Wind Up Doll

On my post upon the wall, I see everything. The teddy bears, limp and torn from use, the cabbage patch kids with no arms. She has outgrown all these, my Master has. Her room, a seashell pink is cluttered in toys old and new. But she will never outgrow me for I cannot allow it. I was her mothers, her grandmothers, and made by the hands of her great-grandmother. Ah, those fresh new memories from waking up on a table to seeing myself in the mirror for the first time. My porcelain cheeks were flushed and innocent, my eyes were a curious onyx color. My hair went in long golden waves down to my waist, which was a perfect 26, and feathered out at the bottom. The outfit I wore was a leafy green strapless dress with an empire waist. I was Cassandra.
I looked at the clock where it was 2:15pm. Happiness flooded through me as I realized that Master would be home soon. She always came through the door at 2:30 exactly with her mother. I kept glancing anxiously at the clock, making it, of course, go slower. Finally the front door slammed, she was home! The shell pink door flew open as she searched the room for an important object. Her eyes finally rested on mine and she raced towards me. I was scooped up into her hands and she immediately started playing house with me. School today had made my Masters imagination go crazy, but she had a creative outlet to use it on. “Oh Cassandra,” she yelped in glee, “ you are my best friend!” Slama 2 She pulled the chain on my back and I spoke in a cheerful voice, “I love you!,”
Night rolled in and, as usual, I slept in Masters bed with her. “Good night, Guinevere,” purred Masters mother, “sleep tight, and don’t let the bed bugs bite.” Master spoke, “Mommy, come give Cassandra a kiss goodnight too!” “Guinevere, you are getting too old to play with dolls! You’re turning eight tomorrow!” I fumed and my anger boiled inside me, but my spirits were lifted when Master spoke, “ No! I love Cassandra, now come say goodnight to her!” She never did. Masters mother was the only thing I hated. When I was passed down to her, she threw me into the corner of her room and let dust collect on me. After her 10th birthday, I was thrown into the basement in a moldy box, left there for 20 years only to be opened by my curious Master. The Mother took one glance at me, “keep it,” she droned in her throaty voice. I awoke the next morning to the glaring sun. Master was already gone for school, but I heard noises in the house, “Good-for-nothing doll. I had it when I was younger, but I let go of it fine! I gotta get rid of this thing.” The door flew open and in charged Masters mom, with an ugly brown box in her hand. Her sweaty palm grabbed me and lifted me up from the bed. I was thrown roughly into the box, and then darkness enveloped. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, months turned into years. I eventually heard the cry of my Master, “ Mommy, where did my Cassandra go?” The witless mother replied saying she didn’t know. I stayed in the box plotting my revenge upon the mother, until one day, the box opened. I looked up into the harsh, blinding light to see the muzzle Slama 3 of Masters giant furry beast. I was suddenly enveloped in smelly, slobbery jaws and carried away from my prison. The beast set me down, obviously bored, and scampered away to do some idiotic thing. I sat in the corner of the kitchen, and began plotting again. I grew bored and began to teach myself how to move. It was painful, as I had never put weight on my slim legs, but after one week, I could sit, stand, walk and run. That night, darkness proved the perfect cloak for my plan. I climbed up the kitchen cabinets and stopped at some gleaming spears. I had seen Masters mother use these spears before, she had cut her self while chopping up her gruel. It seemed to have hurt her, so I grabbed the largest spear and, heavy as it was, dropped to the floor onto the beasts bedding. I dragged the spears up the leveled floor (or stairs, as I once heard Master call them) into the mothers room. I knew I had reached her room because it smelled like how she smelled, moldy and old. Up the drawers and shelves I climbed, higher and higher still. Finally reaching the top, I peered over to see the mother snoring loudly, clear liquid seeping from her mouth. I tiptoed onto her heaving chest with the spear. Slowly, soaking in every moment, I lifted the spear up above my head. The mother seemed to have noticed movement and her eyelids fluttered open. Her shrill scream pierced the night as she spotted my spear plunging into her chest. The scream was stopped short as the spear took affect. I walked right up to the mothers face, put on my sweetest smile and softly spoke, “ I love you.” Slama 4 I jumped with triumph and flung the sword away from the cold, unmoving body. Suddenly, I heard a sickening thud, and an earsplitting scream reverberated off the walls. My plastic head turned and shrieked. At first, I did not know who I had hit, but I soon realized it. It was Master, her face had matured over those years in the box, she looked roughly about 16 .The spear I had flung had hit Master squarely in the chest. Masters body went limp against the wall. I had killed my Master I could not live. I flung myself off the bed to my Masters unmoving body. Softly I kissed her cheek, unreal tears swirling down my plasticized face. Mourning, I went to the banister or the “stairs.” I could not go on with my life. I pitched myself off the banister into the open air. Cold open air whispered around my face but stopped as the dull thud told me my body had hit the hardwood floors. My eyes found my body, scattered around me in jagged pieces. My eyes became clouded with black matter as my head became limp. I drifted into endless sleep.





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