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PORCELAIN TEMPLE Zach Palmer Cold, gray days seemed to slow time to a crawl. Oliver waited patiently for the days to pass but the cold was too fierce to play outside and Dad needed the computer for most of the day for work. Oliver wheeled himself to his bedroom window, the cold metal of the chair nipping against his fingertips. It wasn't fun being sick and at the age of 8, none of the other kids in the neighborhood seemed to understand why he couldn't play or be part of their games. Oliver sometimes struggled to understand it himself. Christmas was only 3 days away and Oliver could hardly wait, he just wished he had something to pass the time or someone to talk to. His father stayed in his office working most of the day and his mother, well she wasn't around anymore. Oliver never met her but he spent many afternoons wondering what she must've been like. The most conversation he got out of the day from his father was at breakfast and dinner where each day he would ask his dad how work was and his dad would respond by asking what Oliver did for the day. Most nights were meals from a box but Oliver didn't mind because his Father let him out extra parmesan cheese on it to taste better. A few days before Christmas, Oliver's father had asked him a new question: what he would like for Christmas? “A friend to play with.” Oliver responded between obnoxious coughs. They were ever-persistent these cold days. His father grinned, having an idea in mind from a recent ad he had seen online. Christmas day came and presents were all bundled under the tree for young Oliver. He excitedly tore open all that he could get a hold of, his proud father sitting on the couch in a blue bathrobe and sipping lukewarm coffee. The last present, and certainly the biggest sat in the center of the room. Oliver leaned over as far as his wheelchair would allow in order to pick up. It wasn’t as big as him but it was pretty close. The packaging gave way to blonde curls and bright green eyes and a grin as wide as the sunrise. It was an old Shirley Temple doll, although Oliver was too old to know who that was beyond late night advertisements for CD soundtracks. He loved it. He loved her infectious smile more than anything. Oliver found himself smiling right alongside Shirley that morning, the biggest smile he had been able to make in a long time. Oliver and Shirley played all day long together. That night, things began to change. Oliver’s father tucked him into bed nice and tight, not that he could really go anywhere otherwise. Shirley had been leaned up in a chair near the bedroom door. The lights were turned off and the door closed shut. A soft green hue took over the room. Oliver looked over to see and it was as if Shirley’s eyes had been painted over with a glow in the dark paint. He stared at the glowing green eyes, something about them in the dark unsettled Oliver to his core. The smile, no longer infectious, at least not in the way it was before. The light coming from the eyes faded as Shirley’s eyelids shuttered. Oliver could do nothing but hold the covers even tighter.
