Snowfall Valley

Snowfall Episode 2: China Doll
“What a beautiful doll! My daughter would love her, how much?” The man exclaimed, pointing to a beautiful doll, which in the right light seemed to be reaching for him from the window display of the antique toy shop. She wore a pale grey dress with white crioline skirts and black stockings. Her shoes were dark brown and she wore a black bonnet over her long jet black curls tied back in a white ribbon, her eyes were the most interesting feature of all, they were pitch black and elegantly narrow as though the doll were meant to be Asian and looked almost human, outlined in black paint. In her porcelain hands she held a music box; it was black with silver lines all over it and a silver lock with a skull on it.

“Well, sir, her hair and eye lashes are real human hair and she’s made of fine porcelain from the Far East, it was very costly to acquire her and I couldn’t charge less than five hundred dollars for her.” The old woman said, her face was wrinkled with age and stress and her hair was stark white, but she’d been getting this way since she was in her thirties. The man felt badly for her, first her son died, then her stepson was sentenced to death and finally her husband had died of a heart attack, how awful for her.

“Well, Mrs. Kennedy, I couldn’t very well pay less than two thousand dollars for her.” The man finally said, smiling and handing Helena the money.

“Bless you, sir.” Helena Kennedy said, tears welling in her old eyes. She put the doll in a beautiful box and gift wrapped it with lovely pink paper and a pink ribbon. She gave the box to the man and smiled, ending the sale with her usual, “Enjoy your purchase, friend, and thank you for your business!” She waved.

The man brought the box to his car, fastened it into the passenger seat and drove off for home. Snowfall Valley was not a large town and so home was no more than ten minutes from the Market district. As the car sped along down the lonely road to the enormous manor his family called home. The road was newly paved and so he rode smoothly, enjoying it as a young man should, his fancy Brookes Brothers suit and Armani glasses were enough to show his status in life, but he went further with his five hundred dollar hair cut and red Porsche.

Upon pulling up to the house, he saw a white stretch limo parked outside. ‘Claire must be home from kindergarten.’ He thought with a smile. His deduction was proved correct as a little girl with pale skin, freckles and bright red hair pulled up into pigtails stepped out of the car in her little checkered jumper which the exclusive private preparatory academy required as a uniform (which had two hundred dollars), a mere penny compare to the price of the school (at four million dollars a year). That was nothing though; William P. Kensington the Third was a multi-millionaire after all. (But who, besides poor Helena, is not in Snowfall Valley?). He also noticed a pink convertible in the driveway. His wife, Christina, was also home, he noticed. He let Claire go in before him so she would not know he was home, he wanted the doll to be a complete surprise.

He leaned into the Porsche, undoing the seatbelt on the box and grabbing it, striding up to the house with the large box in hand. He raised his free hand to knock on the door and call out “Special delivery for Claire Alice Kensington!” No sooner had he said that, the girl rushed out.

“A present for me, daddy!?” She cried out excitedly leaping up, trying to grab the box from him.

“No, no dear. You’ll have to open this is your room, it’s more expensive than any other toy you have.” He knelt down and whispered the last part to her as though it were an enormous secret.

“Okay daddy!” She squealed excitedly, running upstairs with the box, almost tripping in her hurry to open the present.

“Christina, honey! I bought Claire the best present! Come watch her open it and get the maid to bring a camera!” William shouted excitedly to his wife, who clicked towards him on ridiculously high pink heels which matched her suit jacket, white blouse, pencil skirt and pillbox hat.

“Coming darling!” Christina Whitfield-Kensington called to her husband, her short bobbed blonde hair glistening under her hat in the light. She had big blue eyes and a smile that seemed too obnoxious to possibly be real, those smiling lips stained pink with lipstick. “Rita! Hurry up with that camera!” She shouted to her maid.

The somber gaunt maid followed slowly, her plain brown shoes had no arch support so walking quickly wasn’t something she could do. Her blue housedress and white apron were stained with sauces for the dinner she was preparing and her long black hair was wreck under her little cap. “Coming, meesus Chreestina.” She called in a phony Spanish accent, which was what these shallow upper class folk expected, a woman who could barely speak English. In truth, Rita spoke perfect English, she was born in Spain, not Mexico (her bosses frequently called her ‘the Mexican girl’) and she was a highly efficient office worker, which was what she’d interviewed for, but Christina thought ‘The Mexican girl will look so cute in a sweet little housekeeper’s uniform’ so instead of hiring her for the conglomerate that the snotty heiress owned, Rita was hired as a nanny and house keeper. “Usted conseguirá suyo, usted ramera inimaginable.” Rita hissed under her breath.

“What was that, Rita?” Christina smirked.

“I said: I am glad your child ees happy, meesus Chreestina.” Rita rolled her eyes. “Bitch.” Rita coughed into her hand as she walked up the stairs after William and Christina, dutifully carrying the camera.

When they arrived upstairs Claire had just begun unwrapping her present. She shrieked with joy when she saw the doll, hugging it tightly. William and Christina both sighed happily as their child began to play with the doll.

“She told me her name is Yue.” Claire told her parents, smiling brightly.
“Of course she did, hon.” Christina giggled.
“What an imagination our little girl has.” William smiled, gripping Christina’s shoulder.
Rita knelt next to Claire. “Use caution, Claire, dolls can be wonderful but they also have something strange about them, particularly this one. Don’t talk to her even if she talks to you.” She whispered to the girl. Claire trusted Rita; after all, Rita was more attentive than her own parents and was around more often.

“And look, sweetie, she has a music box too! You can play a song!” Christina giggled.
Claire gulped and turned the crank on the music box and the doll’s mouth open and she began to sing in a beautiful voice: ‘The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree, sing all a green willow…Her hand on her bosom her head on her knee, sing willow, willow, willow…’

“What a depressing song.” William said.
“I think it’s cute.” Christina giggled.
“It’s from a play, mi chica.” Rita smiled at Claire. “It’s the willow song from Othello.”
“What you just said, ‘mi chica’” Claire smiled happily. “It means ‘my girl’! See? I remember!” She smiled.
‘Sing all a green willow must be my garland; let nobody blame him his scorn I approve.’ William could swear the doll’s deep black eyes stared at him as she sang that line.
Suddenly, the doll’s eyes seemed to glare daggers at Christina, whose face suddenly went white. “H…Honey, I need to go to bed…” She said to William in a weak voice, heading off to bed. William nodded sympathetically, looking at the doll with a convulsive shudder. Claire put the doll on the shelf and lay down to go to bed. Rita sighed and tucked her in, singing her a lullaby, gently stroking her hair. Eventually Helena fell asleep and Rita headed to the servant’s quarters for her sleep.

That morning, Claire woke up to screaming and police sirens. She ran to her parents’ room, ducking under the caution tape and running in. She found her mother on the floor, stabbed to death and beside her was Claire’s doll, covered in blood and beside her was a strange new doll that looked suspiciously like William… and at that moment, Claire swore she saw a thin black haired boy drenched in blood floating above the scene, laughing wickedly.
‘Sing willow, willow, willow…I called my love false lover and what said he then? Sing willow, willow, willow…If I court more women you’ll couch with more men…”