Did Harold the Haunted Doll draw a line in the sand?

Anthony’s note – First of all, I want to say that if this weren’t happening to me, I’m not sure I’d believe it. This is becoming a real life horror film.

 

I woke up this morning, checked my cell phone, and found this message on Facebook from “Linda” –

 

Anthony, I had a REALLY rough night…. look I never had the ability to speak to the dead.  Now I have thoughts  going on other than my own.  I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to handle this.

Although I have not been to church I am religious. This is no time for me to have any distance with God or Jesus.  I am going to speak to one the priest about what is going on here. 

Like I said there are thoughts running through my mind that are not my own, almost negotiating with me telling me what the issues are, but then I’m not supposed to tell anyone, or… I don’t know. This is why I don’t know what to do or how to proceed, but this is a problem Anthony, a problem I never dealt with, have absolutely no knowledge of. It’s because I offered to help. 

Once again you were right, what am I going to do? Having never seen anything like this.  Now you can think I am crazy, or you can help me understand what I am dealing with and direct me from here….

 
I am hoping you don’t think I am crazy…

 

I immediately tried calling her home phone, and her cell phone. No answer of either of them. I’ll admit, I did wonder if her imagination was getting the best of her, as I tried calling her.
 
Last night she told me she saw a “shadow” in her home, and Blue, her 160 lb. Mastiff was “on alert” pacing back and forth, growling and barking at nothing. While I was on the phone with her, I could her Blue barking occasionally in the background.

 

I tried calling her home phone a second time and this time, she answered the phone. “Anthony,” she said, “I don’t have any ‘abilities,’ I’m not a psychic or anything, but last night I kept having these thoughts that aren’t my own. I know that they were coming from Harold.”

 

I’ve dealt with people before whom I’ve wondered about their mental stability to begin with, let alone after their encounter with Harold. Kathy R, the woman I acquired Harold from, being one of them. I began to wonder about Linda’s.

 

I asked her what she was referring to and she told me that she was afraid. “I was warned not to tell anyone, especially you, or I’d pay for it.” I could tell she was genuinely afraid.

 

“Linda,” I told her. “If it is Harold, he’s preying on your fears, and if you listen to him, then it’s the first step in him controlling you.”

 

“That’s what I was afraid of,” she said.

 

“Tell me what he said, and I’ll you what to do, and I’ll deal with him afterwards,” I said starting to become angry, but still not sure what to think.

 

When Linda told me what she had heard, I asked her how much of Harold’s story had she read, and what videos I had posted on YouTube she had watched. She admitted that she had seen one of the videos in which there were “a lot of orbs,” but insisted that she wasn’t familiar with his story, and hadn’t seen any other videos.

 

Even if she had, I wondered, as she was telling me what she claimed Harold was telling her, how did she know details I’ve never shared with anyone? Details I edited out of the videos I’ve posted, and never written about except in my own private records of events and readings?

 

She also described the apparition she saw last night, and provided new information about him I hadn’t heard before, and described him in a way that sounded eerily similar to what Fiona described him.

 

She said he asked her if he could stay with her because I was “mean.”  Then she told me that he said that “someone would be coming to get him from you.”

 

“I know all of this is happening because I offered to help him,” she said.

 

She’s right.

 

After I got off of the phone with her, I made a couple of videos of me having a “talk” with him. After the second video, I turned around and plugged in my phone into the charger. When I turned back around the top of the bag that Harold is in was closed. Not zipped up, but closed. And I didn’t do it.

 

I’m going to include a picture so you can see the bag he’s in.

 

Chills ran up and down my body. “Harold just drew a line in the sand,” I thought, “and he’s letting me know he’s had enough of me.”
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