FINE CHINA DOLLS
By ButtercupSaiyan (buttercupsaiyajin@yahoo.com)
It's a fine Sunday morning, yes, a fine Sunday, don't you think? The sun shines so prettily through the windows! Yes, and there they are, like fine little China dolls, all lined up in a row over there. Blushing prettily, their hair bobbed and curled, with red-lipped smiles plastered on their faces, and their large glassy eyes, and those lovely expensive silk dresses, all lined with lace. Oh, yes, I agree, proper Sunday dresses. But maybe a bit much, don't you think? They look like little princesses, members of some sort of aristocracy ...
If you went farther along, you might hear a little more ... yes ... there. That nice family over there, perhaps?
I'm just saying, it's a little odd. Those cute little girls with no mother in sight. I think it's a bit peculiar for an older man to be raising three impressionable young girls alone, without a mother. Dear? You don't suppose they're ... that sort of children, do you, dear?
For godsake, your own children are staring at you. Be quiet, you, and stop imagining things. Fellow's got enough to worry about, raising three kids, without a nosy housewife with the vapors breathing down his neck. Listen to the music.
Yes, magnificent. The organ notes swell and rise in anticipation before softening to a murmur. A choir of children trudges down the aisle to take small candles. Their voices lift uncertainly at first, in the opening words to a hymn, before coming into harmony. People are standing up and smiling, maybe even humming to themselves a little. More voices lift up. A fine morning, full of promise.
Hey! Hey? Don't we know those kids from school somewhere? No, not up there, over there. Yeah. Them. Don't they look kinda familiar? No? Oh, I thought I'd recognized 'em, but I guess I was wrong. Hey, don't worry, bro', once they screech a couple more tunes, we'll be out of here. What, mom? Okay, mom ... yeah, bro, I heard they'll be serving cookies too ... Whoa! Sorry, mom!
Outside the building, a few volunteers are shuffling through books, or looking at their watches. A few are singing softly as they set up trays of food, and, yes, baskets of cookies. One old man has relaxed against a tree, watching the large double doors. Maybe he's a bit too old to be out here on a Sunday, but then, maybe, he has nowhere else to go. He gets up, and stealthily filches a cookie from the basket, turning away and chewing it slowly, cupping the forbidden treasure in his hands.
The hymns have broken to the expectant mumbling of a large crowd, and the double doors part. A friendly man holds the door open for the mass of people, and shakes their hands, smiling, and giving a quick, personal word as they leave.
And also be with you ... Oh, yes, good to see you, Margeret! And how are you, Willie? And you, sir, Mr. ... I don't believe I caught your name? Professor? Yes, Professor ... ? What's your name, sir? Yes, well, have a fine day, Professor. Your little girls look lovely. Your welcome.
The man nods, and puts gentle hands on the shoulders of two of his girls, guiding them to some destination. The building was very cold, and hot air explodes onto them. The sun warms them and baths them in the heat of the summer. Several small, brown lizards skitter across the sidewalk where they had been enjoying the heat. There ... ah ... something seems to cross the face of one of the children, a flicker ... yes ... no, you missed it.
The car is right here. The door is opened, and one of the girls crawls inside. There is a moment of tension between the last two, before the blonde seats herself in the middle. The last one takes her seat, and the car is started with a rumble. It pulls away from the sidewalk, and disappears down the road.
We're here, girls. Yes, you can go out and play. The three children dash inside, stiff dresses coming off to be left in piled heaps in the hallway and on the bedroom floor, and old clothing gathered out of drawers. There is a pattering on the stairs ... be back by six-o-clock, girls! ... and a slam at the front door.
Down the road, right at the intersection, around the corner and past the lake overgrown with underbrush, down the dirt road. Small dust clouds behind them, wheel treads cutting a path through the orange sand as they race on their bikes. Pedal faster, harder! Harder up that hill! I'm winning! You all can eat my dust!
Battle cries. Not on your life! Not a chance! Hair whipping in a disarray, legs a blur of motion, the other two girls pull up. Their breath is taxed, this show of physical prowess a new sport to them. But they have arrived at their destination, and a victory cry is sounded. We're here! We're here! We're finally here!
They dash down the sandy orange path until it is overtaken by high grass, and through the trees bearing green apples. This place is thickly wooded with trees, but the grove-pickers have all gone. The only thing left on the trees is tiny, tart little fruits. The girls know that, soon, these will mature into tasty apples that they can eat.
The girls come to the stream near the orchard. The trees on both sides screen it from view, and they left the few houses nearby far behind. This is their spot. They whisper quietly amongst themselves, here in their special place by the stream. The air is very hot, but the water is cool enough. They take off their clothes, and slip into the water, giggling with forbidden delight.
They soak in the water, scaring away small fish who were hiding in the reeds. Hey, want to play mermaids? Sure, and I'll be the mermaid princess! The blonde dives beneath the water with a laugh.
One of the sisters is still by the shore. She dips her dark hair in the water, getting it wet before her sisters can do her the favor. An evil sea monster is lurking nearby, but the sister mermaids have no idea, since this is a small stream. The misplaced creature comes upon them, wrapping its small limbs around the foot of one of the mermaids, and dragging her under. The redhead goes down with a gasp.
The struggle resumes, causing the water to froth. The other mermaid looks around, and the identity of the evil sea monster is revealed when it surfaces and transforms into her small, dark-haired sister. But the redhead has surfaced and seeks to vanquish her opponent! They go under once more.
The little blonde watches from the bank, peering into the water. They have been down there for a very long time, and the water is murky. The redhead emerges, victorious, and the corpse of the monster is still. It is laid by the side of the stream, and the girls crowd around it, watching it. They think that, perhaps, it is a trick.
But it is too still - and there is an ugly bruise developing on her forehead. The girls erupt into action, yelling. The girl is rolled onto her stomach, her back pounded, her body shook. She coughs and awakens. Yes, she is fine, can you leave her alone now, please? You! The last of the water is coughed in the face of the redhead.
A smooth motion, hand across face. A long moment, but then it is gone. Maybe, we should go back home. Yes, that sounds about right. Let's get dressed, I'm cold now! Home ... but we must wait for our hair to dry in the sun. Yes. Wait.
It is a very quiet morning, today. Old clothing, matted with dirt and grass, is put on again. They get on their bikes, and time is agonizing. Down the road, past the lake, are you okay? I'm fine, you're fine, she's fine. Left at the intersection, down the road, and home again in short time. I'm sorry. Let's forget it. We won't go there anymore.
The man is surprised as they walk in the door, early. How was he to know they left the house girls, and came back young women?
By ButtercupSaiyan (buttercupsaiyajin@yahoo.com)
It's a fine Sunday morning, yes, a fine Sunday, don't you think? The sun shines so prettily through the windows! Yes, and there they are, like fine little China dolls, all lined up in a row over there. Blushing prettily, their hair bobbed and curled, with red-lipped smiles plastered on their faces, and their large glassy eyes, and those lovely expensive silk dresses, all lined with lace. Oh, yes, I agree, proper Sunday dresses. But maybe a bit much, don't you think? They look like little princesses, members of some sort of aristocracy ...
If you went farther along, you might hear a little more ... yes ... there. That nice family over there, perhaps?
I'm just saying, it's a little odd. Those cute little girls with no mother in sight. I think it's a bit peculiar for an older man to be raising three impressionable young girls alone, without a mother. Dear? You don't suppose they're ... that sort of children, do you, dear?
For godsake, your own children are staring at you. Be quiet, you, and stop imagining things. Fellow's got enough to worry about, raising three kids, without a nosy housewife with the vapors breathing down his neck. Listen to the music.
Yes, magnificent. The organ notes swell and rise in anticipation before softening to a murmur. A choir of children trudges down the aisle to take small candles. Their voices lift uncertainly at first, in the opening words to a hymn, before coming into harmony. People are standing up and smiling, maybe even humming to themselves a little. More voices lift up. A fine morning, full of promise.
Hey! Hey? Don't we know those kids from school somewhere? No, not up there, over there. Yeah. Them. Don't they look kinda familiar? No? Oh, I thought I'd recognized 'em, but I guess I was wrong. Hey, don't worry, bro', once they screech a couple more tunes, we'll be out of here. What, mom? Okay, mom ... yeah, bro, I heard they'll be serving cookies too ... Whoa! Sorry, mom!
Outside the building, a few volunteers are shuffling through books, or looking at their watches. A few are singing softly as they set up trays of food, and, yes, baskets of cookies. One old man has relaxed against a tree, watching the large double doors. Maybe he's a bit too old to be out here on a Sunday, but then, maybe, he has nowhere else to go. He gets up, and stealthily filches a cookie from the basket, turning away and chewing it slowly, cupping the forbidden treasure in his hands.
The hymns have broken to the expectant mumbling of a large crowd, and the double doors part. A friendly man holds the door open for the mass of people, and shakes their hands, smiling, and giving a quick, personal word as they leave.
And also be with you ... Oh, yes, good to see you, Margeret! And how are you, Willie? And you, sir, Mr. ... I don't believe I caught your name? Professor? Yes, Professor ... ? What's your name, sir? Yes, well, have a fine day, Professor. Your little girls look lovely. Your welcome.
The man nods, and puts gentle hands on the shoulders of two of his girls, guiding them to some destination. The building was very cold, and hot air explodes onto them. The sun warms them and baths them in the heat of the summer. Several small, brown lizards skitter across the sidewalk where they had been enjoying the heat. There ... ah ... something seems to cross the face of one of the children, a flicker ... yes ... no, you missed it.
The car is right here. The door is opened, and one of the girls crawls inside. There is a moment of tension between the last two, before the blonde seats herself in the middle. The last one takes her seat, and the car is started with a rumble. It pulls away from the sidewalk, and disappears down the road.
We're here, girls. Yes, you can go out and play. The three children dash inside, stiff dresses coming off to be left in piled heaps in the hallway and on the bedroom floor, and old clothing gathered out of drawers. There is a pattering on the stairs ... be back by six-o-clock, girls! ... and a slam at the front door.
Down the road, right at the intersection, around the corner and past the lake overgrown with underbrush, down the dirt road. Small dust clouds behind them, wheel treads cutting a path through the orange sand as they race on their bikes. Pedal faster, harder! Harder up that hill! I'm winning! You all can eat my dust!
Battle cries. Not on your life! Not a chance! Hair whipping in a disarray, legs a blur of motion, the other two girls pull up. Their breath is taxed, this show of physical prowess a new sport to them. But they have arrived at their destination, and a victory cry is sounded. We're here! We're here! We're finally here!
They dash down the sandy orange path until it is overtaken by high grass, and through the trees bearing green apples. This place is thickly wooded with trees, but the grove-pickers have all gone. The only thing left on the trees is tiny, tart little fruits. The girls know that, soon, these will mature into tasty apples that they can eat.
The girls come to the stream near the orchard. The trees on both sides screen it from view, and they left the few houses nearby far behind. This is their spot. They whisper quietly amongst themselves, here in their special place by the stream. The air is very hot, but the water is cool enough. They take off their clothes, and slip into the water, giggling with forbidden delight.
They soak in the water, scaring away small fish who were hiding in the reeds. Hey, want to play mermaids? Sure, and I'll be the mermaid princess! The blonde dives beneath the water with a laugh.
One of the sisters is still by the shore. She dips her dark hair in the water, getting it wet before her sisters can do her the favor. An evil sea monster is lurking nearby, but the sister mermaids have no idea, since this is a small stream. The misplaced creature comes upon them, wrapping its small limbs around the foot of one of the mermaids, and dragging her under. The redhead goes down with a gasp.
The struggle resumes, causing the water to froth. The other mermaid looks around, and the identity of the evil sea monster is revealed when it surfaces and transforms into her small, dark-haired sister. But the redhead has surfaced and seeks to vanquish her opponent! They go under once more.
The little blonde watches from the bank, peering into the water. They have been down there for a very long time, and the water is murky. The redhead emerges, victorious, and the corpse of the monster is still. It is laid by the side of the stream, and the girls crowd around it, watching it. They think that, perhaps, it is a trick.
But it is too still - and there is an ugly bruise developing on her forehead. The girls erupt into action, yelling. The girl is rolled onto her stomach, her back pounded, her body shook. She coughs and awakens. Yes, she is fine, can you leave her alone now, please? You! The last of the water is coughed in the face of the redhead.
A smooth motion, hand across face. A long moment, but then it is gone. Maybe, we should go back home. Yes, that sounds about right. Let's get dressed, I'm cold now! Home ... but we must wait for our hair to dry in the sun. Yes. Wait.
It is a very quiet morning, today. Old clothing, matted with dirt and grass, is put on again. They get on their bikes, and time is agonizing. Down the road, past the lake, are you okay? I'm fine, you're fine, she's fine. Left at the intersection, down the road, and home again in short time. I'm sorry. Let's forget it. We won't go there anymore.
The man is surprised as they walk in the door, early. How was he to know they left the house girls, and came back young women?