Athazagoraphobia: The Anguish of the Doll
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..........A china doll sits on its shelf, one painted eye beginning to flake away, many a part of her chipped, and cob webs arcing between her and the walls, a lacy kind of restraint. A child reaches for it, but the doll shies away, wrapping herself up in the cobwebs. The shadows hide her from the rest of the world, and from her dusky vantage point, she can see most of the toy store. The outstretched hand changes course, just as quickly snatching up the pink teddy-bear that is two shelves down from her, not even recognizing the fact that it had previously been wanting after the doll in the gingham dress tucked away in the corner. A quiver rocks its way through her fragile body, as she repeats ‘she didn’t notice me’ over and over, a mantra that she begins to believe as she calms herself. She turns her vision away from the store, and all the happy children picking out toys. Her tiny china hands twist as best they can in her knee-length skirt, playing with the white hem that covers the bottom of the red and white fabric of the dress. Alexa suddenly comes to mind, and she feels the fear coming back. ‘She forgot me. She abandoned me. Just like I thought she would. And then, then she replaced me.’ The doll whispers inside her head. She shakes with fear, drawing her knees up to her chest and burying her face in her hands. She is so terrified she doesn’t even care she’s flashing the tin soldier at the other end of the shelf a good view of her starched knickers. He, being a gentleman, looks away. She has always been an odd one, it is best to leave her be.
..........Suddenly, she growls, a soft, ominous sound that makes the tin soldier inch farther down the shelf. ‘She forgot me! She abandoned me! She replaced me! How dare she!’ The doll rises, breaking free of the shadows and the cobwebs as her mind roars these ferociously angry words, so loud she can almost hear it echoing about her head. Her vision blurs as her anger intensifies, almost to the point that it feels like it is burning her up inside. She can almost feel her china limbs cracking, her cloth body bursting into flame, her painted face running down to stain her dress. A nearby child looks up and sees the doll who is now standing in a ray of sunlight the window carelessly casts to the dark recesses of the store, and begins to call to her mother, the customary ‘gimme, gimme’ cry of a toy-hunting child. The doll gasps, and falls once more back into her corner, burrowing under her cobwebs, as she curls into a tight ball. ‘She was just talking about the soldier, just the soldier. She didn’t see me, she doesn’t know about me so she can’t abandon me, or ignore me, or replace me!’ She rocks back and forth, tightly clutching at her legs.
..........Her rage and fear settle as the minutes pass, and they give way to grief as these emotions so often do. As the toymaker closes his shop up for the night, she remains curled up in the corner, her sorrow overpowering her as she gently rocks, back and forth, back and forth. And there she remains, as the sun sets and the moon rises.
..........In a nearby college dorm room, Alexa pats a teddy bear on the head, smiling at the recent acquisition from her fiancé, before laying down to sleep. As she looks out the window and sees the rising moon, her thoughts drift for a moment to the gingham clad doll that she used to love so much. But they do not stick, assuming that the toymaker, as he promised, had already found her childhood companion a new home. The night passes as any other, the silver moon arcing across the sky, the same moon that is illuminating the anguish of the doll.
..........Suddenly, she growls, a soft, ominous sound that makes the tin soldier inch farther down the shelf. ‘She forgot me! She abandoned me! She replaced me! How dare she!’ The doll rises, breaking free of the shadows and the cobwebs as her mind roars these ferociously angry words, so loud she can almost hear it echoing about her head. Her vision blurs as her anger intensifies, almost to the point that it feels like it is burning her up inside. She can almost feel her china limbs cracking, her cloth body bursting into flame, her painted face running down to stain her dress. A nearby child looks up and sees the doll who is now standing in a ray of sunlight the window carelessly casts to the dark recesses of the store, and begins to call to her mother, the customary ‘gimme, gimme’ cry of a toy-hunting child. The doll gasps, and falls once more back into her corner, burrowing under her cobwebs, as she curls into a tight ball. ‘She was just talking about the soldier, just the soldier. She didn’t see me, she doesn’t know about me so she can’t abandon me, or ignore me, or replace me!’ She rocks back and forth, tightly clutching at her legs.
..........Her rage and fear settle as the minutes pass, and they give way to grief as these emotions so often do. As the toymaker closes his shop up for the night, she remains curled up in the corner, her sorrow overpowering her as she gently rocks, back and forth, back and forth. And there she remains, as the sun sets and the moon rises.
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..........In a nearby college dorm room, Alexa pats a teddy bear on the head, smiling at the recent acquisition from her fiancé, before laying down to sleep. As she looks out the window and sees the rising moon, her thoughts drift for a moment to the gingham clad doll that she used to love so much. But they do not stick, assuming that the toymaker, as he promised, had already found her childhood companion a new home. The night passes as any other, the silver moon arcing across the sky, the same moon that is illuminating the anguish of the doll.