The woman adjusted the doll's dress. A lovely silk of sky blue. She patted the lace down and added her own fluff. She loved her dolls. She had hundreds. Thousands even. Yet the quantity didn't diminish the pure love she had for each and every one of them. She had given each one a name and a story. Each one had personality.
Miranda wore a pale yellow dress with golden hair resting in braids on her shoulder. She was from the south and enjoyed baking pies.
Betty had a lovely crimson dress with a rose in her brown hair to match. She was an orphan who found her calling to become a gardener.
Celine wore a dress of lime. Her copper ringlets fell down her back. She wore a cute summer hat. She was scared of the dark. Therefore, there was always a nightlight on in the room. The other dolls didn't mind. They were all one big family, after all.
The woman smiled at Lacy. Her name fit her perfectly with all the lace of her dress. Oh, how precious. The woman scooped her up into her arms, much like she held an actual toddler. She gave the doll a gentle hug and began to sing to her. She swayed and sang, all the while, ever so gently rocking Lacy in her arms.
"Mommy." A soft voice came from behind the woman. She stopped singing and turned to see who had called her.
Penelope.
"I don't feel so good, Mommy." Penelope's voice was soft and sad. She frowned and played with her fingers nervously.
"Oh, my sweet baby." Worried, the woman immediately sat Lacy down gently on the bed and scooped up Penelope. She knew Penelope couldn't be faking. It was written all over her poor little face. She was so pale. Her skin looked paper thin. Her eyes had lost their light. She seemed to be withering away.
"Shh," the woman cooed, "Mommy is here. I will make it all better." She gave Penelope a hug and a soft kiss on the cheek. "Mommy will fix it." And she intended to.
The woman was used to this. Her babies seemed to get sick so often. That's how it was with children, wasn't it? One would get sick, and then it spread like wildfire to the rest of the children. It couldn't be helped. They didn't know any better. They would run to Mommy when things got bad. And she was always ready to kiss and hug them all better.
"Let's get you to bed." The woman placed Penelope down on the mattress and took off her shoes. "You just need some sleep. Then you will be all better." She needed Penelope to sleep so she could begin her work. She didn't want her babies to be awake for their cleansing. It was a lengthy and messy process.
The woman ran her fingers through Penelope's black locks and softly sang a song to her. Every line or so, she would shush and hum some. Her angels always looked so peaceful while sleeping. While it filled her heart with such joy to see them at peace, it likewise hurt her to see her babies in any kind of pain.
Soon enough, Penelope was snoozing. The woman paused for a moment to take in the peace and serenity. She couldn't help it. Even when her babies were sick, they were still so precious in her eyes.
The woman caressed Penelope's face, just for a flap of skin to detach from her skull. The woman frowned. Penelope was worse off than she thought. Her poor little one. The wax could only do so much to preserve them. Sometimes it held. Sometimes, they seemed to disintegrate right in her hands.
How to fix Penelope?
She decided sewing may help. She molded the dry skin back over the skull. She frowned again as the skin cracked and flaked off. Unfortunately, the flesh had become too brittle. Her little Penelope was gone. At least she went peacefully in her sleep.
The woman picked her up again in her arms, cradling her. She hummed a tune while she mourned over this loss. She had to keep a brave face for the other babies. She couldn't let them see her cry. She was meant to protect them all. But the one thing she couldn't protect them from was time. She could only be their mother for so long before they ultimately decayed.
