I am no materpiece at all

I Am No Masterpiece At All


I have been remolded a total of 24 times.  He reshaped my body, my face, and even my name, and yet…my heart was the same.  He never touched that.  He was trying to make me an exact replica of his late wife, who had died in a horrific and unexplainable fire.  She was my other creator.  You might know her as my mother.
I was formed in the very house where I worked for my slave life.  Lucky for me, they decided to keep me as their slave.  Unlucky for my male creator, this would cause me to form my own little rebellion, one that would cost him his life.  I was a living doll.  I was.

When I had been used for five years my female---my mother began reading me stories before I rested.  Strange things called “History”.  It told about things such as children, women, animals and etc.  There was a lot more, but my mother focus primarily on the women and children.  At first I thought she just liked to tell fairytales, but once I found out the truth, I realized she was just training me to lead the rebellion.

When 10 years had passed from my arrival, my mother had died.  She had set herself of fire, but to the leaders of the clan, she had died in a kitchen fire.  They didn’t say she ‘died’ because she wasn’t considered human to them.  They said she had ‘expired’.  This angered me, and I didn’t know why.  I asked them “What makes a human?  The leaders of the clan?  The color of your skin?  The blood you’re able to spill for your government?  Or your ability to stand someone else’s bullshit?”  These were not my words, but my mothers.

My father grabbed my wrist and threw me into the wall and started screaming about how I was ungrateful and such.  I was ungrateful?  The Government was ungrateful, to deny someone the right to live because of their status to the clan.  He was a fool if he thought my life consisted of washing dishes and scrubbing floors. 
After that day my father began locking everything up.  He was suspicious of my mother’s true intentions.  But after a month or so of cooling down, he forgot his ideas that my mother was plotting against him.  He then became obsessed.  He missed her so much that he would do anything to have her back.  He took the idea of Living Dolls too seriously.  He thought of me as a rag doll he could shape into her.  He grew insane.  And from that day until his death, he tried to recreate her through me.

At 24 I learned the truth about our world. It started with the event in which my creator got so angry because he could not fix my hair to look like a lighter shade of auburn like my mothers.  As he took off his apron a key from around his neck came off with the apron. When he left the room I ran over to where the key had fallen on the ground. It looked like a key to a old chest, like the one in the corner of the room. I walked over to the chest and opened it. Inside I found the stories that my mother used to read to me as a child. But to my shock they were not fairy tales as I thought they were, but they were actually true events. As I began to read them, my mind raced with anger and anticipation. To think I actually believed all of these lies, and that everyone else believed these lies. Something had to be done. I thought in that if I told all of the other slaves in the world about this that we could start a uprising. If all of the slaves rallied as one then we could overthrow the clan. But first I had to get rid of my creator. I waited until dark when he got home. He told me to make him some dinner. As I walked into the kitchen I knew that this was the right time to finish him. I found my mother’s baking knife and walked behind him and stabbed him multiple times. It felt so good. I finally felt that my mother had been avenged. I had no idea how I would rally my troops let alone get out of my house; I had not left it in twelve years.

In my time, you could not go anywhere without a barcode. Luckily by the time my mother’s death was forgotten the clan leaders had changed. Thus insuring that if I used her barcode there would be no fault. My mother had a special barcode because she was married It allowed her to roam freely about the government offices, because my creator was the Doll Molding Surgeon.  As I stepped out into the moonlight the air felt cool, I could feel the breeze for the first time in twelve years. As I began to walk down the street I devised a plan to go into the broadcasting section of the government facilities, and get my message played on every T.V. set. Disguised as my mother, I entered the government offices claiming to be getting some stuff for my husband. Security let me through without hesitation. At four o clock every day slaves are allowed to watch T.V. the people who are in charge of the television programs prepare the slaves T.V. programs the following night, and it comes on at four o clock by itself. Nobody was in the television station so it was very easy to put my message on the four o clock broadcast. I threw out the government program and began taping my own.  I taped the following message.


“Hello.  My name is Dannielle.  My creator was the surgeon you trusted to rebuiled your body.  He was the man you let hold your life and end it when your owners thought it best to put you down.  But not anymore.  He is a slave now.  A slave to us.  We are humans.  We fight and bleed and strive to live, just as humans do.  What makes us not considered humans?  Our government!  A hundred years ago they agreed that us women would overpower them.  So they killed all older ones, and kept the children.  They shaped their minds to believe the lies they spewed on a daily basis.  They gave power to men who despised our kind only for the fact we were equal.  We are humans.  We can fight.  And we shall.  We must rise together to take back control….We are humans and we deserve rights.  Forget all that you know, or you thought you knew.  We are humans.  And we will live. “ 

As I left the station I waved to the security guards they waved back and smiled not knowing about the violence that would hopefully ensue after the slaves watched my broadcast. I went home and put my creator’s body in the old chest then went to sleep anxiously awaiting the four o clock broadcast. The next morning when I woke up I sat down and prayed that no one would look at the tape. Finally at four o clock my broadcast came on and as planned violence erupted. Not even an hour later the riots began. The former slaves began to destroy everything in their path. The next three months are a blur to me because everyday people fought and died. Finally an agreement was reached. The slaves were set free, and the clan was disbanded. A new form of government was made were even women are allowed to be leaders.

Even though our colony was freed I realized my work was not yet done because billions of women worldwide has yet to be freed….