From the darkened kitchen, an aproned figure peers hopefully out at them. Everything was just right: the dinner, the vintage, the ambiance were exactly as directed. Does that mean she's going to do it? Is tonight going to be the night I get a sister?
The fire is banked and crackling. Its light outlines two figures, glasses in hand, in the final throes of
companionable conversation, when both parties drift into longer and longer silences.
The semantics of Twitter circles are fun. Posted publicly, this is just a funny joke; posted to a circle it has a confessional feel.
This was supposed to be 6, and I'm supposed to be able to edit tweets but I guess not yet!
If it is to be a war-doll, tell it it was an atoning sinner, a condemned criminal or a useless drunkard scooped up off the streets. Any lie will do as long as it creates the right sense of self and of the world for its purpose.
When a newborn doll asks, inevitably, "what kind of person was I?" It's important to tell the right kind of lie. If it is to be shaped for domestic service, tell it it was a good person who fell on hard times or a child who was sold by destitute parents.
Part of me knows that this isn't right, that she's poking holes through smooth muscle that could never heal, wounds that should be slowly painfully, mortal. It's exactly that part of me that I came here to excise.
The witch's needle slides in, deeper than anything has ever gone. Deeper than anything was ever meant to go. It feels good, then bad, then good again, like losing a baby tooth but in reverse, somehow.
I don't regret what I did. He'll heal, and even get back full range of motion if he does all the physical therapy exercises. My treasure will always bear the jagged marks of his careless shove, however carefully I align and glue her.
People and dolls break differently. The latter a quiet, priceless sound followed by "sorry, miss," the former, a nauseating, wet-sounding crack with an instant screaming response.
"Everyone hates me, I hate everyone! Everybody hates me, I eat everybody!"
-marching chant among the Rotten Dolls of the Bilious Witch