AN --- I really hate the title of this piece. Normally, when I write pieces, I add something in there to make a title out of, but I never intended to post this somewhere where I would have to make a title for it, so I didn't. But now I've decided I need a title and... well, there you go. Otherwise, it's one of my favorite of my own pieces!

This was written as my addition to The Reviews Lounge forum's 'Christmas Project' - you can find all the other entries and our 'Rainbow Project', too, on 'The Reviews Lounge' account.

Anything you recognize, I don't own.

Snowflakes fell gracefully down from the sky, twirling majestically. All around Myrtle were rosy cheeks, sniffling noses and laughter; and rows upon rows upon rows of sparkling windows full of toys and books and everything anyone could ever want for Christmas. As any self-respecting nine year old girl would be, Myrtle was mindlessly attracted to the sparkliest of the displays. It happened to be a toy store - decked out with beautiful toy trains and jacks and smiling child mannequins show just how fun these toys were. However, when Myrtle got close enough to see, dragging her mum behind her, Myrtle only had eyes for the center piece of the display; a beautiful China doll.

Golden curls fell delicately around her exquisitely carved shoulders and collar bones. Blue eyes stared placidly ahead, eyelashes a smoky, genetically incorrect, long, black. Full, pink cheeks and perfect red lips, pursed ever so slightly. Bosom curving softly down to an impossibly tiny waist, spreading out to wider hips and thinning out once more to perfectly toned legs ending in manicured toes.

And, suddenly, Myrtle knew that she wanted that doll. And so Myrtle tucked a chunk of lanky, greasy hair behind her ear, tried to avoid catching her reflection in the mirror (as always), informed her mum that that was what she wanted for Christmas and went on her not-so-merry way.

It wasn't until she lay, curled in bed, that night that Myrtle realized that she wanted more then to own that doll, she wanted to be that doll.

She swung her legs over the edge of her bed and quietly padded to the vanity mirror across her tiny bedroom, lifting one hand up to trace the completely unflattering line of her face.

Swollen, tiny, baggy, grey eyes, usually covered by horn-rimmed glasses, overgrown black eyebrows and paunchy, zit covered cheeks. Thin, dry lips and double chins. If she smiled - she rarely did, simply because it made her look worse - widely spaced, yellowing teeth.

Myrtle was the ugliest thing that she herself had ever seen. Her mother told her she was 'unconventionally beautiful', but Myrtle wasn't stupid at least, and she knew better. She could see herself in the mirror quite clearly, thank you very much.

Myrtle frowned, twisting her reflection further before padding miserably back to bed. She made a mental note to tell Mum that she didn't want the doll anymore, come morning.