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All Dolled Up - Creative Writing

Alya Maharani —

All Dolled Up

My legs… No, my whole body. It feels like something is making its way up my body, starting from my feet, then up to my legs, my body, soon after, my arms. It was the weirdest sensation, but it felt oddly familiar. In fact, this whole scenery felt like déjà vu. But why?

I turn my head in every direction, desperately calling out for help to anyone who can hear, only to watch them continue walking past ─ or rather, minding their own business. Shutting my deep-brown eyes as tight as I can, I try to think of any logical reason for this. It was quite obvious that I can see the quiet trees, benches, families and their dogs walking about, but why am I the only one finding something….odd?

As I try to calmly take a deep breath, my body starts to feel rock hard and feels much heavier than before. And when my vision started getting foggy, I panic instantly. Especially when everything starts to gradually turn black.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Gasping for air, my eyes burst open as I sit up from my bed, droplets of sweat slowly dripping down my temples and down to my jaw and neck. I shut my eyes and open them again over and over again as I look up to the ceiling, my chest rising up and down along with my heart beating at a rapid pace.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Grunting and cursing to myself, I heave my body up from my comfy bed with all my might. I sit on the edge of my bed for a few seconds, trying to gather my senses as my telephone continued to ring non-stop.

Not wanting to jump off my bed, I stretch my arm all the way to reach the telephone that I had placed on my other bedside table on my right, and pick it up.

“Hello?” I ask.

“Rhea!” the telephone shouted, startling me. “Get off your bed and take a shower now! The girls and I will pick you up at eight ─ on the dot.”

“Wait… What? Emma, what’s going on? You can’t just─”

“No time, no time!” she cut off my words, my lips curl up into a sheepish smile. Normally, people would be upset if someone cut off their words, but things were different for me and Emma ─ mostly because she’s my best friend. My memory of anything before the past five and a half months are very blurry. Well I know that I live alone, and the fact that I don’t have parents, also that Emma is my best friend, but other than that, I can never recall any of my past memories. Which is alright, I guess. I mean, as long as I’m happy and living well and fine, everything would be okay….right?

“Could you at least tell me what’s going on?” I plead.

“Surprise party for Kennedy. Okay ─ gotta go now! Pick you up at eight, don’t be late this time!”

And with that the call ended. Kind of annoying, I thought.

And here I thought I could’ve went to a professional to talk about my odd, frequent dreams ─ scratch that, nightmares. A psychologist, perhaps? I could always go next time, I guess.

I hop off my bed and went to the kitchen to grab some breakfast before taking a shower. Standing on my tiptoes, I stretch my right arm out to reach my cupboard so I can get my hands on my prepared slices of bread; to toast them up, of course. Finally getting my hands on two small slices, I pop them in the toaster and flick the switch on. To kill time, I steal a glance at the clock and start humming to my recent favourite song. Twenty-five minutes to eight, I thought. I sigh softly and stare at my toaster, silently tapping my feet.

For some reason, today feels like it’s going to be a very long day.

In a dark and hollow-like space, nothing could be seen except dolls that were neatly placed on high and almost unreachable shelves. Mannequins surrounded every corner, followed by sharp needles and strings, scattered on the floor. A man was sitting on his throne accompanied by a doll-like figure in a pretty-pink laced dress present next to him, his white and cold hand stroking the back of the doll’s perfectly styled hair. He grinned.

By Alya Maharani