A Real Doll

The Woman

Eliza looked at the source the voice was coming from. The voice belonged to a rather odd looking woman. She was very tall and her limbs were needle-thin. Her dress was most unflattering, as it was gathered so as to make her look like a broken dress form. The woman was exceptionally pale with very dark eyes and grey hair pulled on top of her head. She looked a bit artificial, but Eliza's upbringing prevented her from saying so.
   "Just browsing, Madam," said Mr. Whitmore. "Go on, darling, take your pick."
  Eliza went over to the large display of dolls and inspected them all carefully. They were exquisite and expertly detailed. Some of them had embroidered outfits or little change purses, and one even had a small ring upon its delicate finger. Upon looking at their faces she noticed something strange. They all bore queer expressions. Some looked frightened, others looked slightly pained, and some had no expression at all.
   "Your daughter is beautiful," said the woman, her gaze never leaving Eliza's form. "How old is she?"
   "Why, thank you. She is a doll, isn't she? Eliza has just had her tenth birthday. I was not present for it, which is part of the reason why we are searching now. How they do grow up!" replied Mr. Whitmore.
   "Indeed. I had a son, but he grew up and got himself shot in a trench. I adore children, but I wish they would stay children. To preserve their youth and perfection. Your daughter is so lovely," sighed the woman.
   "Agreed," quipped Mr. Whitmore uncomfortably. "Eliza, have you chosen one yet?" Eliza stared anxiously at the dolls. Their eyes gleamed and looked to her in a sort of warning. However, Eliza suddenly felt weak and dizzy. The only clear thought she had was that she wanted a doll.
   "Father... I want a doll, " she mumbled. Frederick Whitmore scooped up his daughter into his arms.
   "Eliza, are you alright?" he asked in concern. The woman moved towards him.
   "Does she feel warm?" she asked, placing a chilling hand on Eliza's forehead. The little girl could feel something being taken out of her. She looked over at the woman who stared at her with her cold, dark eyes, then to her father. She could feel a scream welling up in throat, then everything went dark.