Doll on the shelf

⏱ ~4 min reading

The Adeline doll had been on the top shelf in Bohdan's room since the day the boy was born. Her great-grandmother had given it to her—and her great-grandmother had given it to her. The doll was porcelain, with rosy cheeks, and wore a blue dress with a white collar. On her head were two chestnut curls tied with a red ribbon. Her eyes were large, blue, with long eyelashes.

Until he was seven, Bohdan hardly noticed her. The doll stood on its own. But when he turned seven, it started.

The first time he noticed it was by accident. He was lying in bed, reading a book about pirates. He looked up—and just in time to see Adeline's eyelashes—clip!—go down and go up.

Bogdan remained motionless. The doll looked as calmly as ever. Maybe it was a dream? Maybe a shadow of a cloud flashed through the window?

The next day it happened again. Bohdan was drawing an airplane. He raised his head - the doll seemed to blink. He blinked at himself too. The doll stood there, as always, smiling with its tiny porcelain mouth.

On the third day he started to get scared. After all, everyone knows that if a doll blinks, it's suspicious. In books, it always ends in something scary.

Bogdan told his older brother Vlad. Vlad was in fifth grade and was very logical.

"The doll can't blink," he said firmly. "Its eyes are made of glass. They're glued on. Stop fantasizing.".

But Bohdan wasn't fantasizing. He knew what he saw.

That evening he decided to do a test. He sat on the bed, crossed his legs, and stared at Adeline. He just stared. He didn't blink, he didn't look away.

A minute. Two. Five. Ten.

Adelina didn't move. Her blue eyes looked straight at him, calm, friendly. Her eyelashes never even fluttered.

Bogdan began to get tired. His eyes watered. He had to blink — and he did.

And in that second, in the tiny gap between the «eye closed» and the «eye opened,» the doll did something. He didn’t see what—but he felt it. It was as if, while he wasn’t looking, something had changed subtly in the room: the air had become a little warmer, the lampshade had swayed ever so slightly, and Adeline’s left curl was now lying not quite as it had a moment ago.

Bogdan jumped out of bed and ran to his grandmother. Grandma was knitting a sock in a chair.

"Grandma! Adeline is alive!"

The grandmother put down her sock and took her granddaughter's hand.

"Sit down, kid. And listen.".

She led him back into the room. She sat down next to him on the rug. Adeline looked down at them, calm as a lake.

“Do you know why dolls make their eyes glassy?” asked the grandmother.

— To be beautiful?

— Not only that. When the masters made the old dolls, they knew one secret. A doll is a small creature that lives in its own way. It doesn't eat, it doesn't drink, it doesn't run. But it dreams. Inside it is a quiet, soft soul.

- How are we doing?

— A little different. You see, a person can dream, even when they are being looked at. But a doll can't. Its soul is very, very shy. As long as someone is looking at it, the doll just stands still and smiles. And when everyone turns away — only then does it begin to dream. It closes its eyes, sees dreams, walks in its tiny thoughts.

"And I saw her blink!"

"That's because you caught that tiny, tiny moment when you blinked and she just happened to doze off for a second. That's how it happened.".

Bogdan looked at Adelina. Now she didn't seem scary to him, but a little sad.

— Grandma, is it hard for her when I'm constantly watching?

"It's not hard. She just has less time to dream. So when you go to bed and turn off the light, you give her a whole night of dreams. That's the best gift for a doll.".

Bogdan thought for a moment. Then he stood up, adjusted the ribbon in Adelina's hair (her fingers were cool and smooth), and said:

"Adelina, I won't check on you anymore. Dream as much as you want. I'll even turn away sometimes during the day so you have enough time.".

It seemed to him—or maybe it didn't seem so—that the porcelain mouth smiled wider than usual.

That night, Bogdan turned off the light and closed his eyes. He lay there thinking: right now, in the dark, while no one was looking, Adelina, somewhere on the shelf, must be seeing him walking barefoot through a meadow with daisies. Or drinking tea from tiny cups. Or simply listening to the wind singing in his curls.

And this thought made Bohdan feel so warm and cozy that he drifted off to sleep himself. And next to him, on the top shelf, a little porcelain Adeline was dreaming quietly - finally at peace, finally to her heart's content.