Hi! Molly-Anne here. Today, I wanted to venture into Emilie and Jasmine’s room. Though I have heard of Jasmine’s snobby and rude remarks to Molly and the others before, she couldn’t be that bad to me, right? Right! So after deciding that I began my adventure…
I went into the computer room first. I was playing on this contraption. All the electronic devices Molly and the other had owned were skinny MacBook Pro’s or iPhones. This was big and bulky. Still, it was fun! I pressed a button on the keyboard and squealed. The screen changed! I clicked the mouse button and gasped. The screen went away. I pressed another button, and another, and another, spelling
and then clicked “enter” without knowing it, and Google research popped up. No results. I was mad at the computer. I wanted to play. It didn’t want to. It wanted to search for whatever i typed in. Hey, what if I searched “games”? Then I could play!
I didn’t have time to type “games” because I didn’t know how. (Molly is helping me type this as we speak…I am only five years old while Molly is eight!!) There was no time, for just then Emilie stepped into the room. “Well, aren’t you a darling!” she cried in a most tender British accent. “Aren’t you Molly’s plaything? What do they call them? Dolls? Aren’t you Molly’s doll? How adorable!” I didn’t have time to squirm out of her firm grip. I was being carried into a room that by the looks of it I guess she shared it with Jasmine.
“Well isn’t this thing cute!” Jasmine exclaimed, looking up from her tin box of mints she was holding(it was now empty for she had ate them all.)
She snatched me from Emilie’s loving hands. “No!” Emilie cried. She stood up angrily and and cried in a deep British accent, “You let her go! She’s Molly’s!” Jasmine snorted. “Relax, I’m not gonna hurt her,'” she told Emilie. She looked me over. “Nice, but one thing, her hair…..oh, the bangs…so out of style. She needs a fashion re-look.” then Jasmine muttered under her breath something about taking me when Emilie or Molly wasn’t looked and giving me a complete makeover and making me hers. “Hey, look over there, FLYING BALONEY!” Jasmine cried. Emilie, falling for the phony trick, turned her head away, trying to spot the “flying baloney.”
She shoved me into a drawer. I tried to scream for help, but my voice was muffled by the drawer being slammed shut. Emilie finally got bored trying to spot the “flying baloney”, realized it was a trick, and turned back, realizing I was no where in sight. “What have you done with Molly’s doll?” she demanded. Jasmine laughed. “I didn’t do anything, she ran off,” Jasmine fibbed. Emilie didn’t believe Jasmine. She looked suspicious, but she returned to fixing her hair. Jasmine smiled to herself.
Will I ever get out of here? Will the next time you see me, will I be completely changed into Jasmine’s dream doll? Will I ever see Molly’s sweet face again?
In Captured Molly-Anne, part two!
Molly-Anne, Emilie, and Jasmine