Write a poem or short story from the viewpoint of someone living in a dollhouse.

TRAPPED!

They told me to never date a warlock but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. People who practice magic aren't all bad. He was sweet, quiet and a great listener you know? It didn't get bad until two months after the first date. After our first real fight, I tried to leave and he locked the doors with a spell until he had finished yelling at me.

That should've been my first clue.

But nope, I chalked it up to couples fighting and we worked through it. I told him to never use his powers on me again, unless I asked him to. He listened and agreed.

Until our second fight...

His fury shatter every window in my tiny apartment, covering all of my belongings in glass. That was when I knew I had to end it. He tried to apologize multiple times but with my friends' support I stayed firm and cut him out of my life. I told him to move on because I am done with him.

A week later, he showed up at my job with flowers, asking to talk. Against my better judgement, I went to his car to speak with him for a few minutes. Stupid, rookie mistake.

That was the last thing I remember before I woke up in this house.

Correction...DOLLHOUSE.

Yep, this warlock son of a bitch SHRUNK ME DOWN AND PUT ME IN A DOLLHOUSE.

I don't know how long I've been in here but it's been three days since I woke up. The first day he apologized profusely but said he couldn't let me go...ever. Brought little meals (which were kind of adorable, I can't lie) for me and tried to keep me entertained with this fully functional dollhouse.

Enough is enough. I am getting the hell out of this thing, one way or the other.

“Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.”