**The Doll**
In the village, life unfolds in plain sight. Secrets dont stay hidden long, and soon enough, everyone knows.
This couple was no exception. They had married for lovetall, hardworking, a fine match. Their cottage was neat, the garden free of weeds, blooming with flowers all summer. The young wife was warm with everyone, well-liked for never gossiping. Her husband was quiet, but silence comes in shades. Some men are soft-spoken, gentle. Others, like him, carried a hardnessinherited from his father, his grandfather, the way he was raised. Yet his wife never felt it. He shouldered the hard labor, drove into town without complaint to buy her new dresses, never skimped. And he never joined the drinking crowd. At first, the village men pressed him”Come on, just one!”but hed shake his head. “Not for me.” That was enough. He never raised a hand to her either. The other wives envied her. She tried, early on, to tell them they shouldnt accept beatings, but they brushed her off. “You just got lucky,” theyd say. The bitter ones whispered darker thingsthat her luck wouldnt last. She ignored them. It pained her to see women let their husbands walk all over them.
But there was one shadow in their home: four years married, and no child. Both healthy, yet still just the two of them.
Then, one day, a neighbor begged them to take a puppyher terrier had eight, and seven had homes. The runt remained, small and frail. “Youll fatten her up,” the neighbor urged. “A little life in your yard.” To the wifes surprise, her husband agreed. That was how they got Doll.
And what a surprise he turned out to bepatient, doting. He taught her commands, brought her inside when it rained, built her a proper kennel with a wooden floor. He trained her to sleep there, but at night, she roamed free, always returning by morning.
Then they noticed: Doll was expecting. Thats when the husbands true nature surfaced. He was furious. He chained her up, snarling, “If I catch you running off, dont bother coming back.”
The pups came at nightfour of them. He found them at dawn, fresh and blind in the kennel. He stormed inside. “Dolls turned the yard into a bloody kennel,” he told his wife. “Four of them.”
Her face lit up. “Really? And she didnt make a sound! Let me see”
“See them before I drown the lot,” he cut in.
She froze. “Drown them? Puppies? What about Doll? You think she wont feel it? That shes not a mother?” She grabbed her shawl. “Ill ask aroundsomeone might want one”
But he was already outside, hauling buckets from the well, filling a barrel. She crouched by the kennel, tears slipping as she watched the four tiny shapes pressed to Dolls side. Shed heard of this cruelty but never seen it.
She knew him well enough to know arguing was useless. She went inside, shut the windows, the doorcouldnt bear to hear it.
Later, he came in. “They didnt feel a thing. Blind as moles. Buried them at the far end of the garden.”
She whispered, “Does Doll know?”
“Dunno. Didnt ask. Shouldve kept her locked up. No more wandering.”
A mournful howl cut through the air.
“Shell stop,” he said. “Might teach her a lesson.”
Something inside her fractured. Yes, the village culled litterskittens, pupsbut why like this?
That day, she barely spoke to him. He grumbled, “Sentimental nonsense. Whos going to feed them? Clean up after them?”
Dolls eyes stayed wet for days. The wife swore ittears. Shed seen the dog sit for hours at the gardens edge, right where hed buried them.
Doll had two more litters. Each time, the same: the barrel, the drowning, the chain. The wife withdrew further, the bond between them fraying.
Then came the last act. Doll, heavy with pups again, waddled awkwardly, her belly low. Autumn chill kept her in the kennel.
She never got the chance to freeze. One morning, the husband took his shotgun, hauled Doll to the pond, and shot her.
The old neighbor whod given them Doll saw it all. She stood trembling, tears streaking her wrinkled cheeks. As he passed, she rasped, “What have you done, son? You took livesa mother, her unborn. You think the Lord wont repay you?”
He glared but said nothing. Superstitious drivel. Yet her words festered.
Days later, his wife met him at the door, breathless. “I think Im pregnant.”
Joy swallowed everything. They rushed to the hospital, where tests confirmed itfive weeks along. They whispered plans, resisting the urge to buy baby things too soon.
A month before the due date, fever struck. Then, silenceno more kicks. The hospital confirmed the worst: a stillborn boy.
His wife shattered. She stopped eating, barely spoke. “Find a proper wife,” she murmured once. “Im barren.”
He exploded. “Dont say that!”
But despair clung to her. He grew desperate. Superstition gnawed at himhad someone cursed them? Hed heard of a woman, a seer. He sneaked out with his wifes photo.
The seers cottage reeked of lavender and incense. Before he could speak, she said, “Your wifes blameless. Youre the one who took lives. For no reason.”
He stormed out, shaking.
Driving home, he passed the old neighborthe one whod warned him. Dolls eyes, his wifes eyesthe same hopelessness.
Guilt crushed him. He went to church, confessed to a kind-eyed old woman. “Help others,” she advised. “Especially those who cant speak for themselves.”
He found a dog shelter. At first, he just donated, then drove vets, transported injured strays. For six months, he returned, learning each dogs name.
Then he met Bennya scrawny spaniel missing an ear, found near the railway. Bennys wary eyes followed him.
One evening, he brought Benny home. His wife, hollow-eyed in her nightgown, barely glanced upuntil Benny licked her hand.
“Wheres his ear?” she whispered, lifting him.
That night, Benny slept on her pillow.
Gradually, color returned to her cheeks. She cooked again, smiled.
A month later, she whispered, “Im pregnant.”
This time, it stuck. Twin girls arrived, healthy, laughing. Benny trotted beside them, ears perkedone whole, one not.
The husband, once so hard, softened. The past cruelty faded, as if washed clean. He knew now: kindness was the stronger force. And life, in all its forms, was precious.
