The dollmaker was in her workshop. She was inspecting the beautiful dollhouse she found at an estate auction two months before. The story was, a gentleman started building it when his three daughters were very young. Due to unfortunate circumstances, he didn’t complete it until 40 years later. Beatrice thought it looked pristine. Every detail was finished to perfection. The tiny furniture, the dolls, and their clothing were so carefully and lovingly finished. Few appreciated such workmanship more than Beatrice. There was even a tiny carved dog.
Beatrice was excited about the day ahead. The children would soon be there to begin their lessons in doll making. Beatrice had asked each of the children to bring the doll that she had made to look like them. She had been the evil dollmaker then… full of hatred.
It’s almost time, she thought. She walked over to the cabinet and pulled out her dark, hooded cloak. She knew when she put it on, she would become the evil dollmaker. She walked over to the potbelly stove…yes, it was burning nicely. She could direct each child to take their doll and throw it in the fire. The dolls served no purpose now, did they?
Beatrice could hear the children knocking on the door. As she walked to the door, she stopped and unfolded the cloak. She walked passed the stove and opened the door to the fire…she then folded the cloak up again, threw it in the fire, watched it burn a minute, and shut the door.
“Oh my,” she said as she welcomed the children, “Just look at this beautiful doll house. Now…bring your dolls over here and let’s play.”