The Dollies Are Cross

Ahfl_icon Author: THX 0477 Dr. Tim's Neurotic Rules of Ficly Life [Disclaimer: This is not intended to be binding nor in any way an expectation of general members of Ficly, league members, family members or wearers of Member's Only jackets] ... Read Bio

A string of coarse language eminated from the nursery with such force as would have made any sailor cross himself and possibly utter a small prayer. Being more accustomed to it the maid staff rolled their eyes and waited for the nursemaid to attend to the situation.

After two rounds through on the rosary, Kathryn entered the child’s playroom to be greeted by the dark eyes and furrowed brow of her charge, the youngest Waithbridge, heiress to the largest estate in Cambourne.

“Where’s Boris?” the child demanded.

“Gone on holiday, my dear.”

“Only Boris cleans the dollies’ house properly.”

“I’ll get Maryanne…”

“Best you don’t,” the girl menaced, a growl that seemed to defy her tender age of ten.

Hands raised apologetically, the nursemaid offered, “Shall I…”

“No.” The girl paused, then asked, “Is that wretched Heather around?”

“She only comes by to visit Boris. You know that.”

“Phooey. Still, best to leave the dollies’ house until Boris returns. They do get ever so cross without their nicotine.”

View this story's details


Oh no! This story doesn't have a prequel. Want to fill in the blanks and write one?


Oh no! This story doesn't have a sequel. Want to fill in the blanks and write one?

Comments (1 so far!)

  1. Avatar JonB

    What unholy influence has taken possession of this child? Surely the chain-smoking dollies are merely figments of her imagination…

    Clever and imaginative take on the challenge brief, with a slightly unsettling Twilight Zone feel to it, tempered by a characteristically comic touch.