She wasn't a person, or an animal. She was sometimes a thought, but more over anything, Jane was a noun. Noun could've meant she was a person, but in her heart, Jane felt she was a person. She knew she was, especially once she knew what it was like to be loved, and to be touched by another. Jane, was not like normal nouns, yes, you could find her in a toy store if you looked hard enough. Yes, you could find her in a little girls' bedroom. And yes, you could sometimes find them in the garbage, discarded from the children who did not care, or just chose not to.
Jane was a doll, not like the Barbie doll that was plastic with long flowing blond hair and the trendy fashion clothes. Jane was a porcelain doll. Her clothes were quite outdated and from the victorian age. No one could love her, even if they knew she existed and did, in fact, lay inside a cobweb infested trunk upstairs of the old lady's house. She was old and worn, like the dolls and the trash, and quite unloved. Jane felt if no one could love her, then there was no reason to love any other in return.
Months had passed. One Friday evening, in the dead of night, the old lady died of heart attack. Now it was necessary for the woman to be taken away, and a new family to move in. Did anyone know of the attic and all of the treasures inside? Not at first. Inside the apartment, a small girl, only the age of seven, had just moved in. She too, had not known much love. Sure Mother and Father did make a point to have Nana tuck her in every night, but she wanted more than a Nanny who barely spoke English. The girl wanted love. A toy that had meaning to it. Not the kind of toys who sit on the shelf and stare at you and never cry, and never listen. She wanted a friend.
On a cold September morning, as all of her family left for more important things than their daughter (As they usually did), the young girl felt an eager urge to explore. Upstairs there was her bedroom. The iron bed pressed against the wall with dark purple walls surrounding her. She shrugged and turned around. She heard a small squeak. She looked up. There it was! A door to the attic. Quickly, the little girl searched for a ladder and attempted to climb up to the attic. She swung the door open and ran inside. This is it! She thought, This is where I will stay when no one will be there for me! She laughed and danced, until finally she heard the squeak again. This time louder. She turned and heard the squeak come from the trunk. As she opened the lid she vanished inside, outside stood Jane. No longer a doll, but a human. And she'd fooled the dull girl as she'd been fooled over two hundred years ago. Jane pondered if she should tell the girl she must find someone to love her. But, Jane was already in misery enough. She skipped down the stairs, in disappointment, the woman who'd confined her was long since dead. And within moments, Jane fell to the hard wood floor, and died.