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Porcelain

I’ve been everywhere. I’ve seen beautiful sunsets and breathtaking sunrises. But I’ve also seen darkness and I do not like it.
When people see me, they crowd. They inspect every feature of my face. I’m told I am beautiful.
I’m not perfect, I may be beautiful but I am fragile. If I were ever kidnapped, I would be sold for a great amount of money. Although, no one has tried to steal me yet.
My name is Anna. I have pale, straight hair that ends at my shoulders and my eyes are a pretty pearl color. I normally wear fancy lace and silk dresses with a pair of cute flats. My hands and feet are very tiny.
Father takes me to many places. Places where people crowd. Photos are taken and then Father and I are on to a new place and new people.
Father is old. I believe in his sixties. Father has light brown hair that is thinning, he likes to comb it back. He wears little circle glasses and behind those glasses are emerald green eyes and he seems to always be smiling.
Many people are amazed with my beauty, so amazed they pay Father for pictures sometimes as much as fifty dollars per picture. Father is very rich from all of those people who pay for pictures of me.
Father buys me pretty dresses and cute shoes with that money. Sometimes I get my hair done too, I like pigtails and ponytails when the weather is nice.
Today, Father and I are going to France. Back into darkness I go. I drift into sleep and when I awake Father is carrying me past the eiffel tower.
I sit with Father on a bench with a great view of the tower. Without fail I am crowded once more.
Why do they find me so amazing? The eiffel tower is right behind me for pete sake.
Everything is becoming dark. Father is yelling, crying and holding my leg. I become unconscious. I wake up to the sound of Father’s voice. “Is Anna going to be okay?” “Yes, but that man who fell on her, broke her leg.” I slip back into unconsciousness.
Father and I haven’t gone out in a while now, even though my leg is fine. He’s still upset and ashamed.
Father combs my silky hair for me while I sit on the edge of the bed in my room.
It’s been years since Father has taken me out for pictures. His old bones can’t take it. I assume Father will pass away soon.. this thought saddens me. I love Father so much and I don’t know what I’d do without him. He created me after all.
I don’t know why Father is so upset, it wasn’t his fault. People are clumsy and things happen. I wish Father would smile more. He’s been to the Doctor four times this month, I’m so worried and he hasn’t told me why or what’s going on. I’m always here if he wants to talk but maybe he’s keeping it from me for a reason, a reason I do not understand. He’s been on the phone in his room almost everyday, with his paper and pen. He stays in there for a while and never tells me why.
six years have passed and so has Father. I feel broken without him but I’m in a new home now, with a lady who doesn’t seem to care about me. She throws me around and treats me like dirt, She never talks to me or spends quality time with me. I believe she lives alone and maybe that’s why, why she’s always so bitter. Maybe her father passed away too, maybe she’s broken without him as I am without you, My dearest Father oh how I miss you. That loving smiling and how gentle you were, you were always right beside me, saw me for me and stayed with me not for the beauty everyone else came around for but because you loved me. You wanted the world to see how incredible I was.
The lady takes me out to make money off of pictures then locks me away in my room. I’m lucky if I get a new outfit every other year.
It’s dark in here.. but I’ve gotten used to the darkness. Suddenly there’s a bright light in my eyes.
The lady takes me out of my room and brushes my knotted hair and sits me down next to a mirror before she leaves the room.
I look in the mirror and I see.. a little doll. A dusty doll with pale, straight hair that ends at the shoulders.
A doll with a beautifully made face and a silk dress on with matching flats.
All of my questions are answered. The reason everyone stops and stares.. the reason everyone wants to take my picture..
I’m the most beautifully made doll in the world, and I hate it.