The Doll Maker

It is said, she once had a name. But it had been decades since she had become simply the Doll Maker. In the time when she had a name, she had been famous for her portrait dolls, each made in the image of the fortunate little girl for whom it was crafted. Whether through art or magic, as the girl grew to a woman, the doll mirrored every change in her face, until the day when the old woman was laid to rest, her small, white-haired companion by her side. The Doll Maker herself was impossibly old; village whispers measured her life in hundreds of years, but of course, everyone was too polite to ask her age.

Then, when today’s grandmothers were little girls, the Doll Maker suddenly stopped making portrait dolls. Puzzled and disappointed parents asked her why, and she replied with the story of her dream.

In my dream, I was walking through a crowd of people, all walking slowly in the same direction. I searched for a familiar face, but every head was turned away from me or turned toward the grounds if avoiding my gaze. Moving to the edge of the crowd, I found a small raised platform and climbed up on it for a better view. The faces on the silent, moving figures turned toward me as if on a signal, and I saw they were all the same.

It might seem frightening, but in my dream, I felt a deep sense of wonder followed by a wave of peace. Every face was lifted towards me, their lips curved in a slight smile, and their half-closed eyes opened slightly as they looked at me with with an expression of  inner calm and — what was it? Welcome? Acceptance? Love?

I woke and felt drawn to my dressing table, where I looked in the mirror and saw my own face, with its familiar shaggy eyebrows and crooked teeth. I saw the scar from the time I fell from the tree where I was picking apples, and the wrinkles at the corners of my eyes. But for an instant, as if I were still dreaming, my features transformed into the peaceful, calm, open face of the strangers in the crowd. ​

She knew in that moment that she must fill the village with those faces, and from that day on every doll has had a single face. The face of love.