A different kind of story
I've been working with adolescents during NaNo so I started a different kind of story - different writing buddies, different mind-set. I'm not sure exactly where it's going yet but I'm enjoying the tension and mystery so far.
THE BROKEN DOLLI hate moving. There’s always something that gets lost or broken. This time it was a doll that used to be my grandmother’s. I think it was even her mother’s or something. It didn’t matter anymore because it was broken. The face was smashed in like someone had punched her. Tears burned my eyes. It wasn’t because she was broken, but because I knew how she felt. I gathered the pieces, careful not to let the china slice into me, and wrapped them in a pillowcase. Then I put the pillowcase and the rest of the doll into the matching pillowcase and set it on top of the dresser. I’d find a doll hospital later and see if I could get her fixed. As I placed the bundle down, I saw my face in the mirror. Flawless skin and perfect cheekbones were reflected back to me. I grabbed up the bundled doll and emptied it out onto the bed then I rummaged through another box to find the Superglue. Twenty minutes later the face was together again. There were smudged fingerprints and yellowed glue lines and her cheeks dipped and rippled because some of the pieces were so small I couldn’t fit them in exactly right. A triangular piece was missing under one eye like a black tear showing the emptiness inside her. I leant her against my pillow and she listed to the side. Battered. Bruised. I envied her. At least her face looked the way it felt.“Lara! Get your arse down here and help.”I closed my eyes and counted my breaths in and out.“Lara!”“I guess that’s the end of my private time,” I said to the doll. I closed the door on my way out even though I knew it was pointless. It would be open by the time I came back upstairs and if I kept closing it, it would be taken off and stored in the garage. Some small sliver of hope kept me trying. She was okay today. I mean, she wasn’t nice or anything—that would be asking too much—but she didn’t scream at me or throw anything at me. She didn’t hit me. I hate days like today. These are the kinds of days that make me think I could have a half-way normal life; be just like other kids. I could have gone to school today and said ‘we moved house’ and everyone would have known exactly what that meant. When I finished and went back up to my room, my door was closed. I stood in the hallway for a long time, staring at the closed door, too terrified to open it and see what was behind it. My heart pounded as I imagined all the things I could see. My clothes could be shredded. My books torn apart and the pieces scattered over the floor. My mattress could be slashed with a knife, the stuffing poking through the cuts like puss from a wound. Don’t laugh. It’s happened before. I lifted trembling fingers, turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.
The carpet just inside the door was still the mottled blue-grey it had been before. I stepped closer so I could see more of the room. The two boxes I’d left stacked under the window still sat there, unopened. I took another step and froze as I saw it. My ‘surprise’ for today.I’d wondered where she’d disappeared to. Now I didn’t need to wonder any longer. She sat on the edge of my bed. Smiling at me. I whimpered. I tried not to, really tried to stay silent and wait, but there was the smile.“Do you like your new room, Lara?”My breath caught in my throat. I swallowed, the gulp audible in the silent room. I nodded.“What’s that, dear?” She cupped her hand around her ear in a parody of eager listening.“Yes, mother.” She continued to wait. “I do like my new room, thank you.”She stood and I jumped. I stumbled a step back from her before I controlled it and stood still, chin up, eyes focused on a spot on the wall behind her head. Her soft hand stroked my cheek and I flinched, my breath now a bellows flooding my head and making me dizzy. Her hand rested on my cheek for a second before sliding down to cup the side of my neck. Her thumb slipped across my throat and dug in under my jaw.“If you want to keep it, you’ll stop hiding things from me. Whatever you have hidden in those boxes had better be laid out for me to inspect before you go to bed.” She lifted her hand and patted my cheek sharply enough to sting. I remained still. “I don’t think you want to find out what will happen to your precious new room and all your lovely things if that door gets closed again.”I stood trembling for a long time after she left. If I turned and she was there, silently waiting, there’d be trouble. After about five minutes, I stumbled to my bed and sat on the corner. It was after ten o’clock and I was tired after spending all day cleaning and unpacking the rest of the house, but I knew I’d finish my room before I even thought about going to bed. The click of a door closing down the hallway, spurred me into action. She’d be showering now so I had less than ten minutes to unpack everything and put it away. If I wasn’t finished by the time she was ready to go to bed and inspected it, I wouldn’t be able to sleep in my bed.
THE BROKEN DOLLI hate moving. There’s always something that gets lost or broken. This time it was a doll that used to be my grandmother’s. I think it was even her mother’s or something. It didn’t matter anymore because it was broken. The face was smashed in like someone had punched her. Tears burned my eyes. It wasn’t because she was broken, but because I knew how she felt. I gathered the pieces, careful not to let the china slice into me, and wrapped them in a pillowcase. Then I put the pillowcase and the rest of the doll into the matching pillowcase and set it on top of the dresser. I’d find a doll hospital later and see if I could get her fixed. As I placed the bundle down, I saw my face in the mirror. Flawless skin and perfect cheekbones were reflected back to me. I grabbed up the bundled doll and emptied it out onto the bed then I rummaged through another box to find the Superglue. Twenty minutes later the face was together again. There were smudged fingerprints and yellowed glue lines and her cheeks dipped and rippled because some of the pieces were so small I couldn’t fit them in exactly right. A triangular piece was missing under one eye like a black tear showing the emptiness inside her. I leant her against my pillow and she listed to the side. Battered. Bruised. I envied her. At least her face looked the way it felt.“Lara! Get your arse down here and help.”I closed my eyes and counted my breaths in and out.“Lara!”“I guess that’s the end of my private time,” I said to the doll. I closed the door on my way out even though I knew it was pointless. It would be open by the time I came back upstairs and if I kept closing it, it would be taken off and stored in the garage. Some small sliver of hope kept me trying. She was okay today. I mean, she wasn’t nice or anything—that would be asking too much—but she didn’t scream at me or throw anything at me. She didn’t hit me. I hate days like today. These are the kinds of days that make me think I could have a half-way normal life; be just like other kids. I could have gone to school today and said ‘we moved house’ and everyone would have known exactly what that meant. When I finished and went back up to my room, my door was closed. I stood in the hallway for a long time, staring at the closed door, too terrified to open it and see what was behind it. My heart pounded as I imagined all the things I could see. My clothes could be shredded. My books torn apart and the pieces scattered over the floor. My mattress could be slashed with a knife, the stuffing poking through the cuts like puss from a wound. Don’t laugh. It’s happened before. I lifted trembling fingers, turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.
The carpet just inside the door was still the mottled blue-grey it had been before. I stepped closer so I could see more of the room. The two boxes I’d left stacked under the window still sat there, unopened. I took another step and froze as I saw it. My ‘surprise’ for today.I’d wondered where she’d disappeared to. Now I didn’t need to wonder any longer. She sat on the edge of my bed. Smiling at me. I whimpered. I tried not to, really tried to stay silent and wait, but there was the smile.“Do you like your new room, Lara?”My breath caught in my throat. I swallowed, the gulp audible in the silent room. I nodded.“What’s that, dear?” She cupped her hand around her ear in a parody of eager listening.“Yes, mother.” She continued to wait. “I do like my new room, thank you.”She stood and I jumped. I stumbled a step back from her before I controlled it and stood still, chin up, eyes focused on a spot on the wall behind her head. Her soft hand stroked my cheek and I flinched, my breath now a bellows flooding my head and making me dizzy. Her hand rested on my cheek for a second before sliding down to cup the side of my neck. Her thumb slipped across my throat and dug in under my jaw.“If you want to keep it, you’ll stop hiding things from me. Whatever you have hidden in those boxes had better be laid out for me to inspect before you go to bed.” She lifted her hand and patted my cheek sharply enough to sting. I remained still. “I don’t think you want to find out what will happen to your precious new room and all your lovely things if that door gets closed again.”I stood trembling for a long time after she left. If I turned and she was there, silently waiting, there’d be trouble. After about five minutes, I stumbled to my bed and sat on the corner. It was after ten o’clock and I was tired after spending all day cleaning and unpacking the rest of the house, but I knew I’d finish my room before I even thought about going to bed. The click of a door closing down the hallway, spurred me into action. She’d be showering now so I had less than ten minutes to unpack everything and put it away. If I wasn’t finished by the time she was ready to go to bed and inspected it, I wouldn’t be able to sleep in my bed.
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