Author's note: The was my first omnisicent view piece. I wrote this based on all the corruption and sadness in the world.
A Lost Doll“Jessica’s still not home,” Beth whined, looking out the window of the playroom again.
“She’ll be home, Bethie. Maybe she made some new friends today,” Camille answered. She kept herself focused on sewing up a hole in Beth’s church dress. Jessica would have called. That was the kind of person she was. Camille shook her head and stood up. “Call Daddy. I’ll be home soon.”
Camille left Beth in the house alone. In this town, a ten year old was perfectly set to stay home alone, but something was wrong, and Camille felt unsure about it. Eric promised to Beth that he would be home in ten minutes, and sent a text message to Camille to relay the information.
The police station was the first place Camille visited, though it was inadequately staffed and was the definition of disorder, the policemen were nice people and would help.
“My niece, Jessica White. She’s not home. She’s been out since breakfast, and she wouldn’t be gone this long without letting me know,” Camille explained to Chief Howard. Chief Howard, a comic book policeman (doughnuts and all), leaned forward in his chair.
“Camille, how old is she, exactly?” Howard asked.
“Sixteen. What does that matter?”
“She’s a teenager. She’s out having fun. Relax. Nothing nor no one will harm her in this town.”
But Camille refused to “relax”. She pleaded for Howard to give her some help. He suggested putting up “Lost” posters, which resulted in a lashing from Camilla about how “Jessica is not some cat that would wander off and get herself stricken by a car!”
“I’m sorry, Camille. But the missing persons report can only be filed twenty four hours after the disappearance,” Howard sighed.
“Then I will see you tomorrow,” Camille growled. Usually one to be in control of herself, Camille couldn’t help but slam the door on her way out. She traveled across town, asking children, teens, and adults if they had seen Jessica.
“The most beautiful girl here. Light hair, long, and blue eyes. Slender as a steak knife, and just as sharp. Pale, like a porcelain doll. Not one to go unnoticed,” was Camille’s description. None reported to have seen her, though.
At nine in the evening, Camille returned home to have supper. She opened the front door, wallowing in self-pity and wondering what had driven Jessica away so quickly, a familiar voice sent her into shock.
“Camille, my lovely sister! How are you? I haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving,” Priscilla greeted her. She sat on the floor with Beth, dressing dolls in different outfits.
“What do you need?” Camille snapped.
“My daughter. She’s run away.”
“I haven’t seen her.”
“Really? Little Bethie said she was here today.”
Camille closed her eyes and bit her lip until it bled.
“Someone here is lying,” Priscilla whispered in her most seductive voice. Camille hated that voice. How many of her boyfriends had Priscilla taken with that voice? Too many. Except for Eric. He was the one true man.
“Beth had an accident today and hit her head. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. It’s best you leave now, Prissy,” Camille said, opening her eyes again.
“Hm, unfortunate. Well, bye then, sister. Tell Eric I said bye,” Priscilla winked.
“I will be sure not to.”
“Why not? Afraid I’ll take him like I took the rest of them?”
Camille picked up her broom.
“Get out of my house, you witch! You ugly, ugly witch!” she shouted. Priscilla carried herself as gracefully as she could to the door. She pushed it open with ease, and laughed at some funny thought in her head. Camille slumped to the floor and cried until her heart ached, and until Eric returned from the floor above.
“Camille,” he whispered.
“She’s better than I am. Prettier. Wittier. Better,” Camille told him.
“No. You’re beautiful, more beautiful. And smarter. And a far better mother,” Eric replied. He held Camille in a tight hug. Beth wandered over eventually and joined the hug with her most favorite doll, Camilla, who reminded her of her wonderful mother.