After losing her head, she realized that the rest of her body was falling apart!
My adoptive mother watched in horror as I ripped her limbs from the sockets and tossed them into the fireplace, the plastic boiling and melting in flames.
She’ll send me back to the foster home; I’m sure of it.
It’s not my fault. I’m not a violent kid, but when I asked for a doll for my birthday, I expected a mini me. A doll I could dress like me, style her hair like mine, flaunt around the playground as my twin.
Instead, she bought me a doll that looked like her own daughter, Hannah.
No matter how many times I combed it out and slathered it with grease, her hair always fell back into perfect blonde curls. I drew on her arms and legs with brown crayons and markers, but each night, the color wiped away in my bed sheets as she slept next to me. One day, I laid her in the rocking chair and she winked at me with those hideous blue eyes. I lost it.
I heard the words, “psychotic” and “cereal killer,” whispered into the phone.
I guess she’s mad I ate the last of the Honey Nut Cheerios too.
I went over the word limit, but I wanted to use today’s prompt as a writing exercise for a larger piece that I’m working on dealing with race and identity, how it affects young children, in this case, young girls, and of course, the infamous doll dest. If you’ve never heard of the doll test, there are plenty of videos online. Here is one.
This is in response to Mondays Finish the Story: a flash fiction challenge where we provide you with a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. Your challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided.
Click the froggy icon to read other stories and add your own.