Seven Sisters: 1

Camilla, that is what she called herself. That is what we called her. The prettiest of the seven. The one with the longest tresses, perfectly round cheeks, blue eyes that seemed to flutter in gratitude and praise for their owner. It is only right that she was the favorite.

It took me a bit to realize that something was off, and by the time I did, either it was too late, or I was so beyond caring that I let it play out. Tell me, am I the sinner?

Chapter 1

I remember the day clearly when we were brought to our first home. It was on the “slow day” - the kind when time flows interminably and the wonderful creative parts of me feel sucked in and dark thoughts about tripping someone or falling off a high shelf creep in. On this slow day, an old woman comes in with her walking stick jammed into the corner of a shopping cart, a bag of cat food, a dog toy, and one package of size 3 baby diapers.

All of us dolls at the store know that no one with cat food in their cart is going to buy anything from the toy aisle. The diapers though. The diapers threw us all for a loop and we were whispering and betting our tiny combs and dresses like it was the last bit of contraband in the universe.

Now, the stakes were getting high because Felicity came with a lot of accessories and we were, of course, all determined that we were the ones that were going to make off with the lot. I, Beatrice, came with cleaning accessories, one of which was the feather duster and I was in no mood to lose that shining unused prize so I bet quickly on that the old lady was going to wander down the aisles for a hour, which on a long day in interminable, and which point her limp would forcefully reappear and she would leave the store.

Felicity bet that she would only buy her. This is what she always bets, even though she comes with horse grooming tools but no horse. The horse is sold separately, but they do not stock it here, so she is unique and utterly pointless.

Camilla bet that the woman would slip on the wet floors and die.

Alice said she would not buy a toy but would buy those adorable little baby socks instead. Alice came with adorable little baby socks. She’s a sucker.

Ursula, yes, that is her real name, refused to participate and said we were morally depraved. True, but bored dolls do what they must.

And, Tia, with the ballet slippers, said that she would buy a doll, but probably not her. Dancers, even plastic ones, are accustomed to disappointment.

We lost.

The old woman with the grey hair that hadn’t seen a brush, let alone a doll brush, in seventy-plus years, bought Camilla, Alice, and me, Beatrice.

She was obviously a terrible woman because I could have made out with all of the horse accessories if she had just left the store like I needed. Of course, Camilla looked pleased because she always looks pleased because her face is painted that way. Naturally, I looked displeased for, sadly, the same reason. Alice looked vague, but not because she was painted that way. She just is vague. It’s probably the tiny socks; her brains were sucked out through the tiny socks.

Part 2 coming soon....