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The Dollhouse



The Dollhouse

by Ruth Z. Deming

Bubby, said my granddaughter Grace Catherine,
Hide your eyes.
How 'bout if I turn around,
little darling, I promise
not to look.

Her huge black eyes
smiled - did she look
anything like me? -
more like her mom

I stood by her little
brother's train station
silent, now that he'd
gone to bed

Grace Catherine began
chattering loudly. Then
her voice grew dim.

More tea Mr Rabbit?
she asked.
I haven't much time,
he said, and I heard
the ticking of a
pocket watch.

Half a cup, he said,
with honey this time.
The sound of pouring
liquid echoed through
the room.

De-licious, he said
with high-pitched
squeals.
Shhhh! she said,
you'll wake my
little brother.

The patter of little
feet scurried across
the floor.

You can look now,
Bubby, said Grace
Catherine, licking
the honey off her thumb.


* * *


Ruth Z. Deming, a psychotherapist and mental health advocate, has had her poetry published in lit mags including Mad Swirl, River Poets, and Blue Lyra Review. She runs New Directions Support Group for people with depression, bipolar disorder and their loved ones. She lives in Willow Grove, a suburb of Philadelphia.

What do you think is the most important aspect of a fantasy story? 
When writing fantasy, the story should be filled with numerous details easy to visualize.

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