a Doll sitting by the water, watching as people swim and snorkel in the small bay. there's maybe three dozen or so, paddling about. from up here, on the jetty, This One can see a few turtles. the Doll had been taught how to tell the species apart, and these ones seem to be Hawksbill Sea Turtles. the way they fly though the water is mesmerising.
a little further out, through the crystal clear water, the swift moving shape of a Blacktip Reef Shark cuts through schools of fish and schools of people alike. it's not likely to harm anyone, but the humans give it a wide berth all the same. a beautiful sight, truly. a rock below the Doll's perch shifts, swimming off? oh! a Wobbegong!
the Doll will be thinking about this place for the rest of its life, and this was the least magical moment here. this was the Doll sitting out because it had a migraine. this was the low point of the trip.
a song without beginning, a song without end. the Dolls sits at a piano, its foot holding the pedal down. a wash of sound swirls around it, dying on the soundproofed walls. the Doll's been playing this song for an hour so far, this time, and will play for another hour or more.
it's an old song, one the Doll has been playing for many years. the Doll doesn't know which notes come next, it just plays and the notes find their way into a position under its fingers.
someday the Doll might find other ways to explore this song, with spirals and dice and random chance, but for now it simply plays as the notes command it to. a song without beginning, a song without end.
a little Doll at the museum! the museum has animatronic dinosaurs, and the Doll loves dinosaurs! they've got a T. rex, and a Brontosaurus, and a Triceratops, and a Stegosaurus! the Doll loves all of those dinosaurs!
oh... oh no... they're so big, and so loud! the Doll is terrified. it cries and it shakes. even the Stegosaurus is too scary for the Doll... so the Doll's adult takes it and hides with it in a time machine ride. the Doll learns all kinds of things about all of the dinosaurs.
together, they sneak out the other side and make their way up the spiral ramp of the museum. the Doll looks down on the dinosaurs from way up high. they're kinda cute from up here, far from the noise.
the Angel watches the Doll as it shuffles its cards. he shakes his head. “how did we get here? he had such a promising future...”
“she.“
“hu- oh. you.”
“she.” the Demon shoots the Angel a look that would slay a mortal. the Angel merely rolls his eyes.
“sure, fine, 'she' would never have dreamt of engaging in witchcraft before you came along.”
“yes, well...” the Demon flexes her hand, admiring her talons. “you didn't protect her from the world. you, and the others, she trusted you, but you weren't there when she shattered.”
the Angel scoffs
“that's not our role.”
“uh huh. and now she's mine.”
the Doll shuts down its computer and heads to bed... but something catches its eye on the way. it's already past midnight, the date has ticked over, and a calendar notification has popped up.
a birthday, an old friend's birthday. it's always bittersweet for the Doll, remembering the People and the Witches that once filled its life. this one... this one was special, one of the greatest single impactors on the Doll's life.
and today marked the twelfth anniversary of one such impact: twelve years ago, the Doll threw out all of its razors. it wasn't the last time, but it was the first. it wanted to heal, and heal permanently. no more gold needed to set the pieces back together, no more scars... one of the most hopeful moments in the Doll's life.
the Doll says the silent prayer it often finds itself saying, begging any entity that might be listening to watch over that person. the Doll asks this for many people, but this specific person the most.
with a sigh, the Doll lets the prayer go. no one listened before, why would they listen now? oh well.
good luck, old friend.
a Doll playing games! this one is about a tiny creature on a big journey. a lot of stories are like that: a small being on a grand adventure, overcoming treacherous terrain, crafty critters, and fearsome foes. they'll have some lofty goal, a quest to complete, and a place to reach.
this time, the story is of tiny creature on a big journey, but the journey really is just... life. its goals are to find a place to sit and admire the scenery, to make some friends, and to protect itself from the local wildlife. the biggest part of the journey was convincing some deer to let it pass. a simple set of goals.
why then is the Doll so frustrated by this game? why is the tiny creature so frail? so small and defenceless? why are all the things that are chasing it so big and relentless? and why does the creature only die when its careless or overconfident? ... but then it comes back and tries again and again and again... and it overcomes obstacles and goes further than it did last time and
wait a minute, is this a metaphor?
no, it's simply a little world with a little creature who is trying its best.
the Doll's first memory is of falling on the concrete driveway and scraping its knee. the first thing it remembers is the pain from the fall, followed by the sting of the antiseptic. one might wonder what kind of a person could be built from such a foundation.
sometimes the most painful thing is a bare space, an empty room. this place needs some colour, so the Doll learns to carefully fold paper into flowers. making slow, careful creases, the Doll works ceaselessly.
hours, days, months... seasons come and go, flowers bloom and die, the rains and the fires and the floods and the sun all have their time. despite years of work, tending to its paper garden, the Doll keeps folding, a desperate need to curate its surroundings sustaining it through the decades, to fill the space around it with colour, to will life to grow in the cracks of its cold, porcelain skin.
and so it produces art in an endless quest to make a sound louder than its own voice.
a Doll at a party, a party with lots of people and Witches and Dolls. the Kind Witch from the quiet place is hosting, and is looking after This One, but This One is looking for trouble. it sneaks off into a back corner, to make new friends with the kind of people who love to see pretty things break, and it opens its cracks for their amusement. it smiles as they jeer and laugh, and it stays quiet when they play their games.
a little Doll, some time ago, with fewer cracks and scrapes, though the ones it has aren't fixed quite so well. yes, a little Doll, making friends at a party, some place it wasn't supposed to be. new friends who love to see pretty things break. the start of a loop that yet remains unbroken.
the party ends, and the Doll thanks the Witch. it had fun, and it hopes she did too.
charred steel and mangled wires atop a pile of burnt wood. the music has stopped now.