Angelina Lui, Period 2, 5/3/23

Creativity & Fiction

Craft a piece of FAN fiction related to any of the reading we’ve done in class that addresses one
or more of the following:

• Literary elements (i.e. structure, tone, diction, mood, irony, and figurative language) to craft a narrative. 
• Structural features of drama (stage directions, character attributions/tags, dialogue, monologues, and/or soliloquies) to craft a script.
• Multidimensional characters to develop themes and create socio-political metaphors.

It was a warm and sunny day in Paris. The streets were bustling with people going about their
everyday lives. My daughter Camille was holding my hand as we strolled around the city. Her
birthday was today and I wanted to celebrate the fact that she was turning six by taking her out
to have a day full of fun. I felt Camille tug on my hand gently and saw her point at a nearby cafe.

“Mother, can we please go get some pastries? They taste really delicious!”

“Of course, anything for you my dear!”

When I brought her inside the cafe, the aroma of coffee and baked goods took over my sense of smell. My daughter spent quite a bit of time thinking about what she wanted to get but eventually settled on pains a la Duchesse and profiteroles. She nibbled on the desserts delicately, as if she wanted to savor every bite. After she was done eating, we went to the park. Many entertainers and performers were putting on a show for the visitors of the park. The sound of violins and accordions playing together in harmony from one section of the park flooded my ears. In another area of the park, trained animals of all kinds, dancers, and acrobats attracted the attention of Parisians with their performance. Camille was especially enamored by the tricks the trained animals knew how to do.

Soon, the day was drawing to a close. The sun had begun to set and the air now felt cool. The final destination for our little outing was my doll shop. I had made my daughter Camille her own little doll with custom clothing, accessories and props. Of course, she didn’t know about this surprise birthday gift. We soon arrived at my store. Inside, there were many different dolls on display for the customers but none of them were for my daughter. I took her to the back of the building, where I made all of the dolls, and took the one made especially for Camille and showed it to her. Her eyes lit up with joy and she made a little gasp of shock.

“Is this for me, mother? It looks just like me! I really love it; I’m going to play with it all the time.”

“Of course, I also made multiple clothing and accessories so you can change her outfit whenever you want. There are also props that go with the doll so you can act like you are taking care of it.”

“Thank you so much mother!”

“I’m just glad you like it. I would do anything to make you happy. Happy birthday!”

Camille twirled the doll in the air and hugged it to her chest. We went home together after that. I didn’t realize that would be the last birthday my daughter would have. 

A few months had passed since then and Camille had started to become more tired easily. She also seemed to go out of breath more quickly than usual. At first, I thought nothing of it. I believed that she only had a minor illness and that it would soon resolve it. However, after a couple of days, her symptoms became more intense. One day, I thought that maybe taking Camille out for a walk to get some fresh air would help. After a bit of time though, my daughter started coughing uncontrollably. I quickly brought her back home and told her to get some rest. She went to lay in bed and brought the doll I gifted her to keep her company. When I went to stay by the side of her bed, I began to ask her about how she was feeling.

“Camille, please tell me what you are feeling right now.”

Her voice sounded weak and quiet when she spoke. “My chest really hurts and my body feels very warm.”

“Oh dear, I’ll get a doctor to come to our home and check up on you as soon as I can.” I held her hand gently in mine as I whispered to her.

Camille coughed and wheezed before replying. “Mother, what if the doctor isn’t able to take care of me? Will I ever get better?”

“Don’t say something like that! Now save your energy and rest.”

The next day, I brought a doctor over to see if he could figure out what was wrong with her. My
daughter apparently had pneumonia, which meant that something was wrong with her lungs. In
order to be treated, Camille needed to take medication that would purge the illness from her body by inducing vomiting and excretion. My daughter’s condition only deteriorated and the disease continued to progress. I was so desperate to cure Camille that I agreed to try bloodletting as a treatment on her. If impure fluids that was causing her pneumonia could be removed by letting blood flow out of her body, maybe it could get rid of her disease. She was terrified at the prospect of having her skin be cut and blood removed. Camille protested against the treatment and begged me not to go through with it but I told her that it must be done if she wanted to get better. Throughout the entire process, tears were rolling down her face and she was squeezing her doll tightly. But no matter what treatments the doctor tried on her, nothing worked, and eventually she passed away.

I could not deal with the fact that my daughter had left this world. My entire doll shop became filled with replicas of the girl that was no longer with me. Most of my days were spent making those dolls. I suppose that maybe it was a form of self-punishment. I felt partially responsible for her death, that maybe the treatments that I forced Camille to take played a factor in accelerating the progression of her disease. Maybe forcing myself to create and work in a ship full of dolls that looked like her was a reminder of the loved one I had lost. I wanted her to be with me again so badly but I knew that the baby dolls that I made could never give me back that mother-daughter relationship I wanted so badly. But then, it was at the doll store I owned that I met this immortal child named Claudia.