Story 38
It’s Not My Dad
When I was in elementary school, I was what they called a key kid — I had my own key, came home alone, and waited for my parents to return from work.
It happened when I was in fourth grade.
As usual, I came home and opened the living room door.
There, sitting at the dining table with his back toward me, was my dad.
“Eh? Dad! You’re home already? I’m back!!”
Happy to see him home early, I called out cheerfully.
But my dad didn’t answer.
And when I looked a bit closer, I noticed—he looked thinner than usual.
(My dad had always been pretty overweight, even back then.)
Something was clearly off.
He was wearing clothes I’d never seen before—a plain shirt and jeans that didn’t belong to him.
Still not understanding what was going on, I walked up to the man sitting in the chair and said,
“Dad…? Is that you?”
But again, no reply.
So I walked around to the other side to see his face—
and froze.
It was a mannequin.
Terrified, I bolted out of the living room and hid in my room, waiting for my parents to come home.
An hour later, my mom returned.
I ran straight to the entrance to tell her what had happened.
But she said she didn’t know anything about a mannequin.
We both went into the living room together.
There was nothing there.
No mannequin.
Where had it gone…?
When my high school–aged brother and my dad came home later, I asked them too,
but they both said they had no idea what I was talking about.
In the end, everyone decided I must have dozed off and dreamed it all up.
It’s true, I couldn’t think of any reason why there would be a mannequin in our house.
We didn’t own one.
Maybe I really did imagine it…?
A few days later, I told the story to a friend.
She said that when she was home alone once, she went to the bathroom—
and there was a mannequin sitting there.
And, just like mine, it disappeared right afterward.
I don’t know if she was telling the truth or not…
but maybe that mannequin has been visiting the homes of elementary school kids, one after another.
