The Porcelain Doll

There was darkness at first. I could only feel as rough, calloused hands brushed against my porcelain body. It was at that moment I was born. Created. Alive. I was passed from hand to hand, calloused palms, one always different from the last.

And then I could see. And I could hear and smell. But there was still dark. There was noise, clinking of porcelain as my sisters were passed along as well. The clanking of metal contraptions. One after the other, we continued in the line, on our Journey. I blinked, and my eyes adjusted. I saw little, next to none.

I moved down the line and I saw one. A man, his eyes were green and sad. His hands were calloused; his touch was gentle as he dressed me in a white dress. I watched as he put on my socks and shoes and looked at me. I wanted to say something, to help. He then finished dressing me and I put the thought in my mind, a goal now, that I must achieve, whether I die or not. I must help him somehow, make him happy.

He put me in a box, lined with a cloth, it was soft and warm. I realized I was leaving the man and I felt sad. He put the top on the box and handed me to a woman. She walked a while, the bouncing steps repetitive. The woman put me in another box. That box closed and I felt a vibrating. Then the ground seemed to move and I was shaken slightly. "Where am I going?" I wondered aloud, the first time I heard my own voice. The warm, soft cloth was comforting. The vibrating was soothing and I quickly fell asleep.

Ω∞β∞Ω

I woke up sometime later, though I didn't know the time, for it seems that in a dark box, time is nonexistent. I realized that the vibrating stopped. I regained my senses slowly, but then my box was grabbed and it wasn't the woman, for the stride was wide and the footsteps were heavy. There were voices, muffled and odd.

The box became still. Then it opened overhead, the clear glass top letting the light through. I saw a man, one that was clean and looked proper, rich, even. His eyes were brown and his black hair was slicked back, out of his face. He was clean-shaven as well. His air was strict, but not mean. Then, he pulled my cloth-lined box out of the shipping box. The house, I saw, was bright and light-colored.

Tucking my box under his arm, he carried me upstairs. Then he knocked on a clean white door, the trim was painted with flowers. "Darling? Mary, are you there?" he inquired, his voice medium deep and was answered with a light, "Yes Father." Then the door opened and I saw the young girl, hands held in front of her, light yellow dress down to her ankles. A shy young thing, the type with the head in the clouds looks about her. He handed my box to his daughter, whose eyes lit up.

She took my box lightly in her fragile arms and ran to her bed, her run like floating, and her feet to light they seemed not to touch the ground. She set me on the bed, her pure blonde hair framing her face, her green eyes shining. She gently pulled the top of my cloth lined box open, hinges on its wooden side.

She gently lifted me out of the box and gazed at me in awe. She turned to her father and smiled. It was a beautiful smile, I saw, and I was glad I made her happy. Her mother walked up beside her father and her mother's blonde hair and green eyes made her seem identical, but her mother looked less fragile.

This young girl, Mary. She was overjoyed. She promised me, in her light, airy voice, that we would be best friends forever and that she would protect me. I was happy, and alive, and I made my first true friend. Mary.

Ω∞β∞Ω

I was sitting, Mary brushing my hair. I smiled softly. "How do you like Darcy for your name?" she asked me. We had been looking for my name for about two hours. Now, and the sun had long set. Mary shook her head sadly. "Would you like Dinah?" she questioned me. "Yes." I responded. She paused, mid-brushstroke, to think "Mary and Dinah." She mumbled dreamily. "Perfect." I smiled and she continued brushing.

Mary picked me up and carried me over to the looking-glass and I saw my long curly hair, colored a light brown. I saw my eyes as well, a dark blue, but not as dark as the night sky seen out of Mary's window, and they sparkled in the light of the lamp. My white dress looked more beautiful than what I had seen in the dark before.

I was reminded of the story Mary read to me during her reading and writing lessons. Alice Through the Looking-glass I think it was called. Mary told me that she had a cousin named Alice on her Mother's side of the family. She said that Alice was a year and eighteen weeks and six days older than her. She mentioned Alice was a bit eccentric and disappears for days on end. "She constantly talks about living chess pieces and talking hares. And often draws pictures of a fearsome creature on her lesson papers." She said. She has another cousin named Wendy on her father's side, who is "awfully obsessed with faeries and such, at least I like flowers like a normal girl rather than flying phenomena!"

I felt as though I were Alice, able to reach out and touch the person on the other side. "You look beautiful Dinah." Mary told me. Nothing could make me happier, though it thoroughly increased my ego. Then her mother called her down to supper and I was placed in front of a small doll-sized piano. "Do practice your scales now Dinah, while I go eat." And she was gone.

I looked at the ivory keys. I could play, really, I could. I just needed Mary to help me. So instead, I sat on the bench and looked around at the other dolls and toys. "Hey. Pssst!" someone hissed at me, "HEY!" I turned and looked over to a shelf. A lion sat there. He was well worn, his nose lost its pink color and some of his fur was falling out.

"You." He pointed one flat paw in my direction. I looked around and saw no one in my vicinity. I pointed at myself. "Yeah, you. I don't know you. What's your name?" he hissed again, as if stage-whispering. "Dinah." I responded, "And I shouldn't be talking to you!" I added scornfully. The lion huffed a little and muttered to himself about how he was going to help and how ungrateful new, younger toys are, handmade and such.

I felt guilty for my harsh attitude towards the lion, for he had been here so much longer than me. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so rude." The lion shrugged off my apology. "Think nothing of it, my friend. I won't be the next one talking." We heard Mary quietly pattered upstairs and the lion quieted and I turned back to face the piano. Mary entered, her shoes tapping on the wood floors. She picked me up and gave me a light hug. I smiled.

"We have to go to sleep now." Mary told me. She put me on the shelf above her bed. She changed into her white nightgown with embroidered flowers and lightly stepped into bed. Reaching over to turn off the lamp, she smiled up at me. She quietly settled back onto her pillow and fell asleep.

"Hello." I turned and looked at the rag doll next to me. The doll's red yarn hair, embroidered face and button eyes were sweet and she had a nice smile. She wore and white apron with a pocket and a blue flowered dress, sewn on red and white stockings, and even her shoes were sewn on.

I nodded to her. "Hello." She smiled wider somewhat, and I did believe she had the disability to frown. "You are new here, aren't you?" I nodded, not sure whether this doll was one I should talk to, because the Lion did not seem particularly friendly to me. She smiled even wider at my response, then, when she couldn't smile any wider, the smile shrunk. "I am Raggedy Ann. But you can just call me Ann." I smiled back at Ann. "I am Dinah." Ann smiled at me again. "Pleased to meet you Dinah."

I have another new friend. Raggedy Ann.

Ω∞β∞Ω

I lived for awhile as Mary's best friend. By Spring, we would go and have tea parties in her garden, the one hidden behind the tall brick wall overgrown with vines. We would say each other's names as "Miss Lennox" and "Miss Dinah", mostly because I don't have a last name. Ann joined us there sometimes. She loves the flowers.

Soon, Spring, Summer, and even Autumn, had passed and it was Winter, and after Mary and Ann went in the snow, I was still indoors, for Ann was warmer and I got to cold, Mary came indoors, Ann in hand, and I felt happy, for it was my turn because Mary's mother said only one Little Friend at a time.

Mary's face was red from cold and Ann was smiling bigger than ever. Mary's mother came over and handed Mary hot cocoa. Mary smiled at her and put Ann down next to me. "Are you cold?" I asked Ann. "No," she responded, "Dinah, I am not porcelain as you are." I nodded, and watched Mary as she gave her mother a kiss on the cheek and sit next to the fire in the grate.

Nothing could have made me happier. But had I known I would have been sad.

Ω∞β∞Ω

Mary's mother became ill and the next winter she called Mary into her room. Ann sat at Mary's mother's side, comforting her in her time of need. Mary took me with her, and when we were in her mother's room she set me down in her mother's arms next to Ann. Her mother looked delicate, like the porcelain I am made of, and it reminded me faintly of the Sad Man.

I saw how her nose was red and looked as if it were stuffed with roses, even though the rest of her skin, face and the rest of her body, were pale and white. She stroked my hair lightly, and then turned to Mary. "Thank you Mary, for lending me your Little Friends. They have kept me company. Ann, here, is really kind to me." Mary looked as if she were about to cry. Mary's mother motioned for her to come closer.

Mary stepped forward, her fragile body so racked with emotion it looked as if her legs were going to give out on her. Her mother tucked her blonde hair behind her ear. "Remember, Mary, Little Friends are important. They are loving and caring." She stroked my hair and hugged Ann closer and looked Mary in the eyes. "Take care of them." She whispered, then closed her eyes and seemed to sleep, like a doll whose eyes close when they leaned back. She was cold, like when I was left outdoors in the snow.

And suddenly, I heard Ann's soft crying. I could tell that the tears were absorbed by her cloth body, so no one could tell except if they heard, but Mary was wailing too loudly to tell. I knew I needed to help her. I needed to help Mary, Ann, and the Sad Man.

I felt terrified and sad and wondering what would happen to Mary's Mother now. Mary was comforted by Ann and me, and we hugged her and Ann used her apron to wipe Mary's tears. Servants came and told Mary to leave.

We all took one last look at the beautiful mother, whom we all loved. And she looked so much like the porcelain dolls she loved so much. I knew that she would be imprinted in my memory, as much as Ann's and Mary's.

Mary was sent to her room. We had tea and cake, made by the servants. But it was Deathly quiet, as it seemed Death himself joined us in our party. Mary went to sleep early, tired of crying. Ann sat beside me on the shelf and I hugged her as she cried. "Oh, Ann. It'll be okay." I said sadly. Ann was distraught and so were I and Mary

and even the old Lion. We heard Mary's father weeping like a willow after rain.

And it was times like this when we wished we weren't dolls.

Ω∞β∞Ω

Mary seemed to be growing sadder and sadder as time went on. She rarely slept and often cried. Fighting with her father made her angry and depressed. She quickly lost her living porcelain beauty. Her eyes were often red and puffy from crying and dark circles were under her eyes from lack of proper rest. Nightmares plagued her mind, when she finally fell asleep. She often refused food from servants and she grew thin. Her skin lost its healthy pink glow and grew pale from lack of sun. She grew more and more neglectful of herself. Her father begged her to eat, go outside and take care of herself.

But she refused. She talked to none but Ann, me, and other toys. She was angry at her father for letting her mother die. She knew of the money her father possessed and couldn't understand why he didn't try to help.

Mary didn't understand that her father couldn't hire the doctors because they already knew that there was nothing to be done. No cure, no way to help. Nothing.

And none till she would find an insane reason that would sate her anger at her father.

Ω∞β∞Ω

Mary grew angry at her father again, for they had fought once more. She stormed into her room as I sat quietly on the bed. She screamed her light voice to death, wailing tirelessly, she fell onto the bed, crying. I wanted to reach out and comfort her. She grew angry again, and screamed with her tired, cracking voice, furious questions into her comforter, the white pattern darkening in the puddle of tears it was absorbing.

She stood up and grabbed me, her hands no longer gentle as they had once been. She held me close, tears falling on my head. The dark night outside was quickly shattered by lightning, and rain fell hard upon the window.

The rain, it seemed, was Mary's sadness, the lightning, her anger, and the thunder, her voice. She watched the lightning. Heard the thunder, just as I did. The thunder, repetitively rolling. Mary fell to her knees before the window. Her eyes widening as the lightning struck. I saw her eyes, fearful, angry, dying inside and out.

The thunder rolled. Mary covered her ears, dropping me onto her lap. "Be quiet!" she yelled, squeezing her eyes shut. "Be quiet!" She opened her eyes, picked me up, and threw me out the window, the glass shattering. As I fell I thought of the Sad Man, and how I couldn't help him. I thought of Mary's mother and her love of porcelain dolls, and of me. Mary, how I couldn't help her. And Ann. I couldn't help Ann. And I can't do anything. It's all over.

Crash…

Ω∞β∞Ω

Mary looked out her window, eyes wide, at the shattered glass and the broken doll beneath her window. "No…" She whispered, "No!" She leaned out her window. "Dinah!" she yelled. She ran barefooted down the stairs and out the front door. The first time she had left her room in weeks, months, even.

Her feet squishing through the mud of the front lawn, her white nightdress getting soaked. She kneeled down beside the broken doll, the nightdress becoming dark with mud.

She looked down upon the broken doll, its arm cracked, head shattered, the glass eyes scattered like marbles, and the only large, solid piece of head still intact was that of where the head had hair, the curls getting soaked in the rain.

"Dinah." Mary sobbed, rain mixed with tears as they traveled in streams down her face. Mary picked the pieces of her beloved friend up, placing them in her nightdress as she carried them inside. She washed the pieces off in the wash basin in her room. She placed them on her bed and tried to find the ones that matched.

She ran and stole her father's glue and tried to be careful when she placed the interlocking pieces together. Hours later she finished, the eyes were put back in the head but only partially worked.

Mary cried loudly at the loss of her friend. The doll was still missing pieces out of her face and the arm was sealed with glue. And Dinah was dead. Ann knew that best, for when she called to Dinah, there was no answer.

Mary took her footstool and reached to the top of her closet, where she took down the box Dinah came to her in. She went to her desk and wrote a small sign and hung it around

Dinah's neck with a ribbon. She covered the glass front of the box with black felt on the inside. Then she placed Dinah inside and closed it. She went back downstairs and found the shipping boxes her Father used often and put Dinah's box in the shipping box.

Sealing it up, she labeled it with the company's address and set it next to the door for the mailman to take in the morning.

By the time Mary woke up the next day and ran downstairs, the box was gone.

Ω∞β∞Ω

The box arrived at the Doll Factory later that same day. Workers who took the dolls being returned unpacked Dinah and put her box to the side. No one really noticed the black felt, the type of funeral casket or coffin that she tried to recreate.

The workers continued on with their unpacking, passing boxes onto the stacks. A passing worker took one of the boxes, Dinah's box; because dolls can sometimes be recycled and used for their intact parts and the broken are thrown away. But some dolls are given to the workers who have children.

The worker took the box to a man with green, sad eyes. He looked at the worker, who placed Dinah's black felt covered box in front of him. "Have a good day Mark." The worker told him and walked away.

Mark tucked the box gently under his arm and went home.

Ω∞β∞Ω

Mark walked into the door of his house and barely closed the door behind him before his daughter attached herself to his legs.

Mark walked into the door of his house and barely closed the door behind him before his daughter attached herself to his legs. "Daddy!" she yelled, smiling widely. Her light brown hair a tad messy and her patched dress askew.

Mark patted her head. "Hello Darlyne." He smiled at her, a sweet smile. "I have something for you." Darlyne's big green eyes widened and she jumped up and down. "What is it, Daddy, what is it?"

Mark showed her the box. And she quickly took it from him, carrying it over to the table. She stood on the chair and opened the box. Darlyne smiled as she pulled Dinah out. Dinah's sign around her neck read, "My name is Dinah."

Darlyne hugged Dinah, who would never feel it. Mark smiled, truly

happy. Dinah would never know that her goal was finally achieved. She made the Sad Man happy.

Darlyne ran to her small room and put Dinah on her shelf next to scrap dolls, a bear that was losing stuffing, and a rubber ball covered in tape to prevent it from losing air. Darlyne grinned at Dinah happily. "Welcome home Dinah!" she cried out happily.

But Dinah didn't hear.

The End