ballerina doll

Reads: 338  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
A ballerina story...

Submitted: May 18, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 18, 2012




Ballerina Doll


I didn’t know where I had got the idea.

But I learned something new that night.

The most difficult tale to tell

Is the one not yet written.

I was with my daughter and she had to sleep.

I don’t know why she had to sleep, but her mother insisted that she go to bed latest at eight o’clock.

What bullshit.

We don’t have to sleep, actually.

I know of her going to bed with her mother at eight and remaining awake till eleven.

Why don’t we just leave the kid in peace. She’ll fall asleep while jumping around anyway.


There are rules.

I hate rules.

When there is no place for flexibility in the rules, we welcome crime and they become meaningless.

Disregarding the red light, for example.

The driver whirling ahead from among the pedestrians at a crowded hour deserves all kinds of punishment.

Bu the red light for which we don’t stop at three in the morning when everything is dead calm can’t be a crime.

But who are you trying to impress?

Immediate fine..

There you go.

We’ll pay, of course.

And so is sleep

How can the child learn to eat when she’s hungry if you keep stuffing food down her throat.

There should be some flexibility at a certain age.

Because no matter what you do, you can’t avoid the inevitable.

The story of bringing up children is a big lie.

Why does the child of a very honorable family become a thief?

This doesn’t have anything to do with family upbringing.

All this is only our wish to put a lid on everything.

The rest is a lie.

I have to put my daughter to sleep.

A fairy tale, daddy-she says.

So she’ll be told a tale to go to sleep.

What should I tell..?

Little Red Riding Wood and the Wolf..

The essence is clear, the rest..?

Ali Baba and the Forty Playmates…

Alice in Foulland…


I remember the names.

But not the words.

She knows them better than me anyway
and comes up with request tales like, skip this and that, tell me the one with the dino.

Honey, your father never liked fairy tales.

How the hell do you come up with these tales?

So, with the writer in my blood, what should I make up in a few minutes for the small devil jumping up and down on my head.

She doesn’t buy anything I say.

I wonder if she’ll sleep with the melody, should I would put on the music box.

Maybe it’ll calm her

Where is the damned box.


There it is



I open the box

The ballerina inside stands up

She starts to turn around slowly on the scarlet background along with the mechanical music.

When have I set this thing..?

We are both watching

the ballerina turn.

It’s beautifully made.

I had bought this from Egypt.

It was cheap and is of good quality.

At least it doesn’t look like the ones sold on the streets here.

A big box

And the ballerina’s face is meaningful.



Should tell you the tale of the ballerina doll..?

Yes daddy.

OK honey.


I have never been able to understand ballerinas.

The fact that harmony sometimes becomes even the ballets that I’ve never liked.

And the fact that those bastards with their false smiles wrap their arms around those angel girls.

The fall,

The sorrow,

The death of ballerinas.

Death becomes a ballerina the most.


Do tell daddy,

Says my daughter with her tiny voice..


Once upon a time honey,

Actually a mystery whence upon a time

There was a boy.

Among the toys of this boy, there was a ballerina doll in her box.

This ballerina doll used to live in her box among the other toys.

The other toys never had the time to lift their head from their mischief to play with the romantic doll.

Until the day a guest brought the boy a slightly fat, funny looking trinket with golf pants and a mustache.

That night, while the boy slept, after all the other toys had tired of their mischief and dropped dead on their feet, she heard a voice.

It was a beautiful aria.

A melancholic aria from a deep voice…


non sopete quale offetto……….


What does that mean daddy

It’s an aria by Giorgio Germont, honey. From La Traviata..

She doesn’t ask me what an aria is.

She knows.


The ballerina doll stood up in her box and started to turn.

The newcomer not understood by the others fell silent and waited for the doll to finish the dance.

Then he slowly approached her.

And was left gazing into the dark eyes of the doll.

For a while his eyes were transfixed in hers.

You have a beautiful voice, the ballerina said – who are you?

The trinket proudly said, I am an opera singer. A baritone.

The dark eyed doll was intensely interested.

She smiled, will you sing another piece?

Just as the trinket, enchanted by those large eyes and beautifully shaped lips, was going to start another aria,

the ballerina doll said, I am going to dance along, will you set me?

The trinket turned the mechanism with ease

And started to sing his aria.

He sang

The ballerina turned.

The ballerina turned

The trinket sang

Never tiring until daybreak.

The ballerina doll was sleepy as the sun set.

After she had fallen asleep, the trinket went back to his place in the room

And waited impatiently for the evening.

For a time, the most beautiful arias mingled along with the most beautiful dances.

But the trinket couldn’t stand it anymore

He was in love with the ballerina doll…

He just couldn’t tell her.

One night he decided to declare his love.

He prepared his best aria.

He sang this best aria

in the company of the most beautiful dance

And he said in a deep voice

to the most beautiful ballerina doll ever made,


But the ballerina doll was suddenly a thousand pieces

-but but but- she said

you’re a trinket and I’m a toy

and we don’t belong together.

The trinket laughed in his confident voice

Yes, he said

But all problems will be solved if we love each other.

But but but, said the ballerina doll

I’m only a small ballerina

And you’re a big big trinket

How would this end

What if you’re broken before me?

Ha ha ha, said the trinket. What difference does that make

Important are the moments of experiences in between – he said,

hands on his hips.

But but but, muttered the ballerina doll with an evasive look

What if you go away one day?

What if I don’t, said the trinket…

What if you don’t love me, said the doll

What if I do, said the trinket

But but but, the ballerina doll started..

Silence! - thundered the trinket

If you don’t love me, tell me and I’ll go – he said, frowning.

No-said the ballerina

Don’t go

Sing me arias

I will-said the trinket

And you tell me whether you love me

The ballerina danced in silence

Until dawn

The baritone trinket was thoughtful and sleepless the whole day.

He decided to go.

The next evening, after the arias and the dances

He stood before the doll and said in a sorrowful voice


But something is missing – he said

You must kiss me

(My daughter is not asleep yet and believing herself to be the subject, stoops up to kiss me with her small lips)

The ballerina doll refuses to kiss him

If I do, this will mean I accept you-she said.

But you have accepted me for days-said the trinket.

I don’t know-said the ballerina doll.

The trinket held the ballerina doll in his strong arms

And pulled her to himself.

The ballerina doll resisted somewhat

But the trinket was very strong

He kissed the ballerina doll.

The doll kissed back,

First because she was obliged and had to break free,

Then for her own love, with the intensity of the feeling…

They kissed until dawn.

Then the time of farewell was on them.

Just as the trinket was going to say goodbye, he saw a tear drop on the edge of the ballerina doll’s dark eyes

He kissed those tears as well.

He was stirred by their salty taste

Neither said anything.


The ballerina doll went back to her box,

and the trinket to his place on the shelf.

And nothing would be the same anymore.


The day

Started to become alive…


My daughter was asleep.

Just on time.

If she would have asked for the end of the tale,

I wouldn’t have been able to make it up.


Good night baby…


Kaan Erkam

Ankara 2000

© Copyright 2020 kaan erkam. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

More Fantasy Short Stories