Consider that toy in the shop. It looks ordinary. The wool is real, there are no components inside it. The doll is a real doll. But consider that the doll is not real. The doll does exist yes. But is it a doll? That doll is not a doll it's a being. It looks like a doll because it was turned into a doll. That doll was once a human being. Well an alien but still a being. That doll before he was a doll called himself a name. A name that echo though out the universe, that name is the doctor.
Doctor who
Toy dolls
by
E.P. Port
Welcome to Oliver's. It's a small shop in the town of tallins. It's an antique shop specializing in antique dolls, a sort of doll hospital and adoption center. Rich clients would purchase the mannequins and would occasionally come-by for a 'check-up' of the priceless irreplaceable darlings. The majority of the clientele are middle aged man and woman who have no life what so ever part form the dolls and the minority are rich parent who just want their kids to shut-up and leave them alone to prepare for an important business meeting with the Korean ambassador. Yet, a sub minority of the clientele is a girl. Well, she's not even a clientele. She never bought not even a single button nor set foot inside the dusty little shop. Her name is Maria. And every day after school, without fail, would come to the store and gaze upon the beautiful dolls hang from the windows, looking so fragile and pretty. Their smiles would tease the little girl. Their warm pinkish cheeks would always give her warmth and love. And the one thing she ever wanted on the eight years of her life is to get one of those cute charming toy dolls.
Of course, this would not happen. Their family could not afford the expensive dolls hanging by the window. Her mom work as a chamber maid in the local spa and her dad bets her mom money on horse but she doesn't mind. 'We would always get by' that what her mom always says and if in fact they do, barely, but they do. She has a loving sister and a brat for a brother. She admires her sister daily while she brushes and painting her face for work. She stares at her like the dolls she sees in the shop. But her brother annoys her often that faintest Hmp! Or giggle from him would send nerves down her spine. So, this is what she can afford for now, a five minute glare at Oliver's and then straight home.
Mr. Oliver has seen the girl for quite a while. She would always arrive at the same time. She would stare at the dolls for exactly for five minutes and would leave. He didn't mind, if fact it, was highlight of his day. He loves making dolls. He loves how soft and warm their faces could be and how the wool body touches his wrinkled skin. Too bad he has to meet adult, adult with coffee in one hand and cell phone in the other, Adults that never smile or even a give a sign of happiness, Adults that complain with such anger in his shop if the dolls did not meet their standers, Adults that don't even play with dolls who keep them in glass boxes never to be played by any little children, to be only admired in a distance.
Today, he had enough. He is full of the adults. If one child can play with one of his toys, in his mind, he has won. But what toy? Surely a missing toy would make his consumers angry. His clientele are has too much invested in their doll that even a crack in the porcelain face would send his life crashing like a deck of card. he thinks of the repercussions of his rebellion. And for an old man, it's very hard with all the memory loss and all. Then, he saw the doll. I had been laying there since the winter and no one, not even an assistant or a courier, had pick it up. He took the doll and inspected it. The doll was no in his book. There was no tag to identify the doll. And if Mr. Oliver would recall, has never seen the doll. ever. He tried to recall the dolls owner or even an address. He even looked back at the shelf to give him a clue of the doll origins but not luck. The doll belongs no one, it came from nowhere and even nowhen. 'Oh well!' He thought. 'At least you would get a proper owner. Someone who take care of you and name you…' He glanced at the window and the girl was gone. Hasty, he took a bag, stuff the doll and ran fast as he can. And mind you, for a man his age a run is not a good idea. He shouted her but she did not look back or acknowledged the shouting. MR. Oliver thought it was the wind or that he isn't shouting that hard. But eventually, the toymaker caught up with the girl.
Maria was frightened. She was touched, A touch not from her mother nor her sister nor her brother. A touch so unfamiliar it sends shivers in her spine and shock in skin. She turned around slowly, facing her predator. She looks straight at the stranger, it's the man at the shop. The man wore his familiar clothes, a green vest, white shirt and brown pants. It was unflattering but that was the toymakers style. The toymaker grinned but Maria became more frightened of the toymaker. His white hair and long beard made him look devilish. He presented the bag 'here!' he said. 'A gift…..from a friend.' Maria reluctantly reaches for the bag but cannot make her trust the toymaker. Her mother said never to trust a Stranger and the fact the toymaker was a stranger, a man she did not know nor known by her mother or brother. Maybe her sister but that might not be a possibility. The toymaker insisted her to take the bag. But he saw that look in the little girl face. That look of fear that even the heartless of men would not want to see. So, a compromise, he drop the bag and left.
The man walked away, never to be seen. Maria was confused. Her she is standing froze in the middle of the street with a bag front for her that was given by the man she sees at the shop. At first, she taught of missing children being taken from their family and friends never to return. Then, she taught of the gift. If her logic was right, the man was a toymaker. The gift is given by the man. Therefore, the gift is a toy. She took the bag and went straight home.
Maria lived A the six floor of a large apartment complex near the train station. Their home was a three bedroom flat with only one bath. She and sister share a room but some nights she would sleep in hotel room. So Maria would have the room for herself. Her brother has his own room but would constantly come to her room and annoy her to the point that she asks her mother to make another brother for her brother so he can leave her alone. It was a nice proposition but her mother declined.
She hurried to the house straight to her room locked the door and sat in the floor. She savored opening the bag. Slowly taking the wrappings that hides the present. She took the doll away from the confindes of the bag and was a bit uneasy. The doll was made of wool. It had a noticeable big head and flabby little are. I wore a bow tie and tweed like jacket. The face only had a pair of beady eyes, No nose or mouth in sight which made it look cute for some reason.
Maria was disappointed. She wanted one of the dolls from the shop. The shiny angelic like dolls that were hanging in the store. But alas, she was given 'scrap'. Then again, mom always says that gifts are stuff people give because they need to or they just don't need it. She was given the runt of the litter. But that is okay. A gift is a gift even if it's not what you want.
The next day, Maria sat in the kitchen table, her mom cooking bacon and eggs and her sister sleeping in front of her, still hangover from her job. She looked at the doll and realized that she never gave it a name. But what name? 'Mr. big head' is too obvious and scuffles' was too vague. He looks silly with the tie and all, like Mr. Bean. So it is settled, she'll name it - Mr. Bean
'Time to go to school' her mother said. With a kiss from her mother and a weak hug from her sister, she was off in a hurry. Mind you, she wasn't this excited to go to school. Not in a million years would she jump out her seat and run out the door. It would be more like mimicking the action of a slug. Maria was truthfully distasted school. But she wanted to show her toy doll to everyone and anyone. She was proud of it, Even if it looked like stupid.
It is not a school. It is a concrete box. There are neither playgrounds nor a large quadrangle to signify the existence of educational institution. There are no colored drawings of children or animals or anything on the walls. Not even a stroke of beige. The walls are bear and the florescent lights shine weirdly that feels it is suck the life out of you, slowly, but surely.
Maria sat on the backest and cornerest of all seats. She was a shy girl. She was smart, on paper. But make her speak, and the even the static from the tv wound have much to say. They thought she was deft. But the doctors can't find anything wrong with her. She is so shy that silence spoke more than her.
I was a bit early, so she was alone. She was bored. She took the doll out and admired the doll. It grew on her. Mr. Bean did look a bit more dashing with prolong exposure. And with that prolong exposure came love. She stared at the beady eyes of doll, admiring the craftsmanship of the toymaker. If fact, she stared at its beady for so long, she though it blinked. Now, for a sane person would thing that it was just a caution of the brain to spot staring at thing. But it was a little girl. She wound not interpret this as some kind of illusion. She will think, out of imagination that this doll was in-fact alive. But, like a bushfire, imagination runs wild. She tried to look at the doll more closely but she was interrupted. The doll was swiftly taken by the head by a very big girl.
Her name was Suzanna. And she doesn't belong her.