Henry, The Antique Doll

Chapter 1: Not An Ordinary Doll

Henry is not an ordinary doll.

Unlike regular toys that possess no thoughts or emotions, Henry has the gift to think and feel like a real boy who is stuck in a stuffed vessel. There was no telling how fate had led him to become a doll. Throughout his timeless life, he has spent his days entertaining the children of a prominent British family. He delights in being a child's plaything, cherishing their smiles and laughter. Despite being tossed around and stretched until his seams tear apart, nothing is as valuable as a child's happiness. Henry's role as a doll flourished within the family, with a constant stream of children eager to play with him. As his owners grew older, he was passed on to the next generation of kids. This cycle continued until it all came to an end a couple of decades later with an unfortunate event affecting both Henry and the family.

"I want to move to the city, father! There is so much more to see there than in this mansion. Please consider!" The youngest daughter of the family begged her father. Oh, how terribly does she yearn for the city! The girl was only fourteen and had grand dreams of her own. She had heard great tales of the city from her friends in school and wished to experience it herself.

Her father remains deeply uncertain of this demand. He is a reasonable man, much unlike his father, and his father's father. Henry knew of them, for they all inherited the doll from each other. The man does not give in so easily to anyone - not even his own daughter - unless he is convinced that the city life is a good place to raise the family.

The youngest daughter then added, "Father, I promise, when we get there, I will become studious and find myself a good husband. Surely, there are plenty more opportunities there than over here!"

The family departed for the city shortly thereafter, planning to return after a week. But that return never came. Whispers among the maids and butlers spoke of a tragic accident on the road. When the news of their demise was confirmed, the mansion's staff was dismissed, and the once-bustling home fell dead silent. The family's belongings, untouched and undisturbed, remained exactly as they had left them, preserved in a state of suspended time for many years.

Several seasons have passed since anyone set foot in the mansion, now frozen in time like a historical relic. The house remains as it was when its last occupants lived there, a silent witness to the passage of time. It's unclear how long Henry has been confined to his spot. Perched on the top shelf of the children's playroom, his back pressed against a wooden crate of antique toys, Henry's predicament is a result of his own limitations. Despite owning such an expansive, empty mansion, he cannot explore it. The lack of a spine makes it impossible for him to support his upper body, and his flimsy legs are incapable of bearing any weight. Even his stitched-together fingers struggle to grasp or move objects.

"Is this how Chester felt when he became bedridden many years ago?" Henry thinks to himself.

Chester was Henry's first owner from the late 1880s. He had Henry as a little boy and treated him as a loyal companion, giving him a name and spending every day with him. However, Chester had tuberculosis in his early teens, which made social interaction difficult as he stayed at home to recover. Time took its toll on Chester, who passed away before he had the chance to find a lover and start a family that he hoped for so long. During those challenging times, Henry was there to support him, although, being a young doll, he was too inexperienced to grasp human emotions. 

Henry's gaze drifts across the playroom to the opposite room. The walls, peeling with age, are adorned with an old calendar from March 1967, and nearby, a cuckoo clock stands still, its hands frozen at 5:17. Henry knows that it is no longer 1967; he has watched through the window as nearly a decade of winters has passed. His yearning for human touch diminishes with each passing day. What else can he do but yearn for the end? He cannot endure another day of waiting for fate to bestow its mercy while he counts the hours. Indeed, Henry is a dramatic doll, but no one knows this as his words are trapped behind his sealed lips.