dolls

He who writes is the martyr, seen through the eyes of the unassuming doll.

Honour looked so much like a child herself, confined to bed, a white nightgown, like one of those maudlin Victorian dolls. Her cheeks were red, like someone had painted them, but I knew it was from rubbing, wiping away her melancholy.

Thankfully, the farmers understand my request that the children not be allowed to peer through the windows at me.It would be alarming for them to see me with their dolls, to see me using the knife on their faces. There are some things children never should see.

I had had the job for three weeks. It was dreary. You couldn't read; they didn't like it. I would feel as if I were drugged, sitting there, watching those damned dolls, thinking what a success they would have made of their lives if they had been women. Satin skin, silk hair, velvet eyes, sawdust heart - all complete.

If someone says something about your art that makes you feel bad, disregard it and joyfully make more art.

And no matter what closet we were thrown in, up what river we were sold for an embarrassment, or worse, traded for a bottle of gin--we__ carry on in playful stitches, friends__il the end_which came sooner than wished.

Patches don__ look it, but when attached to your soul they can get pretty heavy. They go over the holes in your soul, like when you patch a sock. When you have a hole in your soul, it__ because you__e hurting from something. I don__ know if you noticed, but that girl had a lot of holes.

Somehow her hula hoop had cut into the driver__ side door like the vehicle was made of cheese.

Because I am, just as you are you. We don__ always get to pick who we are, Shelly Wynn, but we can choose to celebrate it.

There__ nothing wrong with you at all. Sometimes people say or do things that are mean because there's something the matter with them. With Lydia, it seems there__ always something wrong with her.

She could spin it between her legs, skip with it, twirl it around her neck and transfer it from one arm to the other. Shelly hooped because she enjoyed it; it calmed her whenever she would have an argument or a bad day at school, and it also allowed her to think. Today, she needed to hoop more than ever.

Soon, all the children were chanting it. __o school! No school!

Aloha Oukou. It looked like your soul was escaping so I put you in a tree.

The shadow self is what lies beneath the makeup. It__ those ugly parts that you haven__ accepted about yourself. You hide those parts in the shadows until you__e ready._ Her face remained a haunting calm. __hen you realize the scars are who you are, that there was nothing wrong with you and that you were beautiful all along - that__ when you decide to take the makeup off.

It__ no big deal. It__ kind of like a tattoo. It won__ hurt, not too much, just a few stitches and it__l be all over. It__ really interesting how it__ done. You won__ believe where your soul hides. Go on, take a guess. Where do you think it is?

Lydia displays her right hand and instantly bathed the room with a blinding light. It lasted only a moment before it drew back into her palm. __ can fix you if you__e ever broken.

I__ afraid they__e not coming._ Abby said fearfully. __ur parents, our teachers _ everyone! They__e disappeared. That__ it. Lights out, Shelly. We__e on our own.

Shelly shook her head and made sure she had plenty of space so that she wouldn__ hit anything. As many times before, she kept the hoop close to her waist and then twirled it with small, tight bursts of speed. As the hoop gathered in momentum it started to give off a hum that soon took on a light blue illumination far brighter than the streetlamps. It was so bright, that it lit up the entire backyard.