Doll House

by Ellery Grimm age 13
Doll House Ellery was born and lives in DC. She shares a house with her brother and two parents. Ellery enjoys reading, writing, and listening to music.

“Nobody moved fast, after a long day of sitting stiff and being moved from table to kitchen to bed, we were all sore. The house was illuminated with light and a silhouette moved across the wall, Mother. There was heated conversation between her and Father (I was not surprised), but finally the light was extinguished and the house was silent again.”

My body was frozen, the soft chair seemed to envelope my porcelain limbs. I waited a bit, for the dull thump and the darkness that signalled The Girl was preparing for bed. I was always hesitant in moving, for one time she had come back and caught Jeffrey walking.

Sally was the first to move, she creaked and stuttered as she swung her legs onto the wooden floor. Then, Frankie was next. Nobody moved fast, after a long day of sitting stiff and being moved from table to kitchen to bed, we were all sore. The house was illuminated with light and a silhouette moved across the wall, Mother. There was heated conversation between her and Father (I was not surprised), but finally the light was extinguished and the house was silent again.

Mother and Father loved to fight, and hated to love each other. Whenever Mother didn’t like the furniture, Father did. Whenever Father wanted family time, Mother had a headache. It went on like this, sometimes quiet, sometimes the shouting found their way to my room. Playing with me.

Days passed, then weeks, then months, and finally the house was never touched by The Girl. We watched her grow, she never knew we were there. I guess it was fine like that, until it wasn’t.

There was no school, The Girl stayed home. She had a friend over. Her mother came in, words were exchanged and the mother walked toward the house. It was like an earthquake, then a tornado. The house was lifted skyward, we all fell. A crash, a scream. Plates falling from shelves, books sliding down the hallways. A rough thud and then blinding light slanted through the windows. No one moved, then I did. Outside there was green and gray and moving boxes and more people. Suddenly, the house was opened and a hand reached in, sweeping us into darkness.

It felt like eternity before I could see again, but when I did I wanted to be blind. I was alone, the walls painted pink, as was the floor and furniture. Everything was clean, everything was new. That night I fell asleep to the sound of…nothing, no bickering about the worn out sofa or the wobbly chairs. I was never really interested in moving into a new house, I guess I just wanted a new set of furniture.

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