• I opened my eyes, the Sunday morning sun was glaring into my sleepy eyes. I fell asleep, my new doll were on my chest, small pieces of threads still sticking out. I had just noticed how sloppily I had sewn the dolls together. It was like looking at a picture that you had drawn a few years ago (that you worked on so hard on) and then later (when you are a better artist) you think it is garbage. I pulled out the loose threads and sighed as I decorated the dolls a bit more.
    For Chloe’s doll, I rummaged around for glitter and used about half a bottle on her face. I also made sure to stuff the doll’s stomach with as much moss and fabric as I could. For eyes I just poked holes in the fabric head and for hair I used ugly yellow yarn. I could not help myself but to create the ugliest caricature I could of Chloe. Seeing her doll made me feel that much better.
    For Timothy’s doll, I was a bit more merciful. His doll had proportioned properly and the materials for his hair was not to cheap and he had buttons for eyes. His doll was considerably adorable. The worst I could do was draw a large, bold red X on the poor doll’s tummy. I giggled to myself.
    I stood up and looked around my room, at the mess I had created. Then, I looked out at the horizon. It had to be noon now. I looked down at my feet. They were bare as they were last night. I was wearing the same pink sweat-suit I was last night. The tears had hardly dried anymore. It was probably time to change into something clean and wash off the shame from last week.
    I used as much soap and shampoo as possible to wash away the depression. I thought more and more as I stepped onto the cold tiles on the bathroom floor. I had to become strong, I had to get over it and go on with life.He was only a man. At this thought, I started to tremble. To me, he was not just a man… He was…
    I put my hand over my ears and closed my eyes tight. These words, these thoughts cut through my like an ivory knife. I stepped back into my room, the sun still glaring. I changed into some yoga pants and a plain faded pink shirt and pulled on some matching furry boots. I was going to stay home all day.
    I sort of wished that there was school today so I could have tested out the dolls. Maybe I was a lunatic for believing in the power of the dolls. I bent over and pick up Timothy’s doll and squished and turned it in my hands. Did something so simple have as much power as rip the fabric of fate and tear into two young adults’ lives?
    I guessed that an experiment was in order. In one swift motion, I had flung Timothy’s doll into the wall in front of me. The sound it made when the doll splat into the wall was blunt and blatant. My arm vibrated, an after- effect of the unplanned maneuver. I sighed as I spun around in my chair, picking up Chloe’s doll as I rotated. This time, I took a dull pencil and gently poked the doll. I felt as it I was toying with a chained dog. The doll could not move away or protect itself. The ludicrous thought made me smirk. I sighed.
    It was only Sunday, I could only find out the conclusion of my experiment when I saw the two of them. Since I had planned on staying home all day, I would not see them. I stood up from the chair and started to walked away from the dolls, leaving them in their pathetic and feeble positions. I had to do some homework for Monday. I became anxious to see the results, did the “voodoo” dolls work? I shook my head… I had to be crazy.

    [© Gods Receptionist PART 2! Shorter for your reading pleasure.]