“Dollie – The Story of a Dead Soul” by Margot Su

Written by plumtree

Topics: Archive (2012-2019), Uncategorized

“Dollie: The Story of a Dead Soul”
by Margot Su
My daughter, Dollie Partin died early for her age back then.  She died on October 31st, 1912.  She was 12.  Our family carried her from our house down the streets to the burning.  The epidemic was getting worse.  Everybody was sick and dying.  Dollie had died because of the epidemic.  Slowly, we burned her to ashes in the fire that had been created for the dead.  As I watched her body writhe from the heat, I saw her eyes open ever so slightly.  Something clear, but still visible to the naked eye came from her mouth.
The flames flickered, and I couldn’t see well because of the smoke, but I saw it travel, slowly, looking for a place to live.  Then, it disappeared near a forgotten, porcelain doll.  I never saw it again, until…
Waking up

When I re-awoke, I remembered I had died, so why had I even woken up?  I walked around, making sounds of china clattering against floor.  I looked at my feet.  They were of the most delicate feet made from porcelain!  I looked in a store window.  My reflection was the cutest doll I had ever seen.  I swished my blue dress, just to make sure this wasn’t a doll in the store.  It wasn’t.  I sat down, and looked at my legs and hands.
I had never been so surprised in my life.  My shoes were painted on in the shiniest black paint you could imagine.  The dress was of delicate fabric, so light you couldn’t feel it.  My hair, well, it was also porcelain, not doll hair.  I walked around, and tried to fit in.
My paint was a bit too artificial, but people still stared.  I couldn’t understand what was wrong.  How had I become a doll?  When?  Where?  I only knew that I had ‘become’ a doll.  I was scared.  So i walked to the only place I knew.  Momma.
Momma’s House

I swept so hard.  I was stress-cleaning.  My daughter was dead, and now… now I felt like dying to join her.  There was a knock on the door at midnight.  I opened it without a warning because it was storming.  There sat a porcelain doll with a pretty ice-blue dress, soaked from the rain.  All of a sudden, its hand moved, and it picked itself up off the ground, and stood.
“Hello, momma.  I’m back!” it said.
I fainted.
When I awoke, the doll appeared to be waving my Japanese fan in my face.
“I’m awake,” I said groggily, shaking the doll away.
The doll fell to the floor with a clatter, and looked around, worried.  I looked at it and recoiled in alarm.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” I exclaimed.


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