An illusion of Perfection

I just came across an un-edited short story I wrote god knows how long ago, so I figure may as well post it somewhere. xD Critiques are loved, and I know it's a little generic but I kind of like it. ;3


There are few places in the world that can be called perfect, some places have unpleasant people, others have an unpleasant economy, and many are just plain unpleasant. But somewhere in the world, there is one little town that can be called perfect, where everyone is happy, well fed, and beautiful, this town is called Edison Ville and that is where our story begins.
••••••••••••
Every house in Edison Ville is distinguishable by three characteristics, a white picket fence, an even lawn, and an apple red mailbox on each curb. Every day fathers go to work, little boys and girls go out to play, and mothers stay inside cooking and cleaning. This routine has been the same for as long as anyone can care to remember, and the citizens keep it that way.

The Johnsons were a picture of perfection; Mr. Johnson went off to work every day with his pressed suit and his leather briefcase. Mrs. Johnson bustled around the house in her lovely flowered apron, and little Bobby was the talk of the town with his beautiful blue eyes. The Johnsons knew what worked well and did their best to keep it going.

However, every few months a family grows or shrinks. Such changes are immediately adapted to, and the cycle continues. Right now, one of these changes was occurring, The Johnsons were gaining another member, a miracle indeed.

Mrs. Johnson laid back holding her new daughter to her chest, a perfect little girl. Mr. Johnson and their son Bobby stood by the bedside in the pristine hospital room, smiling big with their perfectly straight teeth. They all leaned in; waiting for their new miracle to open her eyes, hoping that they would have another blue eyed angel. The lids parted, and the Johnsons felt their perfect world shatter.

“What’s wrong with it?” Mrs. Johnson screeched, dropping the tiny bundle as if it had burned her. “Is it sick? It’s not right!” The infant’s eyes were orbs of pure, milky white, not a trace of color in either of them.

Mr. Johnson covered Bobby’s eyes and gagged. “This thing, what is this thing?” He muttered, turning his eyes to the doctor he repeated “What is this thing?” Bobby began to cry and a perplexed nurse ushered him into the hall.

The doctor stared at the little ball of life, which during this ordeal had yet to utter a sound. “I’ve never seen an actual case, but I think I know what this is.” The room went silent, and the doctor continued. “It appears that this infant is blind.” The Johnsons stared blankly at the doctor, so he went on, “It means that she cannot see.”

They had birthed an imperfect creature. A stain. Mrs. Johnson began to sob, “How could this happen?” she cried, “We didn’t do anything to deserve this kind of punishment!” She took a deep breath and turned to her husband, “We can’t let anyone know about this, we would be hated, maybe even banished!”

Directing his eyes to the doctor, Mr. Johnson said, “This doesn’t leave the room, understand me?” The doctor nodded slowly and took one last look at the now sleeping child, and then left.
Little Bobby came back in slowly and looked at the tiny girl saying, “Mama, do we have to keep it? It’s gross.” Mrs. Johnson grimaced, and nodded.

“We will just pretend its not here, that way it won’t ever be a problem.” She looked to her husband in a way that said, “Right?”

Four years passed, and the Johnson family did all they could to keep their little monster a secret. They named “it” Efah, and kept her in the old cellar beneath their house; a storage space roughly the size of a small tool shed. Efah’s hair had grown out black, distressing her mother all the more, and her skin was a ghostly white due to lack of sunlight. Her basement home consisted of a tiny mat for sleeping, and a single doll which was given to her by the nurse who assisted with the birth. The nurse was fired immediately.

Efah woke up at the same time every morning and spent her day either counting the water drops that fell from an old, leaky pipe, brushing out the hair of her little rag doll with her fingers, or listening through the tiny slit window above her, imagining scenes to go with the sounds of the “normal” children playing. The Johnsons would throw down a loaf of bread every three days, and lowered a jug of water every two.

However, despite all of their efforts to keep her existence a secret, in a small community such as Edison Ville, things get around, and by Efah’s fifth year of life, the Johnson’s secret had become a sort of urban legend.

Kids told ghost-stories of her at sleepovers, and parents threatened their children that “if you don’t do as I say Efah will get you.” Most of these were told in harmless fun, and no one really believed that the ghostly girl really existed. But every day Efah would listen to the children talking about her, whispering and giggling as her expense, while she sat in the damp cellar, silent and sightless. It was shortly after her uncelebrated sixth birthday, that the first child went missing.

It was a damp day in April that started like every other before it. Fathers woke and went off to work, while mothers made breakfast and cleaned before going to wake the children for school.
Across the street from the Johnsons, were the Petersons. They were a friendly family with a hard working father, a caring mother, and a talkative daughter. The daughter, Sally, prided herself on her ability to spin tales of Ghostly Efah, and was often found trying to peek into the slit window in the cellar of the Johnson household. Many of the adults in Edison Ville thought that it was “charming” that she was so curious. And Mrs. Peterson couldn’t agree more.

Mr. Peterson had just left for work, and Mrs. Peterson was walking up the stairs to Sally’s room to wake her, “It’s time to get up darling!” she called as she rapped on the door. No answer. She opened the door, expecting Sally to be asleep under the covers; she found only an empty bed that looked as though it had never been slept in. Mrs. Peterson gasped, put her hand on her forehead and fainted.

A week passed and no one could find Sally, and it wasn’t long before children began to say that she must have disobeyed her mother, because Efah came and took her away. The other adults brushed this off as nonsense, but the Johnsons looked at each other, worried. She was a monster; who knew what she was capable of. So the following night, Mrs. Johnson peeked in on her ghost daughter. Efah sat on her mat, brushing her doll’s hair, silent. Mrs. Johnson sighed in relief and relocked the door. She failed to notice however, a new doll sitting next to Efah’s feet, a little girl doll, with a very large mouth.

To mourn the loss of the perfect little Sally the adults began quietly cursing the myth that was Efah in their nightly prayers, blaming her story for the first tragedy that ever happened in their little utopia. Even the Johnsons joined in, cursing their little creature in the cellar. The curses were meant to be private, but Efah heard them, she heard every word. She would rock back and forth, hugging her knees and repeating the curses, making them into a little song. She smiled and sang, playing with her new doll. Soon the Johnsons stopped throwing her bread, and they no longer lowered water into her room. They decided it was time to get rid of the monster.

Within a week people began to disappear, not just children. All around Edison Ville, townspeople vanished. One by one, the population disappeared, leaving no trace of the bustling community that once was.

The perfect white fences went grey, the apple red mailboxes faded and chipped, and the even lawns grew wild. In one house however, sat a white eyed little girl, smiling as she played with her enormous collection of dolls. And on the top of her pile of toys sat three, happy figures, one man doll with a pressed suit and little leather briefcase, one woman doll with a lovely flowered apron, and a little boy doll with the most beautiful blue eyes.


Let me know what you think, I think I wrote it about three years ago but I'm not really sure. xD

I didn't read over it too carefully, so if there is something glaringly wrong just let me know. ;3

Also please forgive the format, transfer makes it wonky.