzz's embrace was both heartwarming and bittersweet, evoking conflicting emotions within me. As she wiped away her tears with a tiny hand, her shoulders gradually relaxed, and I felt a pang of emotion deep within my chest. We carried on with our daily routines, experiencing a semblance of normalcy throughout the day. However, as I immersed myself in preparing dinner that evening, the abrupt sound of the playroom door closing seized my attention, causing me to halt in the midst of chopping. Instinctively, I called out to Lila, urgently pleading for her to leave the door ajar. Met with an eerie silence, I raised my voice, calling out once more, this time with heightened urgency. Finally, Lila emerged in the kitchen, her face flushed and her breath shallow and rapid. Despite her words of reassurance, conveyed through a comforting smile, she conveyed that they hadn't closed the door. Despite my certainty that I had heard the door close, Lila's insistence that it remained open left me feeling perplexed. When she asked if she could continue playing, I granted permission but emphasized the importance of not closing the door. Notting and understanding, she rejoined Jane in the playroom. As I settled into bed that night, the sudden sound of Buzz going off once again startled me. My heart raced with fear as I hurriedly made my way to Jane's sleeping area, desperately seeking to silence the toy. My hand trembled as I removed the battery and carefully returned Buzz to its place, silently pleading for it to remain dormant this time. However, as I turned to leave the room, my worst fears materialized. Buzz unexpectedly sprang back to light. Filling the space with its eerie and unnerving noises. Overwhelmed with terror, I knew I had to take immediate action to unravel the mystery behind the toy's peculiar behavior. I exhausted every possible method to silence the noise, but my efforts proved futile. Even after removing the battery earlier, the toy continued to emit its disconcerting sound. Overwhelmed with a sense of alarm and unease, I promptly awakened my husband. United in our determination, we employed various tactics, and after several attempts, my husband's endeavors finally succeeded, bringing an end to Buzz's unsettling noise. Amidst all the commotion, I found solace in the fact that Jane and Lila remained undisturbed, blissfully asleep. Thankfully, their peaceful slumber spared me from the prospect of a prolonged and sleepless night. The incident had shaken me to the core, leaving behind an unsettling feeling that refused to dissipate. It was evident that there was something off about the toy, and I couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that it was somehow intertwined with the strange events of the previous night. The lingering unease compelled me to dig deeper, determined to unravel the mysterious connection between the toy and the uncanny occurrences. The next morning, while I was busily preparing breakfast, Lila came sprinting into the kitchen with tears streaming down her face. She was sobbing uncontrollably as she explained that she had been playing with Jane in the playroom and left really quick for a bathroom break, but somehow the door had become locked. Lila insisted that she had not locked the door herself and knew that Jane wouldn't have been able to neither. The fear in her voice was palpable, and my heart began to race as I realized the severity of the situation. Jane's distress was evident as she noticed the closed door and her inability to turn the door knob. Her cries grew increasingly hysterical, reaching my ears and intensifying my fear and anxiety. Without hesitation, I sprang into action, desperately scouring the area for the key to the playroom. However, my frantic search proved futile, further fueling my panic. Uncertain of the next course of action, my mind raced in an attempt to find a solution. Time was of the essence, prompting me to call my husband, hoping he might have taken the key. When he informed me that he hadn't, a profound sense of helplessness washed over me, and my anxiety tightened its grip on my chest. As I approached the playroom, I noticed that darkness engulfed the entire space, leaving nothing but a void of light. Glancing through the slender opening beneath the door, I could detect no traces of illumination breaking through. A wave of sadness washed over me as I became aware of Jane's petite fingers slipping through the gaps, desperately seeking solace. Her escalating fear and unease were palpable, and it tore at my heart to witness her in such a state of terror and vulnerability. In that instant, tears welled up in my eyes, cascading down my cheeks, as I grappled with the desperate urge to assist her. The grip of fear tightened around me, leaving me paralyzed, and it was evident that Lila shared the same intense fright. All I yearned for was to restore serenity, to provide solace to my precious daughter and alleviate her anxieties. Yet, in the face of the locked door in the absence of a key, I felt utterly powerless, unable to bridge the gap between us. Driven by desperation, I lunged for my phone and feverishly scoured the internet for any guidance on lockpicking. My heart pounded in my chest, my thoughts scattered in disarray, all while Jane's distressful cries and piercing screams echoed from the other side of the door. Each wail felt like a shard, shattering my heart into countless fragments. I diligently followed the instructions outlined in the video, attempting various techniques to pick the lock, but to no avail. Frustration and panic welled up within me, intensifying with every passing minute. Each ticking second served as a painful reminder that my precious daughter remained confined and gripped by fear. After a prolonged wait, my husband rushed home with unparalleled speed, his determination propelling him forward. Without a second's delay, he made a beeline for his trusty toolbox. Watching in a mix of astonishment and relief, my eyes widened as he extracted a hammer. With resolute purpose, he swung the hammer with unwavering force, striking the door knob repeatedly until a resounding crack reverberated through the air, marking its ultimate defeat. As the door burst open, I sprinted towards Jane, tears flowing down my cheeks, and unfolded her in a tight embrace. Her frail body trembled with a mixture of fear and immense relief as she clung to me. While I held her close, a sudden eruption of noise erupted from the toy chest, triggering a cacophony of other toys joining in. I turned to my husband, our faces etched with shared trepidation, as we both struggled to comprehend the eerie occurrence. Overwhelmed by fear, we exchanged knowing glances, acknowledging that something was not right. With caution, he advanced toward the toy chest, his hand trembling as it hovered tentatively over the lid. As he gingerly opened it, an eerie silence enveloped the room, prompting both of us to release a collective sigh of relief. However, our respite proved fleeting, as Jane's anguished cries pierced the air. She desperately reached out for Buzz, seeking solace in his presence, oblivious to the unsettling events unfolding around us. Swiftly, my husband slammed the lid of the toy chest shut in a bid to silence the unsettling phenomenon. Yet, despite our hopes, Buzz sprang to life once more, causing us both to startle at the sudden sound. With a cautious touch, my husband retrieved Buzz from the chest, meticulously inspecting it for batteries, only to discover an absence of any power source. In a swift motion, my husband forcefully closed the toy chest, aiming to quell the disconcerting phenomenon. However, our hopes were shattered as Buzz sprang to life once again, causing both of us to jump an alarm. Meanwhile, an eerie light show unfolded throughout the house, as the flickering lights cast an unsettling glow. Anger surged within me, as the fear not only gripped us, but also affected my precious girls. In frustration, I shouted aloud, What do you want? Miraculously, everything abruptly quieted down, as if in response to my outburst. Fueled by determination, we resolved to confront the enigmatic force that had tormented our family. My husband, resolute in his actions, shattered Buzz into myriad shards, casting him aside without hesitation, despite witnessing Jane's tearful distress. The weight of subjecting our daughters to such a traumatic experience pressed heavily upon our hearts, but we recognized the necessity of taking decisive measures. Without faltering, we made the arduous decision to abandon the house, vowing never to set foot within its walls again. We refrained from acquiring any new toys, symbolizing our commitment to embrace a fresh chapter of our lives, free from the haunting memories that once plagued us.