The Smith's

Delicately tucking a blond curl behind one of her doll’s ears, Abigail Smith smiled softly. She sat now in her playroom, having tea and crumpets with all her toys.

     “Mo-ah tea Miss Lin-dahh?” She drawled in her best Elizabeth Taylor impression.  Her favourite doll Linda sat across from her at the tea table in the playroom her Daddy had built just for her.

     With its pink frosting walls and creamy white linens, it was easily Abigail’s favorite room in their large home. She wished she could show a friend her playroom, but Daddy said she had to keep it secret if she wanted to keep playing.

     Well, all of that was perfectly fine with Abigail. After all, it seemed quite fair. Her Daddy would bring her a new doll each week, and all she had to do was remember to lock the basement door when she was done playing.

     Using a soft pink handkerchief, Abigail dabbed gently at the corner of Linda’s stitched mouth.

     Silly Linda, always making a mess of herself.

     After tea, it time for dress up. All of her dolls had been dressed in their Sunday best for tea time, but Linda, as the newest edition, got to wear the prettiest dress in Abigail’s wardrobe.

     After pulling on the lacy pink frock, Abigail marveled at Linda’s beauty, forgetting all about the tantrum she had thrown last week when her Daddy had taken Rosie away.

     Rosie was Abigail’s favoritest doll of all time. However, much to Abigail’s dismay, Rosie had begun to break just like all her other dolls did. Her dresses hung too loosely, and her hair lost its shine. Daddy had to take her away, just like how he took all of her dolls. It was ok though, ‘cause Abigail still got a new doll every single week, each one prettier than the last.

     When Daddy had surprised Abigail with Linda, Abigail thought she would faint with happiness. She was absolutely beautiful. Linda had long, thick blonde hair and pierced ears, and if Abigail could see her eyes, she knew they would be the purest blue.

     Once Linda was all dressed, Abigail sat her down beside Brittany, (who had been Abigail’s favourite doll two weeks ago.)  When all of her dolls were all dressed and in their seats, Abigail snapped a quick photo using the Polaroid camera Daddy had bought her last Christmas. Daddy didn’t know she did this, but Abigail liked keeping track of each new addition to her doll family.

     “Puuurrrfeeccttt,” she smiled when the photograph slipped out of the camera. Shaking the milky film from the picture, she grinned as the image began to show. She was just about to snap another one when she heard a call from upstairs.

     “Miss Abigail!” Her nanny Gladys hollered from the top of the stairs, “It’s time for your bath young lady!”

     Abigail pouted. She wanted to play with Linda some more, but she knew Daddy would be very upset if Gladys wandered downstairs and saw her playroom. She knew it was her special surprise and no one else’s.

     Ducking down to plant a quick kiss on Linda’s cold cheek, Abigail skipped out of the room, locking the door behind her.



     That night, as Abigail lay in bed, she smiled contentedly. Nighttime is when her dolls hummed songs to her.

     She heard it faintly, but heard it she did. The sounds of sewn together lips, all mumbling the same pitiful cry.

Hrrmph. Mrrrph. Hrrrrmphhh. Mrrrrphh.

Help me.

Help me.

Help me.