Tiny Trophies

(Inspired by Chuck Wendig’s “Doll Heads” Flash Fiction Challenge … and an adolescence spent traipsing around the Indiana antiques circuit.)

I really wish that Mommy would let me go hunting with Daddy sometimes.  Every fall, when the weather gets cold, it seems like he spends all of his nights in the woods with his friends, and I really miss him.   But my mom says I’m too young and might get hurt.   She also says that I’m hyper and might get overstimulated and hurt someone else.   I think that’s silly, and I think that Daddy thinks it’s silly, too, because he just rolls his eyes when Mommy talks like that.   Even so, he doesn’t try to make her let me go.  He just leaves.

I think my dad must be just about the best hunter in the whole county, because he almost always comes home with a deer.  And he’s proud of his kills, too.   He’ll drag that dead deer out into the little grassy area behind the barn and ***whack*** cut its head off with one swing of Pappaw’s old machete.  Daddy mounts those heads on boards and hangs them in the house, and they look really pretty.  He butchers the body, and we eat the meat all winter long.  I want to be just like my dad.

Mommy and Daddy don’t know it, but I’ve found a way to hunt, too.  I may not be able to go out deep into the woods, but I can go into Sara’s room when she’s not around.  Sara is my big sister, and she loves to collect these pretty little dolls that look just like the beautiful women on TV, except they’re toys.  I like to pretend that I’m a mighty hunter like my dad, so I sometimes sneak through Sara’s door after school and tiptoe up to the dresser drawer where she keeps her dolls.  When they least expect it, I pull the drawer open, jam in the knife that I took from the kitchen last year (my parents don’t know about that, either), and pull out the “deer” that I’ve caught.

Just like Daddy, I drag my kill out behind the barn and lop its head off with the old machete.   I’ve cut myself a few times, but not so bad that I had to tell Mommy about it.   After that, I just throw the body in the big trash can that sits out in the field.   Daddy burns our trash out there, and I don’t think he’s ever seen the doll bodies.  At least, he hasn’t said anything to me about it.

I haven’t quite figured out how to mount the doll heads, but I keep them as my tiny trophies, just like Daddy does with the deer heads.   So, when I’m done cutting things up, I come back into my room, pull out the little shoe box from under my bed, and drop in the newest head.  Someday, I’ll get them all mounted and hung on my wall, just like Daddy does with his deer heads.

I have about 20 doll heads now, and Sara has started to notice that her collection is getting smaller.  In fact, she told our parents that I was taking them, but they didn’t believe her.   After all, what would I want with her stupid old dolls, and where would I put them?  I’m not sure they even believed her about some of the dolls being gone, but they bought her new ones anyway.

This year, Sara is in the sixth grade, and she’s been staying late after school a few times a week to practice for the spelling team.   That means that I can wait until it’s nearly night time to make my kill, and I feel more like a real hunter than ever sneaking around in Sara’s dark room.  I guess I pushed it a little too late tonight, though, because Sara caught me just as I was sliding along the wall and through her door.

Even though she told me to stop, I already had my sights set on the kill, and I had to get my next doll, and I did.  Sara made a lot of noise about it, though.  I guess I didn’t get in trouble because Daddy was out on a real hunt and Mommy went across the road to visit with Mrs. Thompson, who will be my teacher next year.   Nobody heard her, but when Sara was yelling, I noticed, for the first time, that she is starting to look like one of those beautiful women, too.

—-

I actually think that Mommy found the doll body in the trash can this time.   I heard her come in the house and then call for Sara.  Sara must have told Mommy about the doll, because Mommy went outside and then started screaming.   I can’t believe that a little doll body made her that upset.   She must be really mad, though, because she called Daddy on his cell phone, and he came home from the woods.   It’s funny, but I think I hear sirens, too.

I think I may get into trouble for this one.   That’s why I’m hiding under my bed with my little box of doll heads.   I really don’t want my parents to take them away from me.  I finally did figure out how to mount the heads, though.  The coat hook on the back of my door was the perfect spot for Sara.  She really does look like one of those beautiful women on the television, and she’s almost as pretty as one of Daddy’s deer.