Alma Part 2 Arthur
Clink. Spinning around, Alma’s beady eyes caught sight of a figure standing in the gaping mouth of a shop window. Scampering over to the window she noticed the figure was a doll, identical to her in every way, from her green eyes to her baggy combat trousers.
Wanting it for herself, Alma patted the glass, only to realise the doll had moved to a velvet topped table near the centre of the room. She shook the door handle, but it was locked. In anger, Alma picked up some snow, shaped it into a ball and hurled it at the door. She stormed away, downhearted.
Creak. Peering over her shoulder Alma saw that the door had edged open. Darting back in excitement and shock, she pushed the door wider and stepped inside. The smell of mothballs lingered around shelves filled with dolls. Dolls from different nations, different eras in time and all wide eyed.
Haunting though it was, Alma tiptoed in. “Just get the doll and leave,” she repeated incessantly in her head, her heart beating faster. Crunch. She looked down surprised to see she had knocked over a figure on a bike. Placing the doll upright again it pedalled, crashing into the door, as if trying to signify something. She looked back up to find her doll double had moved again.