Deep Blue Eyes & Broken Mirrors

This story is for everyone who doesn't quite see their own beauty, everyone who is but a glance away, yet just can't find it. This story is for my beautiful Elizabeth.

Deep Blue Eyes and Broken Mirrors

 

        There once was a doll, a doll like all other dolls. This doll was gorgeous, perfect; her hair was the most golden of blondes, her eyes were the deepest of blues, her skin, the purest of pales. This doll, though, unlike other dolls, was no less living and breathing than you or I.

Many years ago, there was also a toymaker, an artisan of masterpieces, a man with a youthful heart & an undying imagination. The old man had made toys for many years, and in every one of his creations, he put so much pride, love and passion into them that they nearly sprung to life. Yet, out of all of his wonderful creations, the one which inherited his love, his spirit, and true life itself, was Elizabeth.

Elizabeth had touched many things, discovered so many enthralling materials and textures. She discerned many riveting colors and patterns in the dim light of the old, dusty shop, tasted the timeless delicacies of her dollhouse kitchen, smelled all of the peculiar old woods and fabrics strewn about the shop, she heard all of the curious clinks and clunks of the wood and tools, the scurrying mice and the toymaker’s old records.

        Elizabeth was never sold, never adopted and never seen by the outside world, it was in the old toymaker’s shop that his final masterpiece resided. It was this shop; this dark, lonely shop, that Elizabeth would call home.

 

He told Elizabeth how beautiful she was every single day. It was these things that made Elizabeth a very happy doll; these things that made smile oh so radiantly.

This made Elizabeth a very happy doll

One day, the toymaker had left to buy his groceries but a tragic heart attack took him that night, a tragic heart attack that left Elizabeth all alone…

 

Elizabeth lived in the dollhouse the toymaker had made for her, the most beautiful dollhouse that had ever been built. This house had long since been cared for or maintained. The walls were peeling, the couches had begun to lose their stuffing, the floors had become a bit of a mess, yet above all and most importantly, all of the mirrors were either cracked or caked with years of filth…

Elizabeth left her dollhouse on occasion to visit her neighbors, who all seemed so unlike her, she thought. These toys were never loved nor taken care of in the way Elizabeth had been and had long since lost their traces of life. Their faces & paint had faded away or peeled off. Their clothes were ragged & some had lost limbs to the resident rodents, but not Elizabeth. Elizabeth was too pure, too grand to fall into disrepair. She had long forgotten how the toymaker had loved her & how he had told her she was so beautiful. While she had not aged a day, had not lost a hint of her magnificence, her sight was still limited to her now dirty, torn & unwashed clothing. Without mirrors & her torn clothing casting an illusion, without ever having seen the ocean in her eyes, her golden blonde locks or her flawless figure, she was none the wiser to think she was above her neighbor’s poor condition.

This made Elizabeth a very sad doll.

Elizabeth spent her days crying, without anyone or anything to love, she found none in return. The smile she was never seen without had wilted to a sad, tear-stained frown. The vivid colors she once saw in the shop had taken on tints of dreary grey. The smells of cloths, woods & metals grew so routine; became such a mundane thing that they befitted dim sensations. The smooth sanded wood, soft satin couches, and tarnished doorknobs only provided so much spur, so much feeling. The scampering of rats had turned into a monotonous choir; Elizabeth had forgotten the sound of laughter. The end to her sadness & pain was no further than a glance, yet a glance was more than she could dream of.

Elizabeth was a very sad doll

Elizabeth would never guess the most important day of her long, lonely life was approaching oh so quickly. The day which I speak of was the day that the will of the toymaker was received by his nephew, now a grown man of nine & thirty years. It was mere days after that that the man, his wife & only daughter had moved to New York to claim the will & raise their daughter.

        It was on April the 19^th of year 1946 that the doors to the toymaker’s shop would open once again.

        Elizabeth rose from her torn bed to a peculiar sight. A sight Elizabeth had not seen in years; sunlight. She closed her eyes again believing it was only a dream. When she heard the creak of the old door open and footsteps take its place, she shot out of her bed.

        The Man, his wife & daughter entered the shop.

        The little girl was awestricken with the beauty of the shop, she was in heaven. She inevitably made her way to the most grand of all the dollhouses in the shop, Elizabeth’s house. She saw Elizabeth standing outside of the front door. Elizabeth looked up at her, too stricken to find emotions.

        “You’re so pretty! What’s your name?” the little girl asked.

        “I… I’m Elizabeth.” She responded with a delay.

        “You look like you’ve been crying!” the girl asked.

        Elizabeth was speechless while the young girl gently wiped away the smudges her tears had left. The gentle care & love overtook her with memories of the toymaker.

        “What did you find sweetheart?” The father asked.

        “A doll! She’s so pretty!” The girl replied “her name is Elizabeth.”

        The girl’s parents walked over to her, scanning the shop on their way. They looked down and saw a doll standing outside of a house, a smile on its face.

        “She is very pretty, what was her name?” the father asked with a smile.

        “Elizabeth! She told me” the daughter beamed.

        “She is very pretty!” the mother told her daughter “She has big blue eyes just like you sweetheart, and pretty blonde hair too.”

        “Can I have her mom..?”

        The mother turned to her husband with a questioning glance.

        After a moment, the girl’s father replied

        “Well, we certainly couldn’t take her without her home could we?”

        The little girl’s smile lit up the dim walls of the shop.

 

        Elizabeth spent the whole way home conversing with the little girl, explaining the toymaker & telling her all of her stories; she learned they weren’t too different at all.

        “What’s she saying sweetheart?” the mother asked.

        “She was in that shop for so long, all alone… it’s really sad, but she likes a bunch of things that I do! She’s perfect mom!”

        The little girl went on and on about Elizabeth.

        After settling in, Elizabeth found her way around the little girl’s room but found herself shocked when she glanced towards the mirror. She saw a gorgeous figure she knew to be very similar to her height with long golden locks of hair, such pure, pale white skin & deep, ocean blue eyes. She raised her hand and saw the figure do as she did, she closed one eye and the figure mimicked her as well. After a game of imitation charades, Elizabeth found herself smiling and dancing in the mirror, unable to look away.

        “I… I am beautiful…” Elizabeth thought “This is me, and I am beautiful.”

Since the day Elizabeth truly saw herself for what she was, she has never been seen without a beaming smile.

This made Elizabeth a very happy doll

       

Time passed as it inevitably does, the little girl grew into a young woman & eventually a wife, then mother, yet through all of this time, she had never forgotten Elizabeth. When her daughter was old enough, she gave the dollhouse & doll to her daughter. She found it a most curious thing, though, when talking with her daughter that she told her the doll’s name was, in fact, Elizabeth.

 

Elizabeth is a doll no less living and breathing you or I, it only takes a heart & an imagination as beautiful as she to see it

Author's Note

This is for imagination & for everyone who knows belief can sometimes be more powerful than the truth. For all of the beautiful people out there who just can't see it yet.
This is my first story of this type, so be gentle (= although any response would be appreciated.