Jaime was not a normal seven year old, playing with American Girl dolls. She wanted to build her own.
She sat in the basement, humming and singing, gluing together pieces of porcelain. The smashed toilet, vase, and home decor were spread around her as she glued together arms and legs with surprising craftsmanship. It was something she’d always wanted to do.
Jaime turned the face in her hands. It had the plain smile of a traditional doll, yet was sturdy enough to hide the horrified expression of the tied up woman. Her mother, the first doll, was powerless to stop her.
Thought-provoking piece about a little girl’s talent to capture the abuse surrounding her. Because, she was “singing” and “humming” while creating something, she must have been oblivious to the pain the “doll” was in. I’d like to read a follow-up story or two to this. What is Jaime like in her teens? What is she like in her twenties? Good job!
Gotta wonder if the child’s next move is to thrust a pin through the dolls heart? Good romp in a thought provoking story.
creepy! Love it
Well-written and creepy. 🙂 This story will stick with me. Well done!