The Unseemly Figurine

Thomas had never been referred to as a “looker” and now, at the age of forty-six, he had contended himself to the fact he never would be. His eyebrows, light-brown like his curly hair, were much too thick. The nose was an odd hook shape, and the thinly-lipped mouth wide. When he talked he revealed teeth needing serious dentistry work, crooked and yellowed.

The clothes he wore, as he walked into the antique store, did not reflect his poor appearance. In fact it was a rather gentlemanly combination of a wide-brimmed hat, a black coat, and a green scarf warding against the cold. To top it off he carried an elegant cane. Sadly, it wasn’t just for show. In a war he never talked about, some stray shrapnel had got him, and ever since then he had walked with a permanent limp.

The antique store was much like all the others he had visited. He took a deep breath. That dusty, quiet smell spoke of volumes of lost history. Thomas had always liked it. Instead of going for the furniture or flowery vases, he went straight for the counter where an overweight balding man was watching him.

Thomas fixed the man with his gaze. “I am looking for rather … special items. Figurines, ballerinas preferably, but they must be ...” Wording this had always felt difficult to him, people didn’t always understand. “... unusual. You see, I collect ballerinas that aren’t ... of the common, pretty variety.”

The man looked at him quizzical eyes. “I don’t quite follow ...”

Thomas’s eyes shifted around the store for a moment, before he dropped his voice, and said, “I suppose you’d call them ... ugly. Ugly ballerina figurines. That's what I collect.”

The man’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh. Well, you’re in luck.” He bent down and picked something up from beneath the counter, and put on the table in front of Thomas. “It’s exquisite in every detail.”

Bending down, Thomas inspected the small figurine. He traced the outlines of it, without actually touching. The man was right. The details were exquisite. In fact, he’d go so far as to say he had never seen anything like it before. The proportions were excellent, and the well-worked pose depicted the fat ballerina in action as she landed just after a leap. The face was especially hideous. Jutting teeth and zit-covered. Perfect. He stood up, and smiled at the man behind the counter. “Who’s the artist?”

The man looked slightly uncomfortable as he scratched the bald patch on his head. “Well ... there are no initials, so I’m not sure.” He hastened to add, “But it’s not mass produced, that I’m certain of.”

“Of course it isn’t.” Thomas sounded utterly sure of himself, and he was. “I’ll take it anyway. How much?” The two of them haggled for a bit, then settled on a price. Slightly more than Thomas would have liked, considering it was made by an unknown, but he really wanted it and the man sensed that.

After he had paid, the man leaned closer to him and his voice lowered. “I probably shouldn’t be saying this but ... this figurine. It’s been ... returned a few times. And the customers ... they either told me it was haunted, or they just got this weird look in the eye and hurried out of the store like there was some big secret they knew but couldn’t tell.”

“I think I’ll manage.” Thomas put the figurine down into a padded bag he had brought especially for this purpose.

“Just ... felt like I should tell you.”

“Thank you. But rest assured, I won’t be returning it.”

The man just nodded, and Thomas exited the store. He got into his black car and drove on home. After parking the car, he walked into the old house he had inherited from his parents. He took off his coat and hat, and put the figurine up on a shelf, where it stood in the good company of other similar ones. Then Thomas went to cook dinner.

For the next month or so, every time Thomas woke up, that figurine would be in a different place. Sometimes sitting under the shelf, sometimes on a sofa, a few times up on a table. Another man would have returned it, or destroyed it, or at least been disconcerted. But not Thomas, he quite liked the idea of a friendly ghost. Made his existence seem a bit less lonely.

After this month, Thomas, on a whim, finally decided to take his secretary’s – Matilda, a nice eighty-seven year old woman – to buy a dog. What he picked was a beautiful Golden Retriever. A bit older than a puppy, but trained. He brought the dog home and everything went well for the rest of the day.

Then the night came. The Retriever had been sleeping quite peacefully in a bed made for him, when he heard a sound downstairs. So he got up, and went to check it out. When he saw what had made it, all that entered the dog’s brain was that it was another one of those human things that fed him and played with him if he was nice. He hadn’t actually seen the figurines on the shelves yet. And even if he had, he wouldn’t have understood that the woman that stood before him looked exactly the same as the figurine his owner had bought just a month ago.

So instead the dog decided to get one of the toys that his owner had bought – a squeaky toy bone – and bring it to the ballerina’s feet. The ballerina looked at the dog for a while. Then she bent down and threw the toy. Usually, all she did with her time out of her figurine prison was lament on her fate, but resisting those big brown eyes was beyond her.

This was her fate: Once upon a time she had been the most beautiful and accomplished ballerina in the world. Her biggest rival was also beautiful and accomplished, but lesser in both respects. Her rival did have one thing going for her, and that was a powerful witch for a mother. Just before the last stage of a world-wide competition, Arabelle – for that was her name – was trapped in a magical figurine prison.

She was only allowed out for one hour every day, beginning at the stroke of three at night. The only way the curse would be ended was if a man looked at her, and truly, deep in his heart, thought she was beautiful. Arabelle felt that in a way this was more cruel than leaving her no way out. Hope was a terrible thing, when it kept shattering, again and again. Before she had endeavored to let men see her. Now, with no success, she had given up trying at all.

Her time tonight was almost up. With that thought distracting her, she threw the toy bone at the wrong angle and it flew straight into the ballerinas so carefully arranged on a shelf. It scattered them like a bowling ball and sent them flying down to the floor where they shattered with appropriate noise. The dog began barking. Arabelle tried quieting it, but it wouldn’t work.

In all the ruckus, Thomas awoke and hurried downstairs as fast as his limp would allow. And as he did, he couldn’t help but lay eyes on the overweight, and to most people, ugly, ballerina. But Thomas was not most people. What he saw was true beauty. And in that moment, the spell was lifted. Where the ugly ballerina had once stood, there was now a stunning young woman in a ballerina dress.

The woman beamed at the dumbfounded Thomas. “Thank you. Thank you, so much.” She kissed him once on the cheek, then she ran to the front door, opened it and left the house. Thomas and the dog both watched her run after the street. They looked at each other. Then Thomas quietly limped to the door and closed it.

He never saw the young woman again.