Can't Beat the House

Lucía liked the Marcel-Wilsons. They treated her like family. Mostly. Lily and Max were good kids.

The children had an enormous playroom with all manner of toys and games. The coolest thing, in her opinion was the House. She couldn't understand why the kids didn't play with it more.

"Mummy says it's been in the family a very long time," Lily explained, squatting down and picking up a figurine from the floor. She gazed at it for a long moment, and seated it at the little kitchen table. She spent another moment arranging miniscule plates in front of it, then stood up with a bright smile. "So we must take really good care of it."

That's all they ever did. The adults did the same. Lucía felt sure if she were a small girl, she'd have spent hours playing with the detailed miniatures.

Lucía picked scooped up the Legos, and stuffed scattered plushies in designated basket. Floor clear, she hauled the vacuum cleaner in. Then her eyes fell on the dolls scattered in front of the House. Oh! How could I miss those?

She stooped to shove them in the House, so didn't get caught in the vacuum cleaner. The second she touched them, she was transported back to being a little girl. How lucky she was! To have the chance to play with such a lovely house! It had everything! The little people were darling. The furniture, the hand-stitched clothes, the tiny spoons...

And look! It was quite similar to the house they were all living in! Some of the dolls even looked like the Marcel-Williamses.

Footsteps interrupted her reverie. How long have I been playing with the dollhouse?! God, how unprofessional. I'll get fired!

Her instinct was to jump to her feet, carry on cleaning the playroom, make excuses about the vacuum being clogged... but she couldn't move. She lay, stiff and unmoving, on the playroom rug. Tried to scream, but her mouth wouldn't open.

Lily's feet moved closer. Even squatting, the child towered over her. She lifted Lucía with gentle fingers. Was that pity in her eyes?

The last thing Lucía saw was the front of the House closing, trapping her inside forever.

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Author's Note:

Word count: 366

(NB. This excludes the title, subtitle, and authors note.)

Submitted on Thursday 29th August at 16:26

Edited for formatting and to fix links.

A Year of Stories: I'm writing (and submitting, here) a story every day this year. This one continues my 242 day streak since 1st January.

Please consider lending your support to the other creators on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They're putting out excellent content every day!

Rachel Deeming

Gerard DiLeo

The story behind the story: I wanted to do one of those Hand That Rocks the Cradle type stories... but this is what my stupid brain came up with.

Thank you

Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed!

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A recent Runner Up placement for one of my Wanky Poems:

Another recent challenge entry:

My look back at July:

My reflections on the recent nonet challenge:

My current Dollar Challenge:

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Thank you again!