All about spiders.!

Not so far away, the time was ten in the morning... and the townsfolk were beyond extraordinary. the doors were opening in this town that everybody thought was imaginary. It was taken off the world map. not even a map maker could trace why that happened. you walk down the road, and there are hamburgers being devoured by creatures of all skin tones, shapes, and voices. one group stuck out, and this is where her story began.

I’m Isabella and this is my story. I grew up as a stuffed animal. literally. that doll you didn’t play with, was most likely me. i sadly enough programmed fear into the hearts of children. my home was a toy shop. 1890 Perfect Lane. I sat quietly on the top shelf for the longest time. dust started to collect on me, but it was okay cause once in awhile i’d get the occasional friendly customer who begged to hold my hand, and play a game with me for a few adored seconds. of course they always left me alone next to the dinosaur who felt even uglier than me, and the barbie who felt like such an imposter standing next to g.i. joe.

conditioning was the worst. that was when they picked through the toys and decided which was worthy of representing the store. the workers would come into the store once night fell, and party until morning came.flipping the light switches on and off while giving me such a headache from all the arguing. as far as they are concerned i can’t speak. and that is how it needs to stay. My friend is packaged in a box. ten feet below me. somewhere in a girls shopping cart is my mother, who never got to say goodbye. My father is five isles away next to the talking frogs who never are quiet. when the messy people in plastic coats circle the shelves, i gasp and hold onto ever fiber in my elastic cotton being.

Those children with marshmallow smiles pull at my heart strings everytime. i’ve wanted to live on a bed, or a windowsill for so long. a nice quilt crocheted by Grandma, or on a nice sweater knitted by a relative that was taken for granted. can’t they see i am begging to be a part of a family, have a best friend One who says goodnight to me, and takes me to sleepovers just so they can brag about how soft i am? instead, i am picked over for every torn button, every imperfection that if i had a best friend wouldn’t matter. I’ve learned to love myself, and never again will i try falling onto that sparkly clean floor. Some of these parents who buy toys look at my price tag and expect the price to dissapear. Once last summer they even tried stuffing my legs into an animal print purse. That is not only offending, but I wish the store would have priced me a bit cheaper, not cause I am cheap, but possibly cause people aren’t that expensive?

We all woke up yesterday morning at opening time, when the doors creak open and the sun shines into my eyes. they are marble, with specks of green etched with a heart shaped marker. I am not a monster. Even though I know he is below me. His cries get to me, worse than my own. So do his sneezes from the dust falling onto his cheap price tag. One day i’ll wake to see him gone. That’ll be the moment I might feel hopeless. Oh one day i’ll ask him his name. Dear Mr. Monster whose tears fall, what might your name be? Want to take a vacation to the lonesliest shelf just to say goodnight? I am so desperate for attention, I have to give it first.

The nightmares are the worst. Once I even dreamed the store burnt to the ground and I had to be at the bottom of the dollar bin. When it is so boring at the top, take a look down, get over your fear of falling, and feel the warm embrace of somebody wearing flower print overalls. Afterall, we all deserve to be happy.

That is how Isabella found her new home, sleeping on a quilt since 1972.

Little girl: Good morning Isabella, I love you.

Isabella: I believe we are all good at heart.

Little girl: Good night Isabella, you are my best friend.

Isabella: This makes me happy, to be accepted as a spider.