The Dollhouse

“I don’t care what you do with it, I just want it gone,” Alex said, pointing at the dollhouse.  

It was an ugly thing, by all accounts. The Victorian style was usually so decorative. But this was grotesque – asymmetrical wraparound porches, gingerbread trim, gabled roofs, and lairy colours.

“What’s wrong with it?” I asked suspiciously, “Apart from the obvious,” I added, gesturing to the fascade.

“Nothing,” Alex said. “It was left to me by my Aunt Clara. Silly old coot. What do I want with a dollhouse? Even the executor was laughing. Seriously, a grown man and a dollhouse!”

“She must’ve wanted you to have it for some reason,” I pressed, “I mean, I can take it. Lacey will love it. But are you sure?”

“Take it,” he insisted, “Aunt Clara really lost it. When she promised me her house, I never dreamt this was what she meant! Silly old coot,” he repeated.

So I took it.

Lacey, as I anticipated, squealed with delight. She threw open the doors and starting playing immediately. I was pleased she liked it.

Lacey hadn’t been playing long when she called out. I hoped she hadn’t tired of it already!

I entered her bedroom, and noticed her arm down one of the chimneys.

“Lace…” I began.

“Something’s in here,” she said, pulling out a piece of paper.

I read the contents, revealing what it was. I smiled, holding the deed to Clara’s mansion. “Looks like Alex is going to have that house after all.”

By Sarah ©2018

Image credit Pinterest

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, First Line Friday – February 16th, 2018; and also, Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, #42 – Revelation. Prose Challenge – In words or less, write a story about the uncovering of a secret.