The One Beneath

Upon a dusty shelf a thread worn doll sits forgotten with the cobwebs, the ceiling leaking aiding the doll in her sorrow.  The black buttons have sagged and dropped, the water stains saved along her cheeks.  The little doll wept within her stiched body, sound lost to the maker of sin.  The years passed before the jaded dolls eyes, when finally a man came looking for a prize.  The man was charming and off beat, asking for a treat that was very unique.  The maker smiled sweetly and paraded the teddy bears and tin soldiers in a row before the man, his face turned dark with frustration. Did the toy maker not know that this man was not of the normal stock and would have nothing he could see just walking down the block?.  He turned to go, his hand clenched round the knob, when the solitary doll tumbled to the floor.  He stopped and stooped, picking her up. With a careful hand he patted down her misbegotten dress, smoothed her yarn hair.  His prize held tenderly he paid the maker with 30 pieces of silver, the price well worth it.  A decade flew bye, the dolly grew happy if not fufilled, she was taken out and played with well.  Thru the years she learned to smile, her tangled yarn head didn't care that she wasn't alive.  Then the man had to go away, he set the doll up in a two story house, even gave her a friend he named minny mouse.  Hugging the devoted doll he said be back soon, with that he left and the doll didnt know what to do.  The man had hugged her to tight, snagging one lone thread, the further he went the longer the tear and soon she was holding herself to keep from turning inside out.  The mans smile sparkled in the dim corners of the dolls mind, though her seams continued to split. Her buttons gleamed in the night as she wept to the paper made mouse.  Finally the doll woke to a numbness, two stories past pain. Her button eyes round she looked down and saw her body to her left and her right, no unity in sight.  For the first time in all her years the doll wished she could close her eyes, so afraid was she to see the void beneath her tattered rag skin.  Holding her hope, she reached inside, with a start she felt velvet skin. Terrifyed what this could mean she scooted back and leaned down, inside the shadows of her cloth body she saw pale skin, sooty lashes against pink cheeks.  She looked in awe at golden hued hair framing the sleeping girls face.  An explosian of feeling robbed the doll of her fear and with a great tug she ripped the remaining scraps of her dolly life away.  Time tells its tale with rolling days and stolen moments.  The man returns, his heart light as he searches for the doll he left behind.  He enters the dolls room, her doll house left in ruin.  His eyes wide he frets for his pet, turning quickly he collides with the girl.  He stops and studies her, feeling he knows her.  She smiles softly and lifts his hand, pressing something filmy into the shell of his grip.  Holding his hands closed around the gift she kisses his cheek and slips out of the front door.  The man stands with a look of bemused confusion, opening his hand he looks down at all that remains of the doll he so loved.  Truth drowning his joy, he sinks into a chair, all his thoughts on one question. How did she know?  The girl smiles, her lips warm as she learns to live.