October might just be the best month for beachcombing. The air is cooler, the crowds have thinned, and with Halloween on the horizon, the shoreline seems to take on a mood of its own. It’s the perfect time to reflect on some of the creepiest finds I’ve come across over the years.
There’s no shortage of eerie discoveries on Galveston’s beaches - some unsettling, others downright bizarre. Whether it’s the shifting tides or a seasonal spike in storytelling, October always seems to bring an uptick in strange sightings. Or maybe people are just more willing to share their spooky beach tales this time of year.
The most abundant creepy thing I find on the beach is dolls - or more accurately, doll parts. Scattered along the shoreline are dismembered limbs, torsos, and most unsettling of all, heads severed by years of rough seas. Once tucked under a child’s arm or perched on a bedroom shelf, these toys now lie in ruin, transformed by time and tide.
Saltwater exposure only adds to their horror. Goose-neck barnacles cling to eyeballs and nest inside open mouths. Turtles and fish nibble at fingers and toes.
The hair, once brushed and styled, is now matted and wild. These aren’t the dolls of childhood - they’re the kind you’d expect to see in a horror film.
Arms, legs, and heads wash ashore all along the Gulf, carried by currents that scatter them like forgotten memories. Each piece tells a story, though not one you’d want to hear after dark.
Whenever I find a doll head, I always check to make sure nothing’s living inside it. Then I pick it up and imagine what it looked like before its long, strange journey to the shore.
The eyes are dull but piercing, as if something still lingers behind them. Sometimes they seem to plead, “Get me out of here.”
I’ve taken a few home to my beachcombing table - not out of fear or disgust, but out of empathy. I don’t bring them into the house, though.
Some beachcombers turn doll heads into nightlights, letting the glow shine through their eyes. It’s creative, sure - but also a little unsettling.
Once, I found what I thought was a doll eye - until a few fellow beachcombers suggested, based on its size and detail, that it might actually be a human prosthetic eye. That realization shifted the mood instantly. Finding something that once belonged to a person is a different kind of creepy.
Seeing it half-buried in the sand, staring straight up at me, made the hair on my neck stand up. It felt like it saw me before I saw it. Still, I picked it up.
It was in surprisingly good condition - no scratches, no signs of long exposure to the Gulf waters. I tried to find out if anyone had lost one, but no one came forward. I still have it, tucked away with my other beachcombing finds.
Dentures and prosthetic toes are other things people tend to lose at the beach. They turn up more often than you’d expect, adding to the strange catalog of items that blur the line between curiosity and discomfort.
A hand on the island’s West End once stopped me in my tracks. I must have circled it three times. I’ve seen plenty of rubber gloves on the beach, but this was different - this one was reaching out of the sand, as if calling for help.
The fingers were curled just enough to suggest motion, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. I leaned in and touched the fingers, half expecting them to move. I had to be certain it wasn’t real.
Spell jars are another odd and undeniably creepy beach find - sometimes called witch jars or magic jars. Surprisingly, they’re not uncommon along the shoreline.
These curious containers trace their origins back to the 1700s, when they were crafted as folk magic to ward off evil spirits by trapping negative energy and storing it in the home or carrying it on one’s person.
Modern spell jars take many forms. They might be tucked inside a plastic bottle, a liquor bottle, or any other vessel that can hold the ingredients of a spell - herbs, bones, nails, hair, or handwritten intentions. Each one is a mystery, left behind by someone hoping to manifest something… or keep something away.
According to modern-day Wiccans, most spell jars are created with good intentions - not curses. Many are sent out to sea as a form of prayer or an offering of gratitude, a way to mark something positive in the creator’s life.
But not all spell jars are so benevolent. Some are crafted with darker intentions - to curse someone or seek revenge.
The contents often offer clues: a partially burned note with a name, ashes, rusty nails, strands of hair, even cigarette butts carrying traces of DNA. Some jars are sealed with wax and filled with herbs or crystals meant to amplify the spell’s power.
Prayer jars, by contrast, tend to hold flowers, herbs, meaningful trinkets, and a handwritten note. I never open spell jars. I may not believe a curse would escape and jinx me, but I’m not willing to test that theory.
I rarely bring one home, regardless of its intent. Folklore says that if you don’t believe in black magic, it can’t affect you. Still, when it comes to spell jars, I prefer to admire them from a respectful distance.
Happy hunting, fellow beachcombers. Keep an eye out for weathered bones and driftwood shaped like skeletal remains - you never know if your shoreline scavenger hunt will turn up a trick or a treat.