The Dolls Could Talk

The end came suddenly, but the torment was lasting.

We didn’t know why we were here. Why any of us were here.

Many of us came and went. We watched thousands of us being born under harsh lights and with the loud sounds of machinery. We were manhandled… sometimes with hard fingers, sometimes with soft. We were painted and glued. Sometimes, pieces of us came and were given to us. Many of us disappeared, never to be seen again. We heard they went to somewhere good, somewhere nice.

I don’t know which of us started that rumor.

The stench of our births was heavy around us.

There was a strange one on a shelf on the wall. He was one of us, but he wasn’t. He sneered at us around his pipe. “There is no good place, “ he snarled. “No good place at all.”

Some of us listened. Some didn’t. Nothing changed. Some of us were born, some of us went away. It didn’t matter what we thought or what we knew. Or didn’t know. There was a lot we didn’t know.

Some of us… we were rejected.

I was rejected.

We were taken away. This wasn’t a good place. I watched as we were rent limb from limb. Some of it went back to where we came from. I hadn’t thought about it before, but then I wondered how many of us I had been, before.

I was taken away again. I was left in a pile. I guessed I wouldn’t be any of us again.

And I waited.

Nightmare Fuel 2019, Day 13 and Day 15

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