The Perfect Doll Maker

Creak.

Dorothy listened to Mr. Hasson come into the backroom of the shop after another order was placed. His hand stroked gently through her straight, wheat blonde hair in the fond manner of an owner praising his obedient pet.

"The Andersons finally broke down and promised little Mary another one of your dolls," Mr. Hasson said.

Dorothy didn't respond. She was only twelve years old, but Dorothy was already a much-lauded doll maker in their prosperous town. Everyone said so. Her dolls were the most treasured possessions of the local rich children, who didn't dare to make fun of her as they normally would have. All of the lesser fortunate children didn’t ever even get the pleasure of viewing her dolls from up close, since Mr. Hasson wouldn't let someone into the shop unless they were from a distinguished family.

Little Mary was eight years old, and she was the spoiled daughter of the mayor and his wife. She never even came to Mr. Hasson's shop herself when she desired a new doll. No, Mary's dolls were specially ordered to fit her exact whims, and then delivered to her when they were finished. Dorothy hated knowing that Mary’s parents bought her so many dolls only because they were expensive, and not because the girl really loved or needed them.

Creak.

There was a shuffling, and then Dorothy heard the other side of the bench creak as Mr. Hasson sat down beside her. "Isn't that nice, girl? That little Mary's parents are so caring?" he asked. "They're nothing like yours were, leaving you wallowing in your own filth and shit until I picked you up."

The words were cruel, but they were spoken softly. Dorothy had long-since grown used to similar barbs. Her ears were tuned only to the soft timber of Mr. Hasson's voice, and she felt only the soothing strokes of his rough hand through her hair.

When she was younger, Dorothy used to wonder if Mr. Hasson was lying to her about her parents. That was back when she had first met the man, when she was just learning the art of making dolls and hadn't been very good at it yet.

Dorothy knew better now. She knew that Mr. Hasson never lied about anything, because he'd told her that one day she would become a great doll maker, and that had come true. No, Mr. Hasson always spoke the truth.

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Want to find out what happens next? Check out the full and edited short story here on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07D6GHZS7.