Looking from afar they were the epitome of perfection. Graceful. Elegant. Poised. There was no amount of words that could or would explain their exquisite demeanor's. In her little blue house she watched. There was never a dull moment, their walls seemed to glisten in the moonlight. She had dedicated her youthful life to the dream of becoming one of them.
Her mother and her would enter the home of the porcelain dolls from time to time. No longer than a second would pass and they were greeted and invited in by a woman that was decorated in jewelry, always dressed to impress. She had remembered waking in the early morning to see her retrieving her news, there she stood completely pampered and groomed.
Hanging their coats upon the hanger that sat next to the door. They seated their selves at the table, receiving a kind smile from the daughter and a nod of the head from the son. The door closed and in entered the man of the neighborhood. There was not one woman that didn't swoon over him. A kiss on the cheek of his porcelain wife and his porcelain daughter, giving a pat on the back to his son and he seated himself in a perfect, rhythmic motion. Food was handed to every person independently and conversation arose.
She was not focused on the quiet chatter that was being carried around the dining room table, all she saw was the picture frame hanging in the middle of the wall, screaming to be looked at. There the family stood in their living room, the perfect catalog family. Their smiles were elegantly placed along their faces in perfect symmetry. They were aligned in a straight row, impeccable posture. With one glance they looked like a family of grace, but when looking deeper, dissecting all the pieces, it looked fake.
"Come play with me..." the girl with a smile of gold had asked. She was tugged along the hall and up the stairs. The room they had entered was any girl's dream room. A vanity for makeup. Pink walls. The bed of a princess. Everything she had ever wanted.
She was sat down on the chair that laid in front of the vanity. A pink brush was pulled from the vanity and began to run through her strands of hair in a neat, straight line.
"I see things that nobody else sees..." were the words whispered into her ear. The words sent shivers down her neck, creating goosebumps. She had no way of knowing how to comprehend what was said, so she wiped it off as nothing more than a meaningless comment. She watched from the mirror as the brush was pulled through her hair over and over again, it seemed to calm her.
~*~
We are the definition of perfection. We are graceful. We are elegant. We are poised. These seeds have been planted into my mind over the entirety of my life. Living in a Dollhouse. Our porcelain skin shines, our golden smiles illuminate the whole room. Our whole street looks at us and wallows in their self pity. Our own house glistens with exuberance.
But we are nothing more than a broken doll collection, constantly gluing our cracks together and painting over it for a new, glossy coat.There is no use in picking the shards of broken glass off the floor and trying to place them back.
The scent of marijuana wafted up through the crack under my door. The sound of music buzzing in the room across from me. He laughed. Oh, he laughed so loud. Almost as insane as I was going, throwing his arms against the already damaged wall.
Wanting to get away from the rage, tip toeing down the stairs. Brushing my hands along the walls that so many seem to see glisten. All I see is walls and a roof coated in such beauty, for it's only purpose to be to mask that of a broken family.
Her fathers study sat right next to the bottom of the stairs. I was about to knock, before I heard the quiet conversing from the other side. So quiet, that is sounded no more than a muffled speech. Cupping my hands to the door for a better way of hearing, sounds of a woman and a man. I concluded that it was my father back with his tramp.
"She won't even know we're fucking in the room right next to her..." said the tramp in a seductive tone. The quiet laughs of my father were heard next. I peaked my head into the living room to see the television playing "The Donna Reed Show" reruns. Mother was lying on the couch, eyes glued to the television set. Her flask was held in her hand. She had mascara running down her face.
"Why can't our family be like yours?" my mother would ask the television set. All she ever wanted to be was perfect and she shoved it down our throats, the picturesque family. She knew in her heart it would never be true, but that never wavered her hope...
The most beautiful family in the block, was the most destroyed and beaten down. But no one knew. I marched up the stairs again, looking from wall to wall of endless suffering. I entered my room of pink walls, the bright color so dim to me. My room was covered in the scent of marijuana. I lied down in my bed and shut my eyes. Complete silence overtook the house.
~*~
She watched as the the lights went out in all rooms of the house. The moon glistening along the walls like stars... Oh how she wished to live in the Dollhouse...
~The End~
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