Monday, July 8, 2013

Porcelain

I wrote this originally as a poem, but my poetry is poor. I decided to turn it into a story. I couldn't get the picture of the room out of my head. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Love you my people!
            A low, orange glow of sunshine was all that was left of the day as it filtered into a house. The incoming shadows fell on the furniture-filled room. A light film of dust covered the unmoved objects scattered about. The only movement in the room came from the autumn breeze seeping through the shattered window. Its curtains were spread across the room leaving the bent curtain rod naked. The breeze brought dozens of leaves and heaps of pine straw inside. They covered the floor completely. It looked like a vacant wilderness. The tiny room had an odor that reminded me of adventures in the woods. A light scent of cheap perfume mixed with the moist leaves. In the corner was a small hand-made doll house that succumbed to decay. Now the once treasured gift was by itself in that lonely corner. My eyes moved to the left of the secluded doll house until I saw a small and perfectly made bad. Its sheets were faded pink and covered in pine straw. They were once bright as was the rest of the room.

            Still something else caught my wandering eye. I saw an antique dresser across from me. Its paint was chipped and its drawers had either missing or broken handles. Fragile trinkets were littered atop the vanilla-colored dresser. A small glass bottle lay opened. It had a shiny clear liquid still inside. It must have been the reason for the sweet scent. The main feature among the dazzling things was a beautiful porcelain doll. She had a pale and hard exterior and seemed to be without worries. Her rosy cheeks and painted lips were wonderfully crafted. Every contour of her face was etched with care, and her eyes were as bright as fire. Though I could not understand why I felt uncomfortable while looking at her. Those eyes of hers taunted me. I marveled at her small hands, and I reached for them but my body couldn’t follow my demands. I shed a tear and to my dismay, so did the doll. There—across from me was the outline of a mirror on the wall.
 

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