This Piece shows the great detail of an object. Using memories and descriptive writing to compare such a small object to life itself.

1. Emily Ruterbusch
Pantaloons and Private Stares
The little girl zoomed into the room so fast that the door nearly flew right off
the hinges. Bedtime was never really the best part of the day for the little girl though
with a mom like hers there was never a dull moment. The little girl crawled her way
into the single bed and pulled the Disney princess covers up to her neck and waited
patiently for her mother to make her way to the bedroom with the pasty white
walls. The light in the middle of the room was bright with a yellow musty color but
somehow was able to bring the whole room to life. Her little sister came rushing into
the room and hopped into the single bed next to her and giggled the whole way
there. Her mom walked through the door with a gentle smile on her face and a sense
of intrigue in her eyes. The little girl’s mother sat down in the bed next to her and
pulled out their Harry Potter book that the three of us have been reading for weeks.
Just a chapter a night was all it took to get the imagination going and open the eyes
of young children to a world that they never knew existed. Yet moving through this
magical world, there was not two listeners but three.
When it was finally time for bed, kisses were handed out like there was
plenty to spare. Before the lights were turned off there was a flicker of eyes to the
dresser. A jewelry box made of oak with three little drawers and a small door to
hang necklaces. The bottom drawer played music that was unrecognizable to this
day. It was filled with plastic rings and other such contents that usually a little girl

2. would play with pretending that each item was a doorway into the girlish
imagination of princesses.
And there she stood with her white face and curly brown hair. This white
little porcelain doll wore a pink dress and a wide rimmed hat. Ruffles were at the
bottom of the dress and ruffles along the sleeves. The little porcelain doll wore old-
fashioned white pantaloons and fancy black dress shoes. The face of the doll was
like a piece of art. The pasted white face was seamless. The rosy pink cheeks gave
her a small essence of life though most of her days she spent sitting on a dresser.
The small lips created a slight curve that made her come alive; I could have sworn
that she was smiling at me. Tiny fake eyelashes that highlighted the very essence of
her still-life soul surrounded her dark brown eyes. These dark brown eyes would
trap anyone that passed by in her gaze, boring into their soul for the real truth.
This antique doll was so simple and unmoving that each time she walked
past it was like a horror movie waiting to happen. Each night when the lights go out,
the image of that porcelain doll haunts the darkness inside her room. The room has
a subtle echo from this doll’s stare that could make even the largest and fiercest
animal flinch at the very sight. It was the kind of stare that could clear a crowded
room in a matter of seconds. Once trapped in the doll’s gaze, everything seemed to
just disappear in the girl’s room.
That doll sat collecting dust and other such fuzzy things every single day and
night for many vicious years. The doll sat through door slams and book reads and
giggling children that refused to go to sleep. The doll sat through the good times as
well as the bad, staring. The little girl would have her private stares with this doll in

3. pantaloons and black dress shoes. These stares every night were terrifying and
comforting all at the same time. And yet in the midst of all of the emotion, the girl
manages to face another night of wandering thoughts.
There were always private stares from across the room that somehow
seemed more intentional than the average antique doll. It was like looking into a
mirror that had life played out like a movie. This doll that had perfectly curled hair
that seemed to tangle her in its web of insecurities. The very web of life itself could
tangle any one person and drag them to the deepest depths of adulthood. The truth
of creating a destiny with just a few guidelines can and will scare any human being
that ever attempts it. The little girl would swear that just before the light was turned
off to go to bed the doll would move just a little bit, like a wink or a nod. Just a small
amount that only the girl could see. She could see the truth that was staring at her
every time she looked at this porcelain-mirrored mannequin. This doll watched and
stared, every single moment that happened in front of its chocolate colored eyes and
fake eyelashes.
Observing the moments that meant the most. The little girl would cry herself
to sleep at night. Not giant sobs that could wake a sleeping cat but small droplets
that were meant only for the dolls glass eyes to see. Tears of unknown; not of
sadness or joy but tears that really showed who the little girl was at heart. Tears of
horror that showed the fear behind her eyes with the vicious fights between her
older sister and her parents that left her holding her little sister in a corner telling
her everything was going to be alright. Tears of life itself. And yet the doll knew.

4. And when the darkness would blanket the world and God’s thousands of
shiny night lights would shine down upon each cozy home, there seemed to be a
peace that protected everyone from the monsters underneath the bed. The secret
fears that no one likes to talk about. Truths. Insecurities. Life itself.
That painted face of the porcelain doll and the little girl would have private
stares that would be worth a million words. It was like the ripples of each ruffle of
her dress seemed to tell a story of what a young woman should be. Every day that
doll would stare at the little girl pressuring her to be exactly like that creature on the
dresser; proper and poised. This doll that sat like a trinket of the past on a dresser
meant for more than just show. This doll with pantaloons and black dress shoes
understood what was really happening to the little girl. The changes that happen
over time that can make person tremble. The constant taking on of responsibilities
as a growing child keeps the mind from receiving the necessary REM sleep patterns.
The doll understood that the worries the little girl would have wasn’t something she
should burden at such a young age. The doll’s chocolate eye knew. Burdening herself
with the world; all that the little girl needed was a listener. The little girl would
spend her days sending her messages to the mirrored mannequin like it was a
message in a bottle hoping for someone to someday read them.
Over the years the little girl grew older and older, and soon it became time
for the trinket doll with pantaloons and black dress shoes to be taken from the dusty
dresser. And as the little girl grew into a young woman, she realized that the
porcelain doll that had sat unmoving on her dresser wasn’t there as a reminder of
her fears that would keep her up at night or a reminder to be a pasted young lady.

5. The glass eyes and painted cheeks of the antique doll was a door to the future letting
the little girl know to be true to herself, fears and all, because that I what makes US
human. And that’s the best part.