That Little Girl

Life is simple here. I eat, I sleep, and I play with my paper dolls. This place is good. The people here are nice to me.

My favorite is Miss Leanne. She has a pretty face—round with two dimples, one at each corner of her mouth. Miss Leanne brings me my paper dolls. I have hundreds on the shelf in my little room. Miss Leanne always remembers my birthday. She brings me a cake every year on that day. Tomorrow I am twenty-two, and I know that Miss Leanne will have a cake for me—probably chocolate with the raspberry icing in the middle, because that’s my favorite kind. I’ll give a piece of my cake to her and pieces to the other helpers and of course save the biggest one for me.

I like it here. I like the clean white walls and the brown shelf where I keep my dolls. I like my closet with my clothes that Miss Leanne and the other helpers bring, clothes that fit me just right. I like the gray-and-black speckled carpet on the floor.

The only thing I don’t like is my bed. That little cot with the blue comforter does not bring me any comfort at night when I dream about that little girl. Last night I dreamt about her.

That little girl cries while her daddy hits her with his belt. That little girl cowers when he screams. And that little girl lies curled up under her bed and wonders why when he has left, when his voice echoes in her ears. That little girl wishes she has a mommy who will tell daddy not to hurt her like he does. But that little girl has never had a mommy, and that little girl has never loved her daddy.

That little girl in my dreams is there every time I close my eyes. I wake up yelling and Miss Leanne is there and tells me that it’s okay, that I’m safe. I wish Miss Leanne had been there to help that little girl. She’s so kind to me. I’m sure she could have made that little girl feel better when her daddy had left. Every time Miss Leanne finds me yelling we play with my paper dolls. She is the mommy and I am the little-paper-doll-girl. I like playing dolls with Miss Leanne.

Some of the people here don’t want to be here. Some of them say they don’t know who they are. Some of them scream every night to be let out of the asylum, to go see their parents or their kids. But I know who I am. I am me, and I love Miss Leanne, and paper dolls, and birthday cake. I hate my blue comforter and I’m afraid of the dark and when I close my eyes I am haunted by a little girl being beaten by her daddy. And I know that I am who I am today because that little girl was me.

First off I must say that I really like the plot to this short, yet powerful piece of writing. I like the way you refer to the "Little Girl" as another person instead of just plain, "Me" and "I." It really adds another layer of intrigue.

So yeah, fairly short. Maybe you could add to this in some way? But a great story none-the-less.

Keep it up!

~ T.K

I liked this piece. It was short, but it got its point across. The voice you used help characterize the speaker, and that was nicely done. For example, always calling the lady "Miss Leanne." It flowed well except for this sentence:

And that little girl lies curled up under her bed and wonders why when he has left, when his voice echoes in her ears.

For some reason I got caught up here and had to reread it a couple of times. Maybe rephrase it? Perhaps it is just me, though.

This was a nice piece short as it is, though I do feel if you wanted to you could lengthen it and go into more detail. It's lovely as it is, though. I guess this isn't much of a review, as I'm not really doing much critiquing here.

Anyways, nice work!
~Masq

Wonderful story, though sounding quite sad, but I see it meaningful and very deep.
I like the simplicity of words you've used in your story, the small details (like the paper dolls and birthday cake) that add too much deepness and significance to the piece.

The only thing I don’t like is my bed. That little cot with the blue comforter does not bring me any comfort at night when I dream about that little girl. Last night I dreamt about her.

I don't think it is necessary to mention that sentence here. It can be either omitted from here or moved to the next paragraph. However, it adds nothing in its place except for it is repeated.

That little girl wishes she has a mommy who will tell daddy not to hurt her like he does. But that little girl has never had a mommy, and that little girl has never loved her daddy.

Again, the sentence is repeated in a different way. The reader had already got the idea that the girl hates her dad and that she doesn't have a mother from the first sentence.

Repetition is not a bad thing at some parts, though. For example, I like how you referring the 'little girl' to the main character and I believe it was a good idea to keep repeating it through out the story.

The last paragraph/the ending was really amazing and very beautifully written, kinda leaving an open ending for the reader to think about this girl and the subject you're talking about-child abuse.

The story was pretty enjoyable to read. Great job!