I live upon a shelf for 5 years now. My master never came back from his trip he went. He said he would. Did he lie? Why can't I move? How come I can't feel pain? But I still feel this loner feeling.
"M-m-mas-" my lips feel as if they were glued shut. Please, let me be alive...
Days, weeks, months, later. I have sat on this old, wooden shelf, colecting dust. I saw many things. I asked myself what they could be. Yet, I will never find the answer. Suddenly, in this old looking, probably not so safe house, I saw a small puppy. The small dog went crazy. It bumped into the shelf, and *bam* I fell to the floor, opening my back. A small little papper flapped in front of my wooden, fake, pale face. My violet eyes read from word to word.
"Dear Lalluby,
My doll. I am your master. If you are reading this, I wan't you to know that I have passed on. My grandson will be your next master. Go find him, and do what he desire's. You can't move. When it is midnight, you must eat, do, or wear something from the living. Even if a strand of hair lays on your gentle face. That's all you need to do to become alive.
From B??????
P.S. Be safe, meh doll.
