Young Writers Society

Lightning struck and thunder rumbled up in the evening sky. The little girl curiously peered out of the train as it started to get darker and darker, and the clouds had started to gather over the vast expanse of hills. “You know, Jess,” mused the little girl, “Shan doesn’t like rain.”

The older girl chuckled. “Really?”

“Of course!” the little girl replied as the first few drops of rain splashed onto her tiny outstretched hands. She brought her hand up to her eyes and looked at the small puddle as Jessica rose up and shut the window, drawing the blinds down.

The train compartment instantly dimmed, and the little girl watched as the lamp overhead cast shadows all around, on her sleeping companions’ faces. She leaned forward and beckoned Jessica to come closer, cupping a hand and putting her mouth near to her mentor’s ear.

“Luckily she’s in my backpack, or else she, Lulubelle, and everyone else will throw a fit!” she whispered, her big blue eyes gazing into Jessica’s. “Apple really doesn’t like getting his fur wet, you know,” she added in an undertone.

“Of course she doesn’t --- no rabbit likes rain!” the older girl laughed and patted on the bed where they were sitting. “You should take a nap now --- we still have three hours to go!”

“But I don’t want to take a nap!” the little girl groaned, pressing her small pink lips together into a pout. Jessica hid a smile and tucked her in as the little girl complained and insisted on staying up. “I’m a big girl now!” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“I’m sure you are,” Rosanne said soothingly, “But even big girls need their beauty sleep! Now go to sleep, now.” The little girl sighed. “Good night, Jess,” she called out.

“Good night, Emmy. Sweet dreams,” the older girl rose and smiled at the little girl, who was thinking of her darling dolls. Would Lulubelle be uncomfortable in the little coop in her backpack? Would Apple feel crowded? Was Charlie warm and snug? She fretted and tossed and turned in her bed.

But yet, as the rain continued to pour harder and harder, the little girl couldn’t help but feel woozy and she suddenly found it difficult to force her heavy eyelids open. And after a little while, she finally succumbed and promptly fell asleep, tiny hands cradling the air where Shan and her friends should be.



“Come on, Em! Time to get up!” a voice interrupted the little girl’s dreams. What in the world was Jess doing? she wondered. Who would ever want to get up from this warm and comfy and snuggly bed? “We’re nearly home!” another voice cheered. Was that Roxi? She was awake already?

“Come on!” The little girl immediately yanked open her eyes, startled that someone was bouncing on her bed. “What are you doing, Roxi?” she said and swept her dull brown curls out of her eyes.

“We’re nearly home!” the blonde girl repeated and continued jumping, pointing at the window, “See?”

The little girl rubbed her eyes and peered out. It was still raining cats and dogs (no, heffalumps and woozles, she corrected herself), but to her surprise she could see the train station already --- she could already make out the shapes of her parents out of the evening fog! “We’re nearly home,” she echoed her friend’s words, and looked up at a grinning Jessica. “Yes, we are, so let’s prepare, children!”

The little girl stumbled out of bed and slipped on her shoes. Finally, she thought, a radiant smile creeping on her face, I’m home!

Soon, the train chugged to a stop in front of the bright train station. The two little girls waved and yelled for their parents’ attention, and their parents yelled back, too. “Did you have fun at the summer camp, Emmy?” her Mummy hollered as the little girls rushed out of the train compartment and down the train, Jessica following after.

“Yes, I did! I made a lot of friends and this is Roxi and this is Jess…” the little girl chattered, happy to see her Mummy after an entire week away from her. “Lulu and the others said they had a really fun time as well!”



“Where’s Shan?” the little girl cried as she hurriedly rummaged through her numerous bags full of clothes and towels and souvenirs from camp. “Where’s my dolly?”

Mummy looked tired. “Emmy, I told you to pack up all your things carefully,” she scolded the little girl, who was now in tears.

“I didn’t mean to leave Shan and Strawberry and Pete and Maynard and Jazzy behind!” she sobbed, clutching one of Shan’s frocks to her chest. “I didn’t mean to!” Her Mummy sighed and silently left the room while the little girl howled in despair inside.

She’ll forget about them once her father comes back with another load of dolls from his business trip, her Mummy thought to herself savagely as she strode down the hallway to dial her Daddy. She’ll be alright.



“She abandoned us all.” Jasper leaped from his precarious perch on the wooden stool onto the floor without a single sound, except for the slight swoosh when his creamy tail flicked to and fro.

Shannon hissed, “No, she didn’t! She just went out for a bit, that’s all.” Her brown felt eyes glared at the stuffed calico cat, daring him to say more.

Jazzy’s whiskers twitched. “Would anyone stuff everything they had into their bags and rush out of a cabin just to ‘go out for a while’?” The toys cringed at his sudden, harsh laugh. “You’re still just in self-denial, Shan.”

“Don’t, Jasper.” Pete growled, trunk raised up in warning. “You’re scaring the others!”

The cat ignored Pete. “What do we mean to her anyway? You know her daddy’s gonna buy her a mockingbird and a diamond ring and all those other things if she lost us.”

His tail flicked towards the band of toys miserably huddling together in the corner, “We’re nothing but dolls. Easy to come by. Cheap.” His voice got lower. “Expendable.”

Strawberry gasped, mouth perfectly formed in an "o". “You mean she’ll replace us?” Jasper nodded. She started panicking, “Oh my god! We’re finally done for. No more tea parties. No more My Little Pony. No more combing my mane. No more---“

Pete interrupted her. “Stop it, Strawberry,” he said crossly, “You’re giving me a headache. And Jasper, shut up. Your words will do nothing but cause havoc and dismay in our little temporary community.”

No doll but Jazzy knew what the old and wise heffalump was saying, but they didn’t dare ask.

“I am very sure Emily will come and fetch us home soon,” he continued, trunk twirling. Jazzy raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. “We will arrive home --- beaten and weathered, but alive!”

Maynard quivered, little beak trembling as he tried to speak for the first time. “But…what if…Em…doesn’t come back? At all?”

Pete was about to say something, but the tortoiseshell beat him to it. “There is nothing to fear but fear itself,” he observed wisely. “But one has to prepare for the worst, as the most experienced of us would say.”

Everyone ignored his jab, and Shannon raised her head, absentmindedly wrapping her woolen braid around her fingers. “Emsie’ll come and take us all back, just you wait and see, Jazz.

“Just you wait and see.”



Shannon stayed up all by herself as the other dolls rested, some crying themselves to sleep, though the pittering and pattering of the rain covered up their miserable sniffs and sighs. She climbed up the chair marked “Dakota Woods”, and with a bit of difficulty she finally arrived at the top, and she just sat there, watching, praying, all by herself.

Moonlight streamed through the window, casting shadows all around the wooden cabin, and lightly caressed the pale and tired faces of her dear friends. No, she corrected herself, they weren’t just her friends; they were her family.

She remembered how she just woke up in Emily’s arms one morning in an unfamiliar bedroom, cradled against a stranger’s chest. Scared and wary of the beautiful stranger, she started to cry, tiny tears dripping onto her checkered white-and-blue pinafore.

But Emily had this wonderful voice that soothed her worries, her pain, her aches for love. It was her lullaby that finally lulled the doll into sweet oblivion, where she, along with Pete and Jasper (Maynard came the last), grew up together with the little girl, her place growing ever more important in Emsie’s little heart. Or so she had believed.



A tear slid out of her green eyes and onto the very pinafore she had worn all those years ago when she first met her Emsie. Wasn’t she Em’s best dolly? Wasn’t she her confidante? She silently asked the bright moon, who seemed to mock her with every syllable she pronounced in her cloth heart.

The rain had long stopped; sleep had long wrapped its coils around her family, soothing them through its wispy tendrils. Only the harsh moon remained awake, along with the occasional breeze that ran the tips of its fingers through the resting field of daffodils and tulips and other flowers that Shannon couldn’t remember the names of. Like how Emsie does when she sings us to sleep.



She squeezed her eyes shut, trying her hardest to hold back the plethora of tears that threatened to break through as a similar wave of memories tried to engulf her. But yet, as the tears subsided, she couldn’t help but question, was Jazzy right? She hugged herself more tightly, her pale velvet legs pressed against her heart. Did she really care for us?

If only Emsie could see me now, she sighed. How pathetic I am without her.

She looked back at her family, all snuggled tightly against each other. Pete looked as if he had aged another five years, even in his sleep, his trunk drooping ever lower and lower until it finally sunk onto Jazzy’s back; while the calico cat wrapped his tail around the little ball of green and yellow fluff that was Maynard. Strawberry was in the centre, nestled against the three animals, her dapple gray and pink coat standing out as always.

Shannon could feel the moonlight sliding down her back as she climbed the long way down from the windowsill, illuminating her flushed skin. She carefully placed each and every step, taking care not to wake up anyone that could see her stained face.

At last, her tiny feet touched the cabin floor, and she let out a choked gasp as coldness surged up throughout her whole body. Why is the floor so cold? She cursed, and she froze in her tracks as Jazzy shifted, holding Maynard to him ever closer. She waited for a while, watching the steady rise and fall of her family’s chests until she dared to dive right into the pile of sleeping dolls.

She curled up beside Strawberry, burying her head into Maynard’s fluff. For a moment she had a notion she was sleeping in Emily’s bedroom, that the soft feathery down by her head was the little girl’s brown strands of hair. But the moment soon passed, and she was left with only her heart aching. Just like how Emily has left us behind.

The doll shut her eyes. Maybe it’s all just a dream. Maybe Emsie will come back to me. To us.

And as the little pittering and pattering started again, Shan finally succumbed and fell asleep, dreaming of the times when her Emmy took her under her wing.



“I won’t have her.” Emily started stonily at the plastic thing wrapped up in a box.

Her Daddy sighed and started saying, “Emily ---”

But she had already turned away, muttering and pouting to herself.

He shrugged. She did the same thing with Joy and Vera and Angel, he thought as he carefully put the doll where Emily could see it --- on the windowsill --- why not Shannon and co?



Pete walked to and fro on the wooden floor, scowling and indigo trunk twitching. Why hasn’t she come back yet? He thought darkly to himself as he strolled across the cabin. What if the young rapscallion’s right?

He paced forwards and backwards, carrying out the argument in his head. As he fruitlessly tried to prove to himself that the sweet little girl did care, a shadow entered the room.

It was Jazzy returning from the big cabin next door, an electronic device of which he believed was one of the camp’s tape recorders in his mouth. He gingerly spat out the big dusty thing underneath the bed, and returned to his corner of the room. Maybe we’ll find out why Emmy’s gone from the tape recorder, he thought.

He licked his neat fur clean, washing his paws and straightening his whiskers. He settled down after he had his daily bath, watching the others worry about their predicament.

Jazzy closed his eyes, forcing himself to erase the heartbreaking images from his eyes, remembering a time when he still had faith in his owner. When he still believed in the goodness of humans.

It was a bright autumn day when he stopped being naïve. His little Ivanka had brought him out to play with her neighbour, sitting on their porch. They watched as the red and golden leaves slowly drifted to the ground while having a tea party with Anna, the neighbour, and her dolls Mr. Wiggles, Rabbity and Miss Gingerbread, who was the newest addition to their family. He couldn’t remember why the two little girls suddenly argued, but he would always remember what happened next.

His Ivanka, the girl he had always adored, threw him out. “I know he’s old, okay?” she snarled at her neighbour, while tossing him out of the garden and onto the street.

“What are you doing, Ivanka?” Anna was shocked. “Bring him back before---“

But it was too late. A car drove over him, its cruel and unrelenting tires squashing his belly.

Luckily, a passerby found him the next day, cold and broken, and took him back to her own house, and cleaned and mended him.

And then, the kind woman sold him for a pound on eBay to another little girl, Melanie. Who gave him to Emily, her cousin, on her seventh birthday, saying that she was too old for such toys.

Emily was the only one that really loved me, huh, he laughed harshly. Yet she still could leave me behind.

It always happens. The human always lets the dolls down.

Always.



She does look pretty, Emily thought grudgingly. The Barbie looked straight ahead, not moving. Surprising even herself, she lifted up the Barbie and started straight into her eyes, a thing she had refused to do a few days ago.

Just as she expected, the Barbie’s painted brown eyes didn’t have that luster in her eyes, like how Shan had; like as if she was alive, a real entity on her own.

But her pale skin in the lazy afternoon sunlight gave off a slight sheen, her straight blond hair was perfectly combed; and her long and elongated body was just like the models she had seen on the covers of the magazines her Mummy read.

The Barbie’s lips were of the reddest red, even redder than Shan’s hair in the sunset. Her Mummy had said that it was lipstick, and the pretty blush on her face was make-up. I wonder if I could have that when I grow up, she wondered. I would be much prettier if I did.

For the first time she went home, she actually cracked into a half smile. Maybe I’ll give her a try!



They had listened to all of the tapes Jazzy could find, and repeated them again and again throughout their days in the cabin. But they could find nothing, except a beautiful rendition of Em’s lullaby.

And as the leaves on the trees outside started to turn gold and the flowers wilted, it had been a whole month since Emily had left them.

“I told you she wasn’t coming back, Shan.”

The rag doll didn’t reply. Instead, she let out a huge sigh and looked from her felt hands to the calico cat. “You’re right as always, Jazzy.”

Jazzy sighed and rested a paw on her shoulder. “Don’t be upset, Shan. We’re all still together, and that is what matters the most.”

Shannon attempted to grin, but she couldn’t. “I wish we didn’t have to become like this,” she whispered, trying her best to hide the tears that again threatened to overflow.

Maynard patted Shan’s hand with his fluffy wing. “Jazz’s right, you know, Shan. We’re still a family, no matter what happens.” he quacked.

“Definitely!” echoed Strawberry. She looked around, “I mean, who needs a person to stroke your gorgeous mane, right? You have your family to help you already!”

“Of course, Strawberry. We don’t need that foolish and stupid human.” Pete sniffed, his indigo trunk swinging, just like it used to be before Emmy left them.

“Yeah, but we don’t know how to pamper Princess Strawberry here, so she needs her the most,” Jazzy said slyly.

“Don’t you dare talk back to me, mister!” The dapple grey neighed huffily, tossing her head back. “I do not need tea parties and baths to live!”

The others giggled and guffawed, and after a while, Shan finally joined in. They laughed and laughed and laughed, letting all their sadness slowly but surely drift away from them in their grins and smiles.

The sun shone brighter, gloriously setting the trees and fallen leaves (and Shan’s plaits) on fire, signifying the end of a day, the end of their past, and the beginning of another new life. A life without their Emmy.

And as Shannon simply sat there with the others and watched the sun majestically retire from her throne, she couldn’t help feeling that something was not quite right. So she moved on. That’s okay. Her blood ran cold. But what happens to us next?



“You’re looking beautiful, Barbie!” Emsie cooed at the plastic doll that had her hair permed and dyed pink. “What do you want to do next?” She twirled her dolly around and thought for a while. “I know!” she said excitedly. “We can ride ponies!”

She pushed the white plastic horse in front of the plastic doll. “Come on, Barbie, let’s ride Judy! Trot, trot, trot; trotty trotty trot!” she sang, making trotting noises with her fingers.



“Aah!” Strawberry screamed. The dolls rushed over to the dapple grey, who was kneeling on the ground. “What is it?” Maynard asked, his voice quavering.

“I feel terrible,” she wailed. “My body is aching all over!” Jazzy asked urgently, “Where does it hurt, Strawberry?”

She gulped and whinnied, “Everywhere!”

“What does it feel like?” he prompted, tail twitching nervously.

“Like my body’s on fire!” she groaned, her head resting on Shannon’s shoulder. Jazzy gasped. “It’s too late,” he murmured, his voice breaking.

“What’s too late?” the others questioned, alarmed at Jazzy’s sudden grief. He bent his head and whispered, “That.”

They turned to look at Strawberry as she suddenly let out a series of horrible wails and flung her head in all directions. They cringed as they looked in horror at her spasm on the floor.

After what seemed an eternity, she was silent, and her beautiful white mane flipped no more. She shined and shimmered for a while, basking in the sun’s glow, until she vanished into thin air.

“What was that?” Shannon blurted, her little body shaking in fright. Jazzy looked up, his chest heaving, “That, my friend, is what we call fading away. Or moving on.”

They all stared at him, horrified. He continued quietly, “It means that Emmy has moved on with Strawberry’s substitute. Forever.”

“Does that mean that we will soon go through what she endured today?” Maynard stuttered.

Jazzy hesitated before nodding his head. “Yes.”

That night, as the chilly autumn wind swirled around them in the cabin, all Shan could think of was her. God, we need you, Emmy. We really do.



“Come on, Piggy Jean!” the little girl sang as she flung her new dolls up into the wintry blue sky. “You too, Teddy!”

She caught perfectly them in her arms when they landed. She giggled. “Wasn’t that fun?”

Emily patted the dolls on the head before heading back to her home, wondering if her Barbie missed her, wading through piles and piles of autumn leaves that were going to be burnt.



As Maynard “moved on”, Shannon cried, “We can’t just let ourselves fade away!” She pleaded with those big and brown felt eyes of hers, “What can we do, Jazzy?”

His sad, tired eyes stared back. “It’s impossible, Shan.”

Pete exclaimed, “Nothing is impossible! You said that yourself, Jasper.”

The calico cat, fur untidy and matted, closed his eyes and contemplated, ignoring the rare half-compliment from the wise heffalump. Should I tell them or not? He wondered. It might help… He sighed out loud.

“What is it?” Shannon begged. “What can we possibly do?”

Here goes nothing. “I’ve heard of stories…legends…that say that a doll who is moving on can be revived by the voice of its owner. That the pure, truest form of the owner’s love can call back even the most doomed toy back to life.”

"That's impossible!" Shan cried. "How could Em's voice bring back Maynard?"

"Do not underestimate the power of the human voice, Shannon," Pete said quietly, "One can do many great and wonderful things with it."

Jazzy hastened to add, “But we don’t have her voice right now! How could we do it?"

Pete, with a ghost of a smile on his face, said, “No, we do have her voice, Jasper. We do.”



Shannon desperately drags the tape recorder under the bed into the middle of the circle. Jasper uses all his remaining strength to pull poor dying Pete next to the machine. Please let this work, they prayed in their individual ways, please.

The dolls gather around the tape recorder, waiting for it to begin its song. The old dusty tape recorder crackles and crackles, trying to recall what it was supposed to do.

“Oh, come on, you stupid thing!” Jazzy roars, his eyes wet. Shan wrings her hands, and says nothing, her eyes pouring.

The tape recorder finally stops crackling, and unsteadily plays a hauntingly beautiful melody. Pete raises his head and weakly breathes a sigh of relief. Emsies' lullaby.

The two other dolls muster all the remaining strength they had, and starts to sing along with the little girl’s sweet voice.

Pete smiles. At least I’ll get to hear Emmy when I die.

And he closes his eyes, to dream of the good times; of when Emily still cared, putting down his aches and pains for the last time. When he was just a babe, not quite a heffalump yet. When Emsie took him in and loved and cherished him.

“No, Pete!” Shannon screamed. “Don’t leave us yet! We need you!”

He opens his eyes. The usual sparkle in them was already fading away, yet Pete still felt his heart beating even more strongly than before. “Em’s moved on without me, Shan,” he says wearily, “It’s time for me to move on, too.” He coughes, and continues, "But I know this, and this only --- that Shan cared for me. And that is all I ever need in this life."

He peers at the calico cat, a wry smile breaking. “I know you will take care of Shannon here, Jasper,” he breathes, “I trust you, little one.”

Then he twitches for a while before he lays still, his indigo trunk swinging no more. Gaspard yowls and his paws press onto where Pete’s heart used to be, but his paws go right through the fading form of the heffalump. It glimmers for a moment before it disappears forever.

Pete is gone, Shannon miserably thinks, her heart feeling like it was torn apart. I have no-one but Jazzy left now.

Over in Killarney, many years ago
My mother sang this song to me in tones so sweet and low

“We’ve done everything to save ourselves, right?” Shannon tiredly asks Jazzy, who was curled up in a ball of dusty fluff beside her.

“Yes. We have.”He raised his head and nodded.

She hesitates for a bit before asking tentatively, “Do you think that Emily truly cared for us, Jazzy?” He smiles for the first time in days.

“Of course, Shan. She loved you, me, Pete, Maynard, Strawberry…” he trails off, lost in his own recollections.



She sighs. “I just it hadn’t been this way. That Emily still loves us enough to keep us alive.”

His grin widens. “But she did, didn’t she?” he mused, whiskers twitching. “She still loves us both enough to keep us from fading away…yet.”



“Yeah…” she grins as well. “Our hearts still belong to her… for now.”

He lets out a hiss, but manages to grin back through the sudden pain. “Not for much longer.”



They both arch their backs in pain and agony, that were like knives constantly stabbing into their bodies, their souls, their hearts. “Not much longer now,” Shannon gasps, “Not much longer.”

Jazzy breathes, “Do you think we’ll ever meet Emily again, Shan?”

Shannon gave him a funny smile that made him grin back through all the pain. “I think so, Jazz. After all, our hearts will always belong to…”

They shudder and shiver, convulsing on the dusty ground. Then they were gone.



Emily raised her head, looking up at the bright blue sky as she sat in the train compartment on her way to Dakota Woods Summer Camp. “What do you want to wear, Barbie?” she looked over to the plastic doll. “A frock or a pair of jeans?” She held up Shannon’s favourite frock.

“Hmm… The frock definitely looks better on you…” she decided, and dressed Barbie up. She tilted her head as she stared at her doll, and muttered, “You know, Barbie, you remind me of someone, but I just can’t remember who…”

Hey Rosie Here as one of the four Musketeers to review at your service

First, wow! This has been expanded like a bazillion times more! Well done! Now onto the review.

iceprincess wrote:“Of course!” the little girl replied as the first few drops of rain splashed onto her tiny outstretched hands. She brought her hand up to her eyes and looked at the small puddle as Jessica rose up and shut the window, drawing the blinds down.

What kind of train is this? Most modern day trains have no openable windows due to risks of things/people falling out.

The train compartment instantly dimmed, and the little girl watched as the lamp overhead cast shadows all around, on her sleeping companions’ faces. She leaned forward and beckoned Jessica to come closer, cupping a hand and putting her mouth near to her mentor’s ear.

Fantastic way of getting rid of the whole "no adults" problem

“I’m sure you are,” Rosanne said soothingly, “But even big girls need their beauty sleep! Now go to sleep, now.”
Enter when a new person is talking.
The little girl sighed. “Good night, Jess,” she called out.

“Come on, Em! Time to get up!” a voice interrupted the little girl’s dreams. What in the world was Jess doing? she wondered. Who would ever want to get up from this warm and comfy and snuggly bed? “We’re nearly home!” another voice cheered. Was that Roxi? She was awake already?

I think you should have mentioned something about the other children earlier. Just because it's a tad confusing suddenly adding them in here

The little girl rubbed her eyes and peered out. It was still raining cats and dogs (no, heffalumps and woozles, she corrected herself),

Naw! That's adorable!

“We’re nearly home,” she echoed her friend’s words, and looked up at a grinning Jessica.
Again, enter when a new person is speaking.
“Yes, we are, so let’s prepare, children!”

Everyone ignored his jab, and Shannon raised her head, absentmindedly absent-mindedly wrapping her woolen woollen braid around her fingers. “Emsie’ll come and take us all back, just you wait and see, Jazz.

＊＊＊＊＊＊

Not quite sure why you've changed this Like, from "--------" to "* * *".

The rain had long stopped; sleep had long wrapped its coils around her family, soothing them through its wispy tendrils. Only the harsh moon remained awake, along with the occasional breeze that ran the tips of its fingers through the resting field of daffodils and tulips and other flowers that Shannon couldn’t remember the names of.

You have scarily improved in your writing style. I can tell you've went to great efforts to change this, and this new edition is marvellous. Your descriptions are beautiful and full-filling.

It was Jazzy returning from the big cabin next door, an electronic device of which he believed was one of the camp’s tape recorders in his mouth. He gingerly spat out the big dusty thing underneath the bed, and returned to his corner of the room. Maybe we’ll find out why Emmy’s gone from the tape recorder, he thought.

A bit of a stretch. Why would the tape recorder tell them anything about why Emily left them?

It was a bright autumn day when he stopped being naïve. His little Ivanka had brought him out to play with her neighbour, sitting on their porch.

Ivanka is a really weird name for a child.

Luckily, a passerby found him the next day, cold and broken, and took him back to her own house, and cleaned and mended him.

And then, the kind woman sold him for a pound on eBay to another little girl, Melanie. Who gave him to Emily, her cousin, on her seventh birthday, saying that she was too old for such toys.

Woah. A lot of background for one toy right there. I think you should cut out the middle people. Just have the girl throw the toy on the footpath, and have Emily pick it up straight away. Or Emily's mother while they're going for a walk. Don't add ebay into this sweet story

And as the leaves on the trees outside started to turn gold and the flowers wilted, it had been a whole month since Emily had left them.

That's a long time. But if it takes Emily that long to replace Shan in her heart, then that's so awesome

“Does that mean that we will soon go through what she endured today?” Maynard stuttered, "As we get replaced?"

The dolls gather around the tape recorder, waiting for it to begin its song. The old dusty tape recorder crackles and crackles, trying to recall what it was supposed to do.

Fantastic.

She sighs. “I just wish it hadn’t been this way. That Emily still loves us enough to keep us alive.”

His grin widens. “But she did, didn’t she?” he mused, whiskers twitching. “She still loves us both enough to keep us from fading away…yet.”

That's so sad!

They shudder and shiver, convulsing on the dusty ground. Then they were gone.

This version is so much more powerful than the older one. You've done a great job!

Absolutely loved this rewrite, Rosie. It was really well written, and far more descriptive than the previous one. The story had a whole heap of emotion and it was a nice read. I'm still confused about one thing though. Are the toys on the train, or at the camp? You mentioned "cabins" somewhere, and both trains and camps have cabins The only other thing I can think of is that the toys probably have to be described right away. Jazzy is the cat, Pete is a heffalump etc etc, because it wasn't until halfway through the story that I realized Manyard was a bird(?) and not just a round ball of fluff I'm sorry if this review wasn't helpful I just seriously enjoyed reading it so much that I couldn't find many mistakes

Awesome story, inspiring improvement.

Keep on writing! One for all, and all for one!

- Jai, one of the four Musketeers! Yah!

Hey princess! Sorry this took so long, but I got buried under a pile of English so high I almost got lost forever. Hahaha. Anyway, on to the review. Seemingly got A LOT of the good points. I'll try to not be too repetitive.

Grammar

“I’m sure you are,” Rosanne said soothingly, “But even big girls need their beauty sleep! Now go to sleep, now.”

The little girl sighed. “Good night, Jess,” she called out.

Skip a line when you bring in a new speaker. Also, you only need one "now."

she finally succumbed and promptly fell asleep,

"Finally" and "promptly" are rather...opposing terms, right here. I think you don't need "promptly."

her Mummy thought to herself savagely as she strode down the hallway to dial her Daddy.

I don't really like the way that "savagely" is used here. I couldn't really see a mother thinking that way about toys.

to ‘go out for a while’?”

Here, you want it to look like this: "to 'go out for a while?'" rather than the question mark in the middle of the quotations.

sleep had long wrapped its coils around her family, soothing them through its wispy tendrils.

I love this line. So much. :]

her dapple gray and pink coat standing out as always.

I think it's supposed to be "dappled," but I'm not quite sure. :/

For the first time she went home,

That sounds kind of off. I'd suggest, "For the first time since she'd been home."

Plot:
Oh my gosh! Princess, that was wonderful! I love how you expanded it, and you added so much. The characters, the emotion, the everything was just brilliant. The tense switch was nice, and you pulled it off well. The ending---brilliant! I do wish I could find out if she found her other dolls when she went back to camp.

I like how you use older technology, the recorder and the train windows...very nice. I loved it, really. I don't have much to pick on, if anything. This was such an improvement!

Keep Writing!

~Sporks

*clicks like and submit*

Okay, hey there, this is Azrael - one of the Four Musketeers - at your service. Though, regrettably, I can't say much (my compliments are found after my nit-picking). Just a few minor things I picked up on:

1) What's the go with all the font size changes? It really confused me. I know you wanted to show the difference between real text and the song (and all that), but even the song changed font size as well as different paragraphs. Please be consistent.

2) The formatting, which Seemingly picked up on. You seem to change sporadically between *** and ---. I'm not sure which one looks better, but please pick one which suits your own aesthetic taste.

3) ... THERE IS NOTHING ELSE! >:(


Overall:
I feel terribly useless saying this, but... there is nothing else I can say. This is a very moving story. It made me cry. It has a beautiful meaning in it and I can't find anything else wrong with it. The characters are well-made and they have the feeling of actually having drawn personality from real-life inspiration. The plot is nice, I can see very little grammatical errors (though you might want to do a fine-comb search, just in case) and basically... I loved it. Your descriptions are beautiful and mesmerising. You really have a way with words.

So, this story is wonderful and I regret to inform you I fail as a reviewer!

Have A Nice Day,
Azrael.

HI there! Dexterra here

I really have no faults to this at all - bar a few grammar mistakes which were already picked up by others.

This was a really sweet, endearing story. I also liked the "fading away" of the animals, was really cute

That was utterly heart rending, but now for a proper review.

You set up what seems to be a feel good story, at the start the little girl heading home happily. Then comes the conflict, the toys being left behind. At this point I was suspecting you would follow the happy and cliche'd ending of the toys being saved or the toys making their way home or... something, but instead I found myself both surprised and saddened.

An excellent job has been done setting up this story as something its not, even luring the reader into believing a happy ending is coming even when its not. It almost feels like a punch to the face when the realisation sets in, but this punch comes slowly, and while its no more sudden it still bloody hurts.

The characters are very sympathetic in their different aspects, and you've taken the time to give them each their own little piece of depth with a story or the other characters opinions. The girl is realistic, giving the story a more painfully tragic ending once you reach it. Likewise, the various toys clearly had their own personalities and the places they fit into a normal, happier story, making this one all the more sad at the end when the cat is right and one of the last two there.

So yes, this was a good story, a great story even, with a full array of unpleasant surprises that go against the norm of what you would see in a childrens toy themed story, and I liked it.

Now for some criticism. Sometimes the cutesy nature seemed a bit painfully obvious, as if you trying to make it all adorable because they're stuffed toys. If this was a story aimed for children, I'd say its appropriate, but the further you go up the age ladder the more they'll immediately understand the fact and be able to relate to it mentally.

This line;

But her pale skin in the lazy afternoon sunlight gave off a slight sheen, her straight blond hair was perfectly combed; and her long and elongated body was just like the models she had seen on the covers of the magazines her Mummy read.

in particular made me want to slap my forehead. After having this nice description of how the little girl was admiring her toy you end the sentence with a reminder that this is a story for children. But then, that's fine, as I don't believe the story was aimed for people my age and so my personal gripe there means nothing.

Good work.