When I was 9, we had a rather large earthquake while I was at school. I came home early and camped out in the den with my mother and brother while my dad stayed at work. My mother agreed that my brother and I should sleep downstairs, in case of an aftershock she'd rather we were downstairs, and us too.
I had to go up to my room to get my jammies on. I went up, stuck my arm through the door, scared as all hell, and flipped on the light. The first thing I saw as I peeked my head through was the porcelain doll my aunt had given me, sitting atop the shelp in the corner of the room, STARING AT ME. Scared the living bajeezus out of me. Today I can still remember, the look. Horrible.