In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Out of Your Reach.”
I have forgotten the things I wanted but didn’t get, but I do remember a gift I once received that I had really wanted, but later sorely regretted.
I don’t know what caused me to want a My Size Barbie in the first place (since I never was a fan of Barbies in general), but for some reason it was all I really wanted for Christmas one year. My grandmother got it for me, and I was delighted.
Until that night.
It turns out, keeping a life-size doll in your room at night is absolutely terrifying. I couldn’t stand to see those unnaturally large eyes staring at me through the darkness. I shoved the Barbie in the corner of my room and made her face the wall.
Turns out, she didn’t like facing the wall. When I woke up, I saw that she had spun around to face me. This happened every morning.
I knew my parents wouldn’t do that to me, and my little brother would be far too frightened to trek to my room at night, even if he had thought of it. Still, I tried to convince myself it was nothing. After all, she was standing on a swiveling platform, and the floors in my house weren’t exactly level. It must just be that her platform was slowly turning over the course of the night because of gravity or something. Yeah. That’s it. The thought was at least enough to help me sleep, even though I wasn’t really convinced.
One morning, I woke up and the Barbie was stiffly standing on her platform as always, only several feet closer to me, one arm extended in my direction. The edge of my bed was only just out of reach of her plastic fingertips.
After that, she was banished to the attic. I never played with her again.