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re: My New Doll

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Exactly, and when all else fails;  they threaten you. "Don't you ever tell anyone what happens here!"  All you can do, is pretend to go along to save yourself. Promise to remember and promise  to keep all the pieces of the puzzle, and to never forget and promise that someday to try and put it all together. It seems parents all learn early on,  how to brain wash their children; to tell them what happened ,didn't really happen and so it goes, with all adults that have power or control over children, not just parents.  Secrets, lies and betrayal.  Betrayed by the ones, who are supposed to love and protect us.  They end up being the ones, we learn to protect ourselves from, and in the end we learn to trust no-one, not even ourselves.  For we have been told that our memories are not real, we made it up, we mis-understood, we have wild imaginations.  Never mind our scars, or our physical evidence, we were just kids and just fosters,  even less than just kids.  To be 60 years old and write down these memories and say this is my story and you can't take it away, you can't edit it,  you can't beat it out of me, you can call me a liar, but you can't stop me, and you can't hurt me anymore.  That's liberating! Still I am cautious, I have changed the names to protect myself from evil,  I think that most of the people I have in my past are dead, and believe me, I wouldn't be saying any of it , if I thought they were a threat.  They may still be alive, but given that I'm 60, I figure they would have to be 85-90 at least. I doubt they are computer literate, so I feel safe. Or perhaps I feel it is time, all of these memories rising up from the past.  My therapist says, as we skim the muck from the top of the pool, the stuff that's been laying at the bottom all these years begins to rise to the top, and now needs tending to. It's time has come........the memories are rising up, to be looked at again, to be tended to, they have been buried for far too long.


 

Such good reasons I have always been open and honest with my daughter about my childhood and hers. Yet, she was hurt by her natural father. So many lies and such pain I never wanted her to know. Writing it down has helped me release the anger and yes, forgive those ho hurt me but how to forgive him who hurt her.

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I'm new here, maybe I shouldn't comment so early, but hey--I gotta start sometime!  You caught me from the beginning.  The imagery painted a picture in my head, and then you animated it, started describing motion forward, and we were off!  High fever or no...it is the embellishment of the memories that makes the story.  Good Job.


Bruce the Mystery Man

Welcome new guy, I checked out some of your writing, good stuff, interesting, also grabs you.  Welcome!! Thank you for your comments.  It's never too early, jump in and join us!! Who is that adorable 4yr old, I love her, she's my kinda girl, she's going to kick the monster's ****!!!  I love it.  Her mother sound's like she is so trying not to laugh!!  Great Kid!!   Super Kid - Monster Slayer of the Universe!!  Loved It!!  She Rocks!!

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Amen! You have to get it all out, one way or another. My brothers and I spent a lot of time searching for "proof", but too many years had passed and too many adults were involved in the coverups. We find bits and pieces and have to make up explanations and try to find the simplest hypothesis to cover what happened.  Some stuff was so weird, I thought it must have been nightmares, but my therapist had seen an undercover report of just what I described, so that was some validation.


I'd guess your doll held either gemstones or microfilm, although drugs are also a possibility (but seem less likely given the volume).

Betsy, You sound so much like me, my co-workers call me affectionately Miss CSI and when they want info and the 411 on how to investigate anything from fraud to how to get help filing a RTO, I'm the one they come to.  Keep in touch! Your friend, Aubergine


 


 

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Exactly, and when all else fails;  they threaten you. "Don't you ever tell anyone what happens here!"  All you can do, is pretend to go along to save yourself. Promise to remember and promise  to keep all the pieces of the puzzle, and to never forget and promise that someday to try and put it all together. It seems parents all learn early on,  how to brain wash their children; to tell them what happened ,didn't really happen and so it goes, with all adults that have power or control over children, not just parents.  Secrets, lies and betrayal.  Betrayed by the ones, who are supposed to love and protect us.  They end up being the ones, we learn to protect ourselves from, and in the end we learn to trust no-one, not even ourselves.  For we have been told that our memories are not real, we made it up, we mis-understood, we have wild imaginations.  Never mind our scars, or our physical evidence, we were just kids and just fosters,  even less than just kids.  To be 60 years old and write down these memories and say this is my story and you can't take it away, you can't edit it,  you can't beat it out of me, you can call me a liar, but you can't stop me, and you can't hurt me anymore.  That's liberating! Still I am cautious, I have changed the names to protect myself from evil,  I think that most of the people I have in my past are dead, and believe me, I wouldn't be saying any of it , if I thought they were a threat.  They may still be alive, but given that I'm 60, I figure they would have to be 85-90 at least. I doubt they are computer literate, so I feel safe. Or perhaps I feel it is time, all of these memories rising up from the past.  My therapist says, as we skim the muck from the top of the pool, the stuff that's been laying at the bottom all these years begins to rise to the top, and now needs tending to. It's time has come........the memories are rising up, to be looked at again, to be tended to, they have been buried for far too long.


 

Amen! You have to get it all out, one way or another. My brothers and I spent a lot of time searching for "proof", but too many years had passed and too many adults were involved in the coverups. We find bits and pieces and have to make up explanations and try to find the simplest hypothesis to cover what happened.  Some stuff was so weird, I thought it must have been nightmares, but my therapist had seen an undercover report of just what I described, so that was some validation.


I'd guess your doll held either gemstones or microfilm, although drugs are also a possibility (but seem less likely given the volume).

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Wow, what engrossing memories! I love your writing. Adults always underestimate the intelligence of children. They think we don't see, that we don't know or cant' understand. They are wrong. Just like your penguins. The cover stories they make up are so stupid, because they think we are easy to fool. Sometimes they dont' even bother to be sure they all tell the same story.


Like when I told my first grade teacher that mom had chased daddy around the house with a butcher knife. They each sat me down to explain what "really" happened. Dad said that mom was washing dishes and happened to have the knife in her hand when he came up behind her and tickled her, and she turned around and shook it at him in play. That might have satisfied me, until mom sat me down and said that dad was chasing a mouse around the room, behind the furniture and she was following, waiting to "cut off it's tail with a carving knife".


Or the time when one of my friends told me she used to have an older brother, but he got struck by lightning while running to school in the rain and fell dead on the sidewalk. I responded by telling her that I had a baby sister that died. Mom told me I was a liar, that I never had a baby sister. But dad sat me down and told me we don't tell "family secrets" outside the home.


Cognitive dissonance anyone?

Exactly, and when all else fails;  they threaten you. "Don't you ever tell anyone what happens here!"  All you can do, is pretend to go along to save yourself. Promise to remember and promise  to keep all the pieces of the puzzle, and to never forget and promise that someday to try and put it all together. It seems parents all learn early on,  how to brain wash their children; to tell them what happened ,didn't really happen and so it goes, with all adults that have power or control over children, not just parents.  Secrets, lies and betrayal.  Betrayed by the ones, who are supposed to love and protect us.  They end up being the ones, we learn to protect ourselves from, and in the end we learn to trust no-one, not even ourselves.  For we have been told that our memories are not real, we made it up, we mis-understood, we have wild imaginations.  Never mind our scars, or our physical evidence, we were just kids and just fosters,  even less than just kids.  To be 60 years old and write down these memories and say this is my story and you can't take it away, you can't edit it,  you can't beat it out of me, you can call me a liar, but you can't stop me, and you can't hurt me anymore.  That's liberating! Still I am cautious, I have changed the names to protect myself from evil,  I think that most of the people I have in my past are dead, and believe me, I wouldn't be saying any of it , if I thought they were a threat.  They may still be alive, but given that I'm 60, I figure they would have to be 85-90 at least. I doubt they are computer literate, so I feel safe. Or perhaps I feel it is time, all of these memories rising up from the past.  My therapist says, as we skim the muck from the top of the pool, the stuff that's been laying at the bottom all these years begins to rise to the top, and now needs tending to. It's time has come........the memories are rising up, to be looked at again, to be tended to, they have been buried for far too long.


 

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My first night back at the orphanage, I woke up in the middle of the a bad dream, the head peguine of evil was sitting on the foot of my bed. I sat up in bed quickly, pulling up my knees and jumping to my feet making my way to the corner.  I always had my bed in the corner of the room, so I could face the door, guess I watched too many cowboy movies!


The evil one smiled, the light from outside my little window streaked down across her face and from where I stood on my bed she looked like a real monster.  She patted the bed and said "Now, now come back down here, you hell cat! "


Then she laughed at me and her teeth when she smiled, just made her  monster face look even more ugly. I wondered if she even, knew just how ugly and disgusting she was!  Gross!  But now I was curious, what did she want, in the middle of the night?  She was evil, I knew, but was she a sicko? No, I wasn't coming down from my corner, I tensed my muscles, ready to make a mad dash for the door. In my mind, I planned my escape.  I was a strang child, I became an even stranger adult, but I digress.


She laughed again, she said, "You are such a strange child", (she's reading my mind!, oh no, I must block my thoughts! Okay, so I read too much sci-fi) "Come on I just want to talk to you, I'm not going to hurt you!" Yeah, sure. That's the first thing I learned about the evil penguins, when they say they just want to talk to you and they aren't going to hurt you, you can be sure that that's the first thing they're going to do to you!  One of my favorite movie lines, "Yeah lady, I know you're lying, cause your lips are movin' and by the way, you ain't no lady!" I can't remember the movie, the evil one is still talking, I better pay attention.....


"It's too bad, you got sick when you were with the Del Monico's.  Having the high fever.....103 degrees they said...had to be in bed all that time... delirious...the doctor...said....all these...strange  ( what was this evil monster talking about?)....stories you made up...........do you remember?"


She is staring at me, smiling that evil smile, with those yellow crooked teeth.  I wonder if ever brushed her teeth as a child, is that why they are so yellow?  Bad oral hygiene, evil penguine, did no one ever teach you? Her eyes are black and I can't look at her eyes, they are like dark holes, like  black coal eyes on snow men. Perhaps I should stop gaping at her and repond, I decide to shake my head back and forth.


"No? Well, if you were to make up any wild stories (wild stories? me? she must have me mixed up with some other brat!) and try to tell any of your tall tales to anyone, let me just say, that you would not be believed.  Do I make myself, clear? You had a very high fever, and you were in bed and you were very sick, that's all that happened, anything else that you think happened, was just in your feverish mind.  Oh, by the way, you left your Christmas present at the Del Monico's, a doll I believe? Yes? Well, they sent it to you and it should arrive here in a week or so, if you are a good girl and don't tell any fantastic tales, it will be returned to you.  Do you understand?"


I nodded in agreement. She stood up and walked to the door, then turned back to me. She went on to say that since I had been so ill, she thought it best that  I remain in my room for the next week or so and rest.  My  meals would be brought to my room, one of the nuns would come and escort me to the bathroom, when necessary,  I needed  only to push the buzzer.  Books and study assignments would be brought to my room, along with paper and pencils. In others words, I wasn't going anywhere, and no one was coming to see me, except the penguines.


I am only a kid, but I don't remember a high fever, but hey, if the evil ones say I was sick and they say I imagined taking a plane trip to Italy and a boat trip and my swedish nanny Inga, well okay.  It does sound like a wild story a kid would make up, a kid with a high fever.  But it bugs me. So I remember it all, I make a special mission to remember every detail names, people,  places, towns, faces, conversations every detail and someday, I tell myself, when I 'm older, I'm going to check this out.


Plus, I knew the truth, after all being "just a kid" I did "just a kid stuff" I picked up some coins that people had dropped. They were on the streets in Italy and Sicily and I put them in my shoes.  I was very careful to keep them secret and no one knew I had them.  Plus I had other little things I brought back from Sicily and Italy, little things I wanted to give to my Grandmother.  Little spoons, that were stamped on the back, one from each house, they were really small, easy to hide! I guess, in reality I stole them, but I didn't quite see it that way in my child's mind.  But now they took on a special importance and they were already hidden, because I knew if they were found I would be beaten.  But now, I thought if they were found, I may be killed! This seemed pretty serious.  I must never tell, and my treasures must never be found.


So much for me making contact with the outside world.  Grandmother and Los Angeles would have to wait.  Surviving day to day, reading books to escape these walls and waiting for my new doll to arrive, that's what I live for in this moment. Maybe when my doll arrives, I can do what Inga did, I can sew my treasures inside my doll! 


Which makes me wonder, what did Inga sew inside my doll in the first place? I wonder if I'll ever know.  I wonder what happened to Inga....


Oh memories.............


 

Wow, what engrossing memories! I love your writing. Adults always underestimate the intelligence of children. They think we don't see, that we don't know or cant' understand. They are wrong. Just like your penguins. The cover stories they make up are so stupid, because they think we are easy to fool. Sometimes they dont' even bother to be sure they all tell the same story.


Like when I told my first grade teacher that mom had chased daddy around the house with a butcher knife. They each sat me down to explain what "really" happened. Dad said that mom was washing dishes and happened to have the knife in her hand when he came up behind her and tickled her, and she turned around and shook it at him in play. That might have satisfied me, until mom sat me down and said that dad was chasing a mouse around the room, behind the furniture and she was following, waiting to "cut off it's tail with a carving knife".


Or the time when one of my friends told me she used to have an older brother, but he got struck by lightning while running to school in the rain and fell dead on the sidewalk. I responded by telling her that I had a baby sister that died. Mom told me I was a liar, that I never had a baby sister. But dad sat me down and told me we don't tell "family secrets" outside the home.


Cognitive dissonance anyone?

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My first night back at the orphanage, I woke up in the middle of the a bad dream, the head peguine of evil was sitting on the foot of my bed. I sat up in bed quickly, pulling up my knees and jumping to my feet making my way to the corner.  I always had my bed in the corner of the room, so I could face the door, guess I watched too many cowboy movies!


The evil one smiled, the light from outside my little window streaked down across her face and from where I stood on my bed she looked like a real monster.  She patted the bed and said "Now, now come back down here, you hell cat! "


Then she laughed at me and her teeth when she smiled, just made her  monster face look even more ugly. I wondered if she even, knew just how ugly and disgusting she was!  Gross!  But now I was curious, what did she want, in the middle of the night?  She was evil, I knew, but was she a sicko? No, I wasn't coming down from my corner, I tensed my muscles, ready to make a mad dash for the door. In my mind, I planned my escape.  I was a strang child, I became an even stranger adult, but I digress.


She laughed again, she said, "You are such a strange child", (she's reading my mind!, oh no, I must block my thoughts! Okay, so I read too much sci-fi) "Come on I just want to talk to you, I'm not going to hurt you!" Yeah, sure. That's the first thing I learned about the evil penguins, when they say they just want to talk to you and they aren't going to hurt you, you can be sure that that's the first thing they're going to do to you!  One of my favorite movie lines, "Yeah lady, I know you're lying, cause your lips are movin' and by the way, you ain't no lady!" I can't remember the movie, the evil one is still talking, I better pay attention.....


"It's too bad, you got sick when you were with the Del Monico's.  Having the high fever.....103 degrees they said...had to be in bed all that time... delirious...the doctor...said....all these...strange  ( what was this evil monster talking about?)....stories you made up...........do you remember?"


She is staring at me, smiling that evil smile, with those yellow crooked teeth.  I wonder if ever brushed her teeth as a child, is that why they are so yellow?  Bad oral hygiene, evil penguine, did no one ever teach you? Her eyes are black and I can't look at her eyes, they are like dark holes, like  black coal eyes on snow men. Perhaps I should stop gaping at her and repond, I decide to shake my head back and forth.


"No? Well, if you were to make up any wild stories (wild stories? me? she must have me mixed up with some other brat!) and try to tell any of your tall tales to anyone, let me just say, that you would not be believed.  Do I make myself, clear? You had a very high fever, and you were in bed and you were very sick, that's all that happened, anything else that you think happened, was just in your feverish mind.  Oh, by the way, you left your Christmas present at the Del Monico's, a doll I believe? Yes? Well, they sent it to you and it should arrive here in a week or so, if you are a good girl and don't tell any fantastic tales, it will be returned to you.  Do you understand?"


I nodded in agreement. She stood up and walked to the door, then turned back to me. She went on to say that since I had been so ill, she thought it best that  I remain in my room for the next week or so and rest.  My  meals would be brought to my room, one of the nuns would come and escort me to the bathroom, when necessary,  I needed  only to push the buzzer.  Books and study assignments would be brought to my room, along with paper and pencils. In others words, I wasn't going anywhere, and no one was coming to see me, except the penguines.


I am only a kid, but I don't remember a high fever, but hey, if the evil ones say I was sick and they say I imagined taking a plane trip to Italy and a boat trip and my swedish nanny Inga, well okay.  It does sound like a wild story a kid would make up, a kid with a high fever.  But it bugs me. So I remember it all, I make a special mission to remember every detail names, people,  places, towns, faces, conversations every detail and someday, I tell myself, when I 'm older, I'm going to check this out.


Plus, I knew the truth, after all being "just a kid" I did "just a kid stuff" I picked up some coins that people had dropped. They were on the streets in Italy and Sicily and I put them in my shoes.  I was very careful to keep them secret and no one knew I had them.  Plus I had other little things I brought back from Sicily and Italy, little things I wanted to give to my Grandmother.  Little spoons, that were stamped on the back, one from each house, they were really small, easy to hide! I guess, in reality I stole them, but I didn't quite see it that way in my child's mind.  But now they took on a special importance and they were already hidden, because I knew if they were found I would be beaten.  But now, I thought if they were found, I may be killed! This seemed pretty serious.  I must never tell, and my treasures must never be found.


So much for me making contact with the outside world.  Grandmother and Los Angeles would have to wait.  Surviving day to day, reading books to escape these walls and waiting for my new doll to arrive, that's what I live for in this moment. Maybe when my doll arrives, I can do what Inga did, I can sew my treasures inside my doll! 


Which makes me wonder, what did Inga sew inside my doll in the first place? I wonder if I'll ever know.  I wonder what happened to Inga....


Oh memories.............


 

Dear Aubergine9:


Your memories are fascinating, they have all the features of a mistery novel; the sadness of a troubled childhood, and your strong personality ready to face the unhappy events in your life make them very interesting.  Thank you for sharing them with us.


Greetings


Sara

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My first night back at the orphanage, I woke up in the middle of the a bad dream, the head peguine of evil was sitting on the foot of my bed. I sat up in bed quickly, pulling up my knees and jumping to my feet making my way to the corner.  I always had my bed in the corner of the room, so I could face the door, guess I watched too many cowboy movies!


The evil one smiled, the light from outside my little window streaked down across her face and from where I stood on my bed she looked like a real monster.  She patted the bed and said "Now, now come back down here, you hell cat! "


Then she laughed at me and her teeth when she smiled, just made her  monster face look even more ugly. I wondered if she even, knew just how ugly and disgusting she was!  Gross!  But now I was curious, what did she want, in the middle of the night?  She was evil, I knew, but was she a sicko? No, I wasn't coming down from my corner, I tensed my muscles, ready to make a mad dash for the door. In my mind, I planned my escape.  I was a strang child, I became an even stranger adult, but I digress.


She laughed again, she said, "You are such a strange child", (she's reading my mind!, oh no, I must block my thoughts! Okay, so I read too much sci-fi) "Come on I just want to talk to you, I'm not going to hurt you!" Yeah, sure. That's the first thing I learned about the evil penguins, when they say they just want to talk to you and they aren't going to hurt you, you can be sure that that's the first thing they're going to do to you!  One of my favorite movie lines, "Yeah lady, I know you're lying, cause your lips are movin' and by the way, you ain't no lady!" I can't remember the movie, the evil one is still talking, I better pay attention.....


"It's too bad, you got sick when you were with the Del Monico's.  Having the high fever.....103 degrees they said...had to be in bed all that time... delirious...the doctor...said....all these...strange  ( what was this evil monster talking about?)....stories you made up...........do you remember?"


She is staring at me, smiling that evil smile, with those yellow crooked teeth.  I wonder if ever brushed her teeth as a child, is that why they are so yellow?  Bad oral hygiene, evil penguine, did no one ever teach you? Her eyes are black and I can't look at her eyes, they are like dark holes, like  black coal eyes on snow men. Perhaps I should stop gaping at her and repond, I decide to shake my head back and forth.


"No? Well, if you were to make up any wild stories (wild stories? me? she must have me mixed up with some other brat!) and try to tell any of your tall tales to anyone, let me just say, that you would not be believed.  Do I make myself, clear? You had a very high fever, and you were in bed and you were very sick, that's all that happened, anything else that you think happened, was just in your feverish mind.  Oh, by the way, you left your Christmas present at the Del Monico's, a doll I believe? Yes? Well, they sent it to you and it should arrive here in a week or so, if you are a good girl and don't tell any fantastic tales, it will be returned to you.  Do you understand?"


I nodded in agreement. She stood up and walked to the door, then turned back to me. She went on to say that since I had been so ill, she thought it best that  I remain in my room for the next week or so and rest.  My  meals would be brought to my room, one of the nuns would come and escort me to the bathroom, when necessary,  I needed  only to push the buzzer.  Books and study assignments would be brought to my room, along with paper and pencils. In others words, I wasn't going anywhere, and no one was coming to see me, except the penguines.


I am only a kid, but I don't remember a high fever, but hey, if the evil ones say I was sick and they say I imagined taking a plane trip to Italy and a boat trip and my swedish nanny Inga, well okay.  It does sound like a wild story a kid would make up, a kid with a high fever.  But it bugs me. So I remember it all, I make a special mission to remember every detail names, people,  places, towns, faces, conversations every detail and someday, I tell myself, when I 'm older, I'm going to check this out.


Plus, I knew the truth, after all being "just a kid" I did "just a kid stuff" I picked up some coins that people had dropped. They were on the streets in Italy and Sicily and I put them in my shoes.  I was very careful to keep them secret and no one knew I had them.  Plus I had other little things I brought back from Sicily and Italy, little things I wanted to give to my Grandmother.  Little spoons, that were stamped on the back, one from each house, they were really small, easy to hide! I guess, in reality I stole them, but I didn't quite see it that way in my child's mind.  But now they took on a special importance and they were already hidden, because I knew if they were found I would be beaten.  But now, I thought if they were found, I may be killed! This seemed pretty serious.  I must never tell, and my treasures must never be found.


So much for me making contact with the outside world.  Grandmother and Los Angeles would have to wait.  Surviving day to day, reading books to escape these walls and waiting for my new doll to arrive, that's what I live for in this moment. Maybe when my doll arrives, I can do what Inga did, I can sew my treasures inside my doll! 


Which makes me wonder, what did Inga sew inside my doll in the first place? I wonder if I'll ever know.  I wonder what happened to Inga....


Oh memories.............


 

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My New Doll

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Message 8 of 9

My first night back at the orphanage, I woke up in the middle of the a bad dream, the head peguine of evil was sitting on the foot of my bed. I sat up in bed quickly, pulling up my knees and jumping to my feet making my way to the corner.  I always had my bed in the corner of the room, so I could face the door, guess I watched too many cowboy movies!


The evil one smiled, the light from outside my little window streaked down across her face and from where I stood on my bed she looked like a real monster.  She patted the bed and said "Now, now come back down here, you hell cat! "


Then she laughed at me and her teeth when she smiled, just made her  monster face look even more ugly. I wondered if she even, knew just how ugly and disgusting she was!  Gross!  But now I was curious, what did she want, in the middle of the night?  She was evil, I knew, but was she a sicko? No, I wasn't coming down from my corner, I tensed my muscles, ready to make a mad dash for the door. In my mind, I planned my escape.  I was a strang child, I became an even stranger adult, but I digress.


She laughed again, she said, "You are such a strange child", (she's reading my mind!, oh no, I must block my thoughts! Okay, so I read too much sci-fi) "Come on I just want to talk to you, I'm not going to hurt you!" Yeah, sure. That's the first thing I learned about the evil penguins, when they say they just want to talk to you and they aren't going to hurt you, you can be sure that that's the first thing they're going to do to you!  One of my favorite movie lines, "Yeah lady, I know you're lying, cause your lips are movin' and by the way, you ain't no lady!" I can't remember the movie, the evil one is still talking, I better pay attention.....


"It's too bad, you got sick when you were with the Del Monico's.  Having the high fever.....103 degrees they said...had to be in bed all that time... delirious...the doctor...said....all these...strange  ( what was this evil monster talking about?)....stories you made up...........do you remember?"


She is staring at me, smiling that evil smile, with those yellow crooked teeth.  I wonder if ever brushed her teeth as a child, is that why they are so yellow?  Bad oral hygiene, evil penguine, did no one ever teach you? Her eyes are black and I can't look at her eyes, they are like dark holes, like  black coal eyes on snow men. Perhaps I should stop gaping at her and repond, I decide to shake my head back and forth.


"No? Well, if you were to make up any wild stories (wild stories? me? she must have me mixed up with some other brat!) and try to tell any of your tall tales to anyone, let me just say, that you would not be believed.  Do I make myself, clear? You had a very high fever, and you were in bed and you were very sick, that's all that happened, anything else that you think happened, was just in your feverish mind.  Oh, by the way, you left your Christmas present at the Del Monico's, a doll I believe? Yes? Well, they sent it to you and it should arrive here in a week or so, if you are a good girl and don't tell any fantastic tales, it will be returned to you.  Do you understand?"


I nodded in agreement. She stood up and walked to the door, then turned back to me. She went on to say that since I had been so ill, she thought it best that  I remain in my room for the next week or so and rest.  My  meals would be brought to my room, one of the nuns would come and escort me to the bathroom, when necessary,  I needed  only to push the buzzer.  Books and study assignments would be brought to my room, along with paper and pencils. In others words, I wasn't going anywhere, and no one was coming to see me, except the penguines.


I am only a kid, but I don't remember a high fever, but hey, if the evil ones say I was sick and they say I imagined taking a plane trip to Italy and a boat trip and my swedish nanny Inga, well okay.  It does sound like a wild story a kid would make up, a kid with a high fever.  But it bugs me. So I remember it all, I make a special mission to remember every detail names, people,  places, towns, faces, conversations every detail and someday, I tell myself, when I 'm older, I'm going to check this out.


Plus, I knew the truth, after all being "just a kid" I did "just a kid stuff" I picked up some coins that people had dropped. They were on the streets in Italy and Sicily and I put them in my shoes.  I was very careful to keep them secret and no one knew I had them.  Plus I had other little things I brought back from Sicily and Italy, little things I wanted to give to my Grandmother.  Little spoons, that were stamped on the back, one from each house, they were really small, easy to hide! I guess, in reality I stole them, but I didn't quite see it that way in my child's mind.  But now they took on a special importance and they were already hidden, because I knew if they were found I would be beaten.  But now, I thought if they were found, I may be killed! This seemed pretty serious.  I must never tell, and my treasures must never be found.


So much for me making contact with the outside world.  Grandmother and Los Angeles would have to wait.  Surviving day to day, reading books to escape these walls and waiting for my new doll to arrive, that's what I live for in this moment. Maybe when my doll arrives, I can do what Inga did, I can sew my treasures inside my doll! 


Which makes me wonder, what did Inga sew inside my doll in the first place? I wonder if I'll ever know.  I wonder what happened to Inga....


Oh memories.............


 

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