Fear Feast

What the Dolls Did: Appetizer

                                                                       What the Dolls Did: Appetizer

Should I tell you about what the dolls did? Don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret. A delightfully dreadful secret. 

Jessminda sat at the head of the tea table. It was a place of prominence. It was Jessminda’s rightful place. She was the Queen of the Dolls after all. At three feet tall, she towered over all the other toys in Paisley’s playroom, even Cupcake, the large teddy bear and Onion, the two foot clown doll. She sat quite comfortably in her pastel blue rocking chair. Her pink dress with its lace trimmings puffed out around her, matching her painted-on rosy cheeks perfectly. The white apron covering her delicate dress was immaculate. 

She sat up swiftly to lean towards her Jess-minions. The sudden movement caused her pigtails to flop back and forth. The Jess-minions were her sycophants. They were three of them: small baby dolls dressed in blue, yellow and green respectively. If the three of them each stood on the each other’s shoulders, they would just reach Jessminda’s  pointed chin. The Jess-minions, who were all seated on Jessminda’s right, were deep in conversation. From what Jess gathered, Paisley was to be left alone soon for the very first time.

She won’t be alone, thought Jessminda, She has me!

Paisley was the only child at the mansion where the toys all lived. She was the daughter of a successful entrepreneur and a stylish socialite. The seven-year-old liked nothing more than to spend hours in her playroom with her toys. She loved her dolls and they loved her in return.

Onion, who sat on Jessminda’s left, clapped his hands to get the attention of the table. Onion was so named because Paisley once saw her cousin tear up at the sight of a clown as though he had been “cutting up onions like Chef Bill.” 

“There is nothing to fear,” said the clown, the corners of his bright red mouth turned up in a smile, “Paisley is safe with us.”

“Also,” Onion added, “She is to have...a nanny.”

The toys all gasped. They were a rather sheltered lot and change did not sit well with them. At the mansion, there were maids, gardeners, a butler, a chef, the mister and madame of the house and the little miss, Paisley. However, there had never been a nanny. 

“What’s that?” asked Cupcake, his furry brown face quivering.

Cupcake had only been with them a year and was new to the goings-on of life with humans. 

Harper, the stuffed lion, added his deep voice to the conversation: “A nanny is a person who takes care of children while their parents are away.”

“The parents have to pay the nanny money though,” hissed Slither seriously, the stuffed snake, “To encourage the nanny to feed the child. 

“Ahhh,” said Cupcake.

He understood. The dolls moved onto other topics, that is, until Paisley peeked in to check on them. Then as was the Law of the Dolls, they all scurried back into place, and froze, lying limp, just as she had left them.

Paisley stood in the doorway, scrutinizing the playroom. She turned her back on the dolls. She could almost swear she had seen a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye: the twitch of tiny doll hand. 

The mister and madame left the next day, kissing Paisley twice on each cheek as they bid her farewell. The nanny was there, all in black up to her chin and down to her toes. She had a pale, angular face and a mouth with lips that seemed to be permanently pursed in disdain. She had come with the highest of recommendations from a new nanny agency. She was known for turning spoilt brats into sweet angels.