Dolls Stories

‘The dolls!’ was Emma’s first conscious thought. She was sure she heard the delicate sounds of pitter-patter across her hardwood floors.  With a shaking hand, she grabbed her phone and prayed to God that nothing had touched her. Emma’s fingers slid silently along the now lit screen and unlocked it. Every movement was stiff and deliberate. Fear and panic had seized her muscles.  She pressed the flashlight button and shined...

It was dark now. I was but a forgotten memory, stuck playing a lullaby and spinning around in circles. I gazed at the moon and the stars, the cracks in the shattered mirror distorted the image and made it seem less real. Once I stood tall and proud on the shelf. The music chimed brightly and I danced my heart out. The song was as light as my feet, as I delicately spun. My heart soared, not knowing of the prison, this cage...

I'm lying on the floor of our rec-room, watching cartoons. I'm about eight years old and this is pretty much all I do on a Saturday morning. I hear the front door slam, a familiar sound, and glance up only when I realize that my father is coming down the stairs of our split-level home. He peeks over the railing at me, and says, "Come on..." He is sweaty, and covered with grass clippings. His black curls have already begun...

I spent the day turning each doll, each stuffed animal, on the shelf to face the wall. There’d been too many questions lately,questions I haven’t felt capable of answering. Each time I’ve looked up, they were still there, teetering like snow upon their lips, ready to cascade down in avalanchian proportions at any moment. So I turned them around, faced them towards the wall. One by one. It amazes me how many there are in o...