Up there, high, high in the dark attic the old oak trunk had been locked for more than a decade. The heavy iron key was kept inside a drawer somewhere in the kitchen... or in the servants' room perhaps? Nobody was really sure now... Nobody really cared anyway since nobody was planning to open it.

Such trunk contained nothing but objects the people of the house didn't care for anymore.

As the winter raged outside with the wildest blizzard ever seen in years the old dark attic remained silent. Below, the main floor was very noisy busy agitated place. It was the date known by them as "the night before charity" which meant they had their charity festival next day at church. Such occasion came once every year when all the wealthy folks of the community collected their old possessions ~the ones they no longer wanted~ to donate them to the church and allow the not so lucky ones have them.

Tonight everyone in the house ~servants and masters alike~ ran around the house, up and down the stairs, opening closets, browsing in the drawers, deciding what they were willing to give away and taking it to the main living room where they were to be arranged, selected and packed in boxes for the morrow.

Yet, above, the dusty attic remained silent. Even more the heavy trunk. Inside of it, between its rough walls, the old wooden doll had been warmly sheltered for many winters now and there she laid still: motionless, cold and quiet; her painted smile still cheerful, her painted eyes still fixed.

Beside her laid her broken arm which had been separated from her body the last time she saw daylight, before she had been sentenced to this wooden jail where she had lived more than ten years, surrounded by a silent darkness where the time had seemed to stop...

There was nothing for her now but resignation and recalling. Recalling of the times when she was free, part of the outside, lived with people and heard voices... Now she was alone, degraded to this low position, having as her cell companions a pair of old boots, a few lace gowns, an old umbrella and one silk glove without its match... only that and dust. Yet the doll kept always smiling ~smiling at her memories; remembering the happy times.

She had been a happy doll. She had had a happy life. A life where the sun shined and the birds sang and she could see and hear the world around her. Memories of a pretty little girl who used to hold her in her in her arms and talk to her and kiss her like a mother, sing her lullabies at night, comb her rough rope hair in the mornings. Her little friend... her only friend! What happy times they had together!

Careless childhood; only laugh the days away, play in the sun, run through the wild nature, gay and merry, just the two of them sharing a special friendship that no one could ever match. Her pretty friend of rosy cheeks and golden locks!... How she missed her sweet baby voice that played the indomitable mother and cried mocking reprimands "Don't mess your hair! Sit straight! Did you take your medicine tonight?" mimicking the grown-ups' fashion and then bursting into giggles cuddling under the covers clutching the little doll tight against her chest as the reproaching voice behind the closed door commanded that she kept quiet and slept.

Day by day, always like that: the two of them snuggling one against the other; two fragile creatures protecting each other from the cold and hostile world, from all the people that ignored them.

None of them had a way to predict what was to come. But a little boy had come to end their happiness.

It all had a lightening speed. The little doll found herself snatched shortly from her guardian's arms, carried away in the naughty hands that led her to the end of the carpeted corridor hearing her friend's crying behind with despaired claims until the last impulse sent her rolling down the stairs as the cruel lad watched her falling, banging against every staircase, with triumphant grin and glaring eyes.

The girl dashed down the stairs after her doll but there was nothing she could do. It was too late to save her. The wooden toy hit the floor with a hoarse noise and laid there, motionless and speechless, as her left arm rolled on the floor beside her before it came to a stop at the feet of the cook, who had peeked outside the kitchen hearing the noise going on.

She recalled the rain of tears that followed. The girl picked her from the floor, caressing her wooden cheek and pressed it to her face as she held her tight and rocked her in her arms, pouring an endless stream that fell on her blue painted eyes and ran down her wooden face... it almost seemed that the doll herself was crying.

Both of them knew what this meant.

The doll was broken now and broken things had all the same fate: the Attic. As the heartless executor undertook the sentence the girl followed with raining eyes and despaired pout as the doll complied with resignation, without protest or objection, smiling still, yet deeply grieved ~even more than her companion... but her heart was wooden and her eyes were painted: she could not cry.

She felt herself placed upon a silky dress and the heavy top fell on the trunk. The key turned in the keyhole and footsteps went away... those were the last sounds she could perceive. Ever since her life was only loneliness and thought. She didn't know how long she'd stayed there or how long she will still stay. Just reviewed, minute by minute, detail by detail, every single day she lived, calmly, endlessly...

The footsteps seemed to resound in her mind and the sound of the old key got to her ears with unbelievable reality. The blinding light harassed her eyes as she heard the heavy oak top being lifted. Could it be? Was just a dream? Was her sentence really over? As she looked up at the face that fixed her blue eyes on her little wooden head her little wooden heart awoke: it was!

Her friend, her guardian, her companion! It was her! She had finally come to save her from her prison! The most ecstatic happiness possessed her. She could have jumped and cheered with gladness ~but she remained motionless and calm. She felt like crying with joy ~but her painted eyes stayed dry.

The girl lifted her in her pretty hands murmuring "Oooh... almost forgot about..."

The rest of the objects one by one abandoned the trunk before it was once more locked with the heavy key. She gathered all the content in her arms. The little doll included, and her legs took them all down the stairs to the main floor.

The doll was content! She rejoiced her heart observing how the house still looked as she remembered; filling her eyes, absorbing all the images she had been deprived of all the time she had been confined to the darkness.

"I got this too... out of the trunk", the girl said as she walked inside the living room and a distinguished old lady lifted her head to answer her from the red sofa.

"That doll is broken. You should not give it in those conditions"

"They won't mind... the point is to get rid of her"

Suddenly that voice sounded like a stranger ~both for the careless tone and glacial words. For the firs time the doll, overcoming the blinding emotion she had experienced before, now looked up at the person that retained her and realized that she looked different. She had changed; she had grown up... She now saw her as the wooden toy she was and nothing else; the time had set a wall between them... "Get rid of her"? Is that the welcome she was getting after all those years?

Suddenly every inch of her little wooden body started to ache in such a way that it almost seemed to her she was being cut and chopped again by the toymaker's cruel tools. She soon realized this pain came from her heart... if only she could cry and scream and let this pang go away! But she couldn't have this console ~her painted eyes stayed cheerful; her painted mouth still grinned.

The only one that showed any compassion at all was the wind, who decided to free her from that torment. With a violent blow he flung the heavy window open and dashed into the room without waiting invitation. Rushed to the little doll and snatched her from the surprised hands that held her carelessly, lifted her and pushed her all the way across the room towards the fireplace where she fell upon the red hot carbons.

As the two ladies hurried to shut the window once again the doll watched from her position, through the smoke and glow that covered her, how both of them glanced her way but none of them would move one inch to save her. As they walked out of the room leaving her alone with the fire and the silence, she felt calm, deeply relieved and resigned, for now her eyes could finally cry and ease her from her sorrow ~long streams of paint that melted on her scorched face...