|The Days: As It Once Was
Author: miragedelgado PM
When she can remember every multiversal incarnation of herself, does the question "Who is Donna Troy?" become an albatross around the neck?Rated: Fiction T - English - Chapters: 2 - Words: 1,308 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 03-18-12 - id: 7935650
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The flames burned, casting an eerie orange glow which illuminated the stuffed doll Donna Evans cradled in her hands. The toy was small and wretched, a horrid-looking thing covered in twenty-plus years worth of soot and ash, held half-together by a few stands of thread. Looking at it in the fire's light, she couldn't believe she had kept it all these years.
And why had she? This doll came home from the orphanage with her. Mom believed it had been the last gift bequeathed to Donna by her biological parents. It's been her security blanket, her spirit totem and her rock. It's always been there, just like the moon, the stars and the sea.
It's accompanied her everywhere. At home, where it was her favorite playmate until her little sister was born, and at the school bus, where she punched little Tommy James smack in the jaw for even thinking of playing keep-away with her beloved doll. Sleep during naptime in Kindergarden was impossible without it by her side. She insisted that Mom make Dolly a plate of her own at supper. Bathtime was an absolute horror; Dad had to literally pry the damn thing from her hands every time she went in the tub. And of course, it accompanied her to sleep, to scare the boogey men back under the bed.
Once puberty hit, and boys had replaced toys, it became forgotten. But her mother had kept it, storing it safely away in the attic until one day, with her youngest heading off to college, Fay Evans was finally ready to dispose of a lifetime of memories. Any toys still in good shape would be donated to charity, the rest thrown in the trash.
And so it was that while helping her mother clean, she rediscovered her beloved, forgotten Dolly. She couldn't believe Mom had kept it all those years. It was a wretched looking, soot covered thing, held half-together by a few stands of thread. It looked so much smaller than she had remembered.
Donna Evans cradled the stuffed doll in her hands. It was too frayed to donate as a hand-me-down; throwing it away was disrespectful.
When she had told her family that she was finally going to get rid of her once most cherished object, Mom said "Pumpkin, are you sure want to burn it? You should keep it. It's the last connection you have to your real family."
Donna just smiled. That wasn't true at all.
She places Dolly into the funeral pyre. The flames burn bright. Ashes rise into the night.