The Figurine

Olivia lifted the ceramic figurine—a birthday present from her parents—from its carton.

“Doesn’t it look just like you?” Her mother moved closer, smiling. “We were sure you’d love her.”

Love her? Granted, the figurine had the same chestnut-colored hair as Olivia, the same circle-shaped face, the same light dusting of freckles. But the resemblance stopped at the eyes. Unlike Olivia’s hazel eyes, the doll’s eyes were sparkling green. But that was of no consequence. What mattered was that Olivia detested figurines and always had. Her parents should have known better.

Olivia huffed and stomped into her bedroom. What a disaster this birthday had been. Why couldn’t her parents have gotten her a pair of designer shoes or maybe even a new bicycle? But, no, instead she received an uninteresting doll with creepy emerald eyes.

Olivia yawned and tossed the figurine in an obscure corner before sinking onto her comforter and turning toward the wall. Green eyes stared back at her. How had the creature managed to leave the corner?

Grabbing the figurine, Olivia glared at it, throwing it into the wastebasket.

Darkness descended as Olivia slipped under the covers, fluffed her pillow, and squirmed under the sheets. She peeked at the doll to discover it head down, in the trash, right where it belonged. She smiled and rolled over.

Then Olivia screamed. Once again, emerald eyes stared at her.

Snatching the figurine, Olivia leapt up and shoved it into her bureau drawer. She pressed her hands against the smooth wood surface, exhaled slowly and then opened the drawer a crack to peek. The doll hadn’t budged.

Sunlight tiptoed through the window as Olivia hurried to the dresser and yanked the top drawer open. The figurine lay in repose, untouched, gazing at her with hazel brown eyes.

Olivia turned toward the mirror and winked one sparkling green eye at her reflection.