She imagined the ornaments within remained as bright and shiny as ever for
while quite delicate and prone to disaster when handled, she knew that stored away in the chest with depths of straw around them they were safe as could be. Opening the Christmas chest had, at one time, been a much anticipated event but now it seemed the excitement within had been forgotten by all but one small wooden doll.
When looking out beyond the chest Lucy’s eyes traveled across the expanse of the attic
in ways she feared she herself never would. Maneuvering up and down a few
spools of thread was one thing but throwing herself down from the height
of the Christmas chest something else all together. Even in the absence of human presence,
motion of any kind was difficult for Lucy as she was a doll without legs.
The little bit of her that was left had, out of necessity, been permanently attached
to a wooden base. It was an alteration that allowed her to stand up straight on her own,
but unlike dolls of the jointed variety her movements were limited to tiny hops.
To leap from the Christmas chest therefore would be to abandon her basket home forever,
for she knew it unreasonable to even imagine
she could just as easily hop back up.