365 Days- Book I

67. Dollhouse

September 5, 2018

"Write a poem or short story from the viewpoint of someone living in a doll house ."

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The crinkling of the wrapping paper is the first hint I get and I wait with bated breath, is this one of those waited for moments or would it be one of those spring cleaning days, when I am unwrapped, gently dusted, carefully wrapped and put back into the musty darkness?

"It is a doll..."

That joyous ear splitting shriek both confirms my hopes and my worst fears, I am now at the mercy of another young girl. Do not get me wrong, being out of my box and not having the wrapping paper tickle you is very nice, but then all girls are not sugar and spice, some are the devil incarnate and me, a mere doll, really does not get to choose who my girl would be.

This time, I seem to have been picked by a nice girl, not too sugary and sweet but not to wild and spicy either. She does take a lot of time combing my hair and painting my lips with...nail polish. The smell is too strong and the remover does hurt my plastic silicon body. But she is quite gentle about it, so I do not mind though it is suffocating when she clutches me tight in her sleep.

She is a nice little girl; who tells me stories that she has heard from her mother and grandmother. Careful too, not to leave me lying around, which is easy considering that she almost drags me wherever she goes.

For three years, it was nice, till she started going to school and I was forbidden to accompany her; she cried and threw a tantrum. Strangely it made me feel very loved though it was not a pleasant sight to behold and I also felt a slight morbid sadness for it was the start of our estrangement.

The next five years, saw my little girl grow up and so did her games; she still did play with me but the childhood charm was gone and she also had newer dolls; slimmer one, more like the size zero models, made of hard plastic and nylon hair.

Finally, on her thirteenth birthday, she decided she was too old to play with dolls anymore. I do not know what she did with the others, but me; I was gently cleaned, my hair combed free of knots; a new dress was put on me and once again I was wrapped in crinkly tissue paper and put into a box. Before the lid was closed, a small sachet of potpourri and a tiny one of silica gels was slipped in.

I go back to waiting, for yet another girl to come along who would then play games with me.    

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Word count - 446