Disclaimer: this post contains explicit descriptions of cruelty to dolls. Lovers of dolls please avoid reading further.
The perpetuator was a girl of around 5 years of age. She was still a single child and doted on by her parents. Because both of her parents were working full time, they compensated part of their love for the perpetuator with materialistic gratifications, such as pretty dresses and toys. Especially soft toys. She had no lack of soft toys to keep her company.
One day, her loving mother presented her with the prettiest cloth doll any little girl could ever lay her little hands on. The doll had beads for eyes, a wide smile sewn on her face with pink thread, pink rogue on her cheeks, yellow yarn tied into 2 neat ponytails on either side of her hair, and blue and white pinafore for clothes. This doll would possibly win the hearts of all the little girls who had had the fortune of owning her.
But alas! The perpetuator hated the doll, for some reason nobody knew to this day. She hated the doll so much, that she did a gruesome act on the doll one day.
On that fateful day, the perpetuator found some rope made from rubber bands strung together and proceeded to tie the doll to the handle of the wardrobe. Next, she found a blue ball point pen and drew several criss-crosesd lines on both cheeks of the doll, defacing her pretty rogued cheeks instantly. Her anger undissipated, the perpeptuator proceeded to lop off locks of the doll’s yellow hair with a pair of scissors and dumped them into the dustbin. Then she got hold of the cane at home and brought the cane down on the doll’s body repeatedly, and forcefully. Again, and again, she caned the doll.
Until the perpetuator’s mother heard the commotion and came into the room to investigate. The mother was shocked to the core at the display of cruelty. Recovering her wits, the mother immediately released the doll from the chains of imprisonment, and removed the doll from her daughter’s sight. Energy spent and anger finally dissipated, the perpetuator calmed down visibly.
The mother later disposed of the doll’s mangled body in secret. And she never, ever, bought another doll for her ‘crazy’ daughter. The mother did agonise in private, worried her daughter will grow up to become a psychopath. But her daughter was normal otherwise; she loved all her animal soft toys and took great care of them. The daughter even cried bitterly when any of her soft toys became broken with old age and years of hugging. But the daughter still disliked dolls of any kind and mentally cringed when she was near them, although she no longer hated dolls as she did that once, in another lifetime.
Eventually, the daughter grew up and had a little girl of her own. When her young daughter first showed interest in the Disney princesses, she was vehemently against getting a plastic doll for her daughter. After much persuasion from her husband, she eventually relented and let her husband buy her daughter her first doll, a Snow White.
At first, her young daughter was enthusiastic about her Snow White princess, and oblivious to her mother’s adversion to dolls, repeatedly asked her mother to comb and re-comb the curly black locks. Her mother obliged willingly, much to her own surprise. Slowly, through her daughter, the mother grew to be less and less adverse to dolls. The mother even walked through the rows and rows of dolls at the girls’ section of toy stores, enthusiastically shopping for dolls for her daughter, and admiring the pretty little things.
As the novelty wore off, and with only an elder brother as her playmate, her daughter stopped playing with her one and only doll. Instead both kids loved playing with their (animal) soft toys! The daughter was still interested in girly stuff, like trinkets, all things pink and Disney princesses, but she did not play with her plastic doll.
Determined to give her daughter a normal, girly childhood, the mother combed the shelves one day in search of a suitable cloth doll for her precious daughter. Of all the Lalaloopsy soft dolls available, her eyes fell on this doll immediately:
Ember Flicker Flame (Image taken from http://loodollhq.com)
By the time the mother finished reading the character of Ember at the back of the box, she decided this was the perfect doll for her fiesty daughter. By the time she held Ember in her hands waiting to present it to her daughter, the mother who once hated dolls had already fallen in love with Ember.
Seeing her daughter’s less-than-enthusiastic reception to Ember, however, brought back the vivid memory to the mother, her cruelty to the doll her own mother had lovingly bought all those years ago. How much pain she must have caused her own mother, to see her daughter destroy such a pretty gift from the heart! She was filled with a deep, deep remorse of the crazy thing she once did, but there was no way she could turn back the clock now.
Ember is now a constant reminder of the wrong the mother once did when she was young, a consolation that her daughter is a much kinder girl than she was, and that perceptions could change over life events, such as liking dolls. Maybe one day when her daughter outgrows her toys, the mother can re-claim Ember to give her all the love she should have given to her own pretty doll of yesteryears as a form of compensation…