A Thousand Words
The Doll
Picture
Elizabeth sipped from the champagne glass filled with sparkling cider as she listened to her parents drone on and on about the same things they always did. Business, money, and their perfect daughter who always obeyed and followed their every whim. Bragging was what they did best. If they weren't able to brag, Elizabeth was sure they would slowly whither away to nothing. Their ability to listen to their own voices for hours never ceased to amaze her.
Elizabeth was nothing more than a doll. She was moved around limply by her parents, without the vocal box to protest. She wasn't a mute, but she might as well be. No matter how loudly she screamed she didn't want to do something, she ended up doing it anyways. She was a doll for her parents to dress up and show off to all their friends like giddy little girls with their barbies. Perfect little Elizabeth, the trophy, the doll, the masterpiece.
Elizabeth hated being perfect. She hated that getting an A- led to her being grounded for a month, a B or lower for three. She hated that every time she wore clothes that did not consist of a frilly dress or skirt, her parents sneered and made her go to bed without dinner. She wanted so badly to breathe in a breath of fresh air and scream at her parents "FUCK YOU!" But she remained silent and let them parade her around. Rebelling only made things worse, as she had found out the hard way.
All of the people gathered at the table at something her parents said. She couldn't bring herself to laugh with them. She wasn't a good actress, and she wasn't very good at pretending she had the luxury of emotions. She couldn't show that she was anything but numb. Her face was far too honest for her own good.
The room seemed to suffocate Elizabeth as the laughs grew and grew, crashing against each other and against Elizabeth in a fantastic display of sound. But Elizabeth didn't react. Her face remained ever stoic and monotonous. Not even a single twitch.
"How is school going, Elizabeth?" a fat, balding business partner droned in his overly pretentious voice.
"It is going well," she replied in her quiet, raspy voice. It was raspy because it wasn't used often. "The classes are progressing rather quickly, but I try my best to keep up," she replied, modest as her parents always trained her to be.The more modest she was, the more impressive her force-fed feats seemed to everyone.
Elizabeth knew her life was less than normal. She knew that most parents saw their children as blessings and loved them dearly. She knew that to her parents, she was nothing but a trophy. Sometimes she wished and pleaded for her parents to love her, but other times she couldn't bring herself to feel enough emotion to care.
Elizabeth was excused from the dinner table, but still trapped there in spirit with bragging words from her parents. She walked upstairs to her room, the sounds of "She won first place in a poetry competition for the state" fading slightly. On the way to her room, she passed a mirror. For some reason, her body automatically paused and turned to look at it. She cocked her head slightly to the side as she examined the girl before her.
Her eyes were a deep chocolate, but they were vapid. Hollow. They were surely beautiful, but there was no depth or soul to them. Her body had no semblance of the curves all the other girls had. That probably had something to do with her parents only feeding her enough for her to survive. She had to "maintain her figure" in order to be beautiful, according to her parents. If she was beautiful, she was an even better trophy to put on display.
She didn't find herself beautiful. But she certainly was skinny. And she had flawless skin, the result of tons of money thrown away on her parents part. Her feet were tiny, dainty, the result of unwanted ballet lessons every friday through sunday. Her hair had a perfect sheen to it, and it always fell down her back in gentle waves that people admired.
She could be beautiful, if it weren't for those eyes. If her eyes had even the slightest hint of life in them, she would consider herself beautiful. But they didn't. They just stared blankly at everything, looking without seeing.
Her boyfriend, Eric, said the same thing. Eric and Elizabeth did not love each other, and they both acknowledged that fact. The only reason they were together was because their parents wanted them to be. Eric was the heir to a massive fortune, and had consistently helped the school's mock trial team win nationals every year. He also helped the basketball team, football team, and soccer team, all while maintaining a 4.0 GPA. Elizabeth was the heir to a similar sized, though slightly smaller, fortune, and consistently won whatever literary, dancing, or singing competition she entered. She also took the Academic Decathalon team to nationals every year, all while maintaining a 4.13 GPA. Together, they made the perfect trophy couple to show off.
Eric's eyes had life in them. They were vibrant, teaming, even, with life and soul. He loved all the attention he got. His eyes shone whenever he got praise. He always said the worst thing about Elizabeth was her eyes. Whenever he looked into her eyes, he winced. Whenever they were seen in a picture, his face wore a smile, no matter how fake, and hers held nothing.
She was tired of being a doll. She was sick of being shown off. She just wanted to be able to live for once.
Only problem is, I don't know how, she though stoically as she turned away from the girl in the mirror and continued to her room.
Elizabeth sipped from the champagne glass filled with sparkling cider as she listened to her parents drone on and on about the same things they always did. Business, money, and their perfect daughter who always obeyed and followed their every whim. Bragging was what they did best. If they weren't able to brag, Elizabeth was sure they would slowly whither away to nothing. Their ability to listen to their own voices for hours never ceased to amaze her.
Elizabeth was nothing more than a doll. She was moved around limply by her parents, without the vocal box to protest. She wasn't a mute, but she might as well be. No matter how loudly she screamed she didn't want to do something, she ended up doing it anyways. She was a doll for her parents to dress up and show off to all their friends like giddy little girls with their barbies. Perfect little Elizabeth, the trophy, the doll, the masterpiece.
Elizabeth hated being perfect. She hated that getting an A- led to her being grounded for a month, a B or lower for three. She hated that every time she wore clothes that did not consist of a frilly dress or skirt, her parents sneered and made her go to bed without dinner. She wanted so badly to breathe in a breath of fresh air and scream at her parents "FUCK YOU!" But she remained silent and let them parade her around. Rebelling only made things worse, as she had found out the hard way.
All of the people gathered at the table at something her parents said. She couldn't bring herself to laugh with them. She wasn't a good actress, and she wasn't very good at pretending she had the luxury of emotions. She couldn't show that she was anything but numb. Her face was far too honest for her own good.
The room seemed to suffocate Elizabeth as the laughs grew and grew, crashing against each other and against Elizabeth in a fantastic display of sound. But Elizabeth didn't react. Her face remained ever stoic and monotonous. Not even a single twitch.
"How is school going, Elizabeth?" a fat, balding business partner droned in his overly pretentious voice.
"It is going well," she replied in her quiet, raspy voice. It was raspy because it wasn't used often. "The classes are progressing rather quickly, but I try my best to keep up," she replied, modest as her parents always trained her to be.The more modest she was, the more impressive her force-fed feats seemed to everyone.
Elizabeth knew her life was less than normal. She knew that most parents saw their children as blessings and loved them dearly. She knew that to her parents, she was nothing but a trophy. Sometimes she wished and pleaded for her parents to love her, but other times she couldn't bring herself to feel enough emotion to care.
Elizabeth was excused from the dinner table, but still trapped there in spirit with bragging words from her parents. She walked upstairs to her room, the sounds of "She won first place in a poetry competition for the state" fading slightly. On the way to her room, she passed a mirror. For some reason, her body automatically paused and turned to look at it. She cocked her head slightly to the side as she examined the girl before her.
Her eyes were a deep chocolate, but they were vapid. Hollow. They were surely beautiful, but there was no depth or soul to them. Her body had no semblance of the curves all the other girls had. That probably had something to do with her parents only feeding her enough for her to survive. She had to "maintain her figure" in order to be beautiful, according to her parents. If she was beautiful, she was an even better trophy to put on display.
She didn't find herself beautiful. But she certainly was skinny. And she had flawless skin, the result of tons of money thrown away on her parents part. Her feet were tiny, dainty, the result of unwanted ballet lessons every friday through sunday. Her hair had a perfect sheen to it, and it always fell down her back in gentle waves that people admired.
She could be beautiful, if it weren't for those eyes. If her eyes had even the slightest hint of life in them, she would consider herself beautiful. But they didn't. They just stared blankly at everything, looking without seeing.
Her boyfriend, Eric, said the same thing. Eric and Elizabeth did not love each other, and they both acknowledged that fact. The only reason they were together was because their parents wanted them to be. Eric was the heir to a massive fortune, and had consistently helped the school's mock trial team win nationals every year. He also helped the basketball team, football team, and soccer team, all while maintaining a 4.0 GPA. Elizabeth was the heir to a similar sized, though slightly smaller, fortune, and consistently won whatever literary, dancing, or singing competition she entered. She also took the Academic Decathalon team to nationals every year, all while maintaining a 4.13 GPA. Together, they made the perfect trophy couple to show off.
Eric's eyes had life in them. They were vibrant, teaming, even, with life and soul. He loved all the attention he got. His eyes shone whenever he got praise. He always said the worst thing about Elizabeth was her eyes. Whenever he looked into her eyes, he winced. Whenever they were seen in a picture, his face wore a smile, no matter how fake, and hers held nothing.
She was tired of being a doll. She was sick of being shown off. She just wanted to be able to live for once.
Only problem is, I don't know how, she though stoically as she turned away from the girl in the mirror and continued to her room.
♠ ♠ ♠
I started a contest!!!! Please enter it. You guys are the ones I most want to see enter this contest. This "story" is where all of my best writing goes towards, and those of you who read this clearly appreciate things such as metaphors, similes, and literary devices many people on mibba don't seem to know exist. So... I really want to see what YOU can write! Please! :D993 words.