the daisy duck suit

The story I’m about to tell may sound fabricated, but it is 100% true. So, I will jump to it.



I had flown to California in the United States to visit Disneyland. It was my third day there, and I was exploring New Orleans Square when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed an old door. It looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. It was late afternoon, so I decided to investigate.



As soon as no one was around, I crept to the door. To my surprise, it was unlocked. I stepped inside and immediately noticed a ladder leading down. Curiosity got the better of me, so I climbed down. Eventually, I reached the floor at the bottom. It was pitch black, so I used the torch on my phone to see. As the light illuminated the tunnel, I saw cobwebs, rusted pipes, and crumbling concrete.



At first, I thought I should turn back, but my curiosity won. I continued to explore. As I walked, I noticed a pile of something at the end of the tunnel. My phone's light wasn’t strong enough to make it out, so I moved closer. The only sounds were dripping pipes and bits of concrete falling onto the floor. When I finally reached the pile, I realized what it was—old character costumes, ripped to shreds.



I examined them. They were all Mickey, Donald, Goofy, and Minnie... but there was no Daisy. A sharp chill ran down my spine as I touched Minnie’s glove. At that moment, I heard a faint scream.



Despite my fear, I continued exploring. Just as I was leaving, I heard a whisper: Beware the duck.



I spun around, searching for the source of the voice, but saw no one. Shaking it off, I continued down the tunnel. That was when I noticed my phone was at 10% charge. Panic set in—no one knew I was down here. But by luck, or perhaps misfortune, I found an old torch from the mid-60s. I tried it, and miraculously, it worked. I shined it down the tunnel.



That was when I saw it—a shadow dashing across. I assumed it was a rat and pressed on. As I walked, I began finding pieces of white fur scattered throughout the tunnels. Then, I heard it again. The voice from before whispered, The duck is following you.



I shook it off as my imagination playing tricks on me. But as I neared the end of the tunnel, I saw a message scrawled on an old sheet of paper:



"The duck comes for you. Run. It is your only chance."



Then—something struck me on the back of the head.



When I came to, I was in a dimly lit room. My head throbbed, and as I looked around, I saw it—a Daisy Duck costume standing across the room. It was terrifying. The costume had only one eye, and in its mouth were small pieces of fabric... other costume fragments.



I tried to stand, but my leg was chained to the wall. As I yanked at the chain, I heard it—a quiet chuckle. I turned my head just in time to see the costume... standing up on its own.



Its arms detached from its body and rushed toward me, pinning me against the wall. Then, it began walking toward me. As it approached, its arms reattached, and it leaned close to my face. In a hollow, eerie voice, it whispered:



"A fresh soul to inhabit my body."



Confused, I struggled. Then, I saw it—small, glowing wisps of blue energy flowing from my body into the costume’s mouth. I fought. I resisted. But nothing worked. I was losing.



Then—suddenly—a blinding light filled the room. The suit screeched in agony. Taking my chance, I broke free and ran.



The suit gave chase, its footsteps pounding behind me. Within seconds, I felt its hand on my shoulder. Desperate, I turned and punched—my fist struck its head, knocking it clean off. The body stumbled, but its right arm clung to me. I ran with it still latched on.



I reached the ladder. Climbing as fast as I could, I escaped, slamming the door shut behind me. Even then, the arm remained attached. I tore it off and stuffed it into my bag.



For the next three days, I lived in fear, knowing the Daisy Duck suit was still lurking beneath the park. But on my last night, as I gazed out my hotel window... I saw it.



The suit.



It was standing outside, staring up at me.



I slammed the curtains shut and forced myself to sleep. The next morning, I checked out—and to my horror, the arm was still in my bag. Before leaving, I decided to ask about what I had seen.



At the front desk, I spoke with an elderly woman—I’ll call her "E" for privacy. She looked to be just months away from retirement. As I described the suit, her face drained of color.



Then, she spoke.



"Back when I started working here, Walt Disney wanted to use dark magic to make the suits come to life. People thought they were just actors in costume, but they weren’t. Then, one day, a young boy went missing in the park. They found his body deep in the old tunnel system... untouched, but it was as if his soul had been ripped clean out."



"It kept happening. Once a month. Four to six children. Three boys, three girls. All between the ages of two and four."



"The Daisy Duck suit was always missing when the children disappeared. Walt eventually lost his mind and ordered the suits to be locked away beneath the park. But the Daisy suit... it tore the others apart. Consumed their souls."



"A few years later, after Walt passed, a crew was sent into the tunnels. They never returned. Blood was found... but no bodies."



Her voice cracked. Tears welled in her eyes.



"You're very lucky."



She broke down, sobbing. A colleague rushed to comfort her. As I walked away, I remembered the arm still in my bag. Proof of what had happened. Proof of what lurked beneath Disneyland.