As if the click was a switch, the fallen dolls blinked their eyes, all at the same time. Normally, that would have been impossible. The dolls were the latest fashion, procured from overseas at great cost for the young mistress, and their eyes were of the sort that closed when they were laid down.
Nevertheless, the set of five dolls blinked their eyes at the same time a few seconds after the door had closed, and one by one, they stood up clumsily on their podgy arms and balanced precariously on their clay-like moulded legs. The layers of frilled petticoat did not aid them in this task; in the end they gave up and settled for sitting up straight. Even this simple action could only be done by propping their arms behind their soft backs.
The old and tattered teddy bear peered down curiously from the high four-poster bed. The dim light of the evening before the chambermaids came to light the lamp did little to aid the old toy from seeing the new toys properly. The dolls could not easily sit up straight like all other toys; their heads were made of a heavy clay the humans had pronounced as pour-se-lin. So the new dolls could not even move from where the girl flung them. But that was alright for them, all the better to collapse when she returns.
The prettiest of them all, the youngest one, her hair was not in tight ringlets that were the fashion during that time. Even the young mistress and her mother had ringlets in their hair, but not the youngest doll. She had lovely flaxen blond hair, that flowed down her back. She loved her hair, and would occasionally use her free hand to comb through it. The other dolls would smile and talk quietly amongst themselves, commenting on this and that of the ornate room. And of course, they would drop compliments on how beautiful the youngest doll was, and she would smile graciously back and silently comb her flaxen hair.
The old teddy bear stared silently at them, and then flopped back onto the bed. He knew he would have a rough time the night later, for wouldn't the young mistress toss him around? He dropped into a dreamless slumber.
He never smelled the smell of the carpet set on fire.
He never heard the screams of the dolls, as they struggled to get away from the fallen candle, blown down by the hard slam of the door when the chambermaid left.
He never saw how the prettiest maiden had, with her flaxen hair flowing beyond her, caught on fire the fastest, her long hair aglow with a fire that thrived on the expensive thread her hair was made of.
He never even felt the bed tremble as the burning dolls hit the legs and slump, silent until their bodies burnt down to ash.
For indeed, he had seen too many new dolls cursed by the old old room. He knew by the time the day was over, he would be the only toy in the room once more. He knew the carpet would be changed, as it was for many times before. He knew, because he was the one who cursed them. He was the one who in his slumber would cause the candle to fall. He was the one who would hate the new toys with all of his black heart, and they never contested his supremacy in the room.
At least, not when they all died.
Even through his slumber, a small smile tugged at his old lips...
chiiyo's comments :
This little piece has graduated from being a snippet to an acknowledged short story. Though it is a little too short for a short story... oh well. I started out intending to capture the mood of an olden Victorian room, the dim lighting, the heavy draperies, the stuffy atmosphere. It is one of those pieces that I write and continue writing with no plot in mind, no planning, no idea what direction I'm going, until a fancy hits me and I start expanding the story that way. You might have realised by now, this is how I write most of the time, and I end up with very interesting endings sometimes. Some people have told me that they find this piece morbid and creepy. If so, I'm really happy that I can incite such feelings in my readers... As for me, I like the teddy bear... *evil grin*