The Mage's Young Doll

As I looked down at myself, I knew I wasn't the same. My form was bulbous, and the beads could hardly hold me down since they were so scarce. I felt extremely uncomfortable, and my body tore apart.

My skin was visible, and I feared it. It reminded me of a past of labor, though I couldn't remember anything before the forest. I didn't want to associate myself with the humans in the picture books I saw, as Grandfather told me I'm not one. I'm a doll. In my arrogance, I thought I'm a superior and important being, as I was spoiled and treated as such.

The patches that fell apart terrified me, as I loved them as a human would fondly care for their skin. I never wanted to see my stuffing, so I greatly hoped my skin would hold, no matter how much I despised it.

I didn't bother bringing it up to Grandfather until I felt I couldn't move on. His eyes weren't in the best working condition, so I doubt he even noticed my stitches were coming lose until I told.

I sat on a wooden chair, and it was old and deteriorating. Grandfather was sitting beside me on a red-cushioned chair with faded fabric. The red was more of a dark pink from its wear. We were in the living room; which was one of my favorite places.

The floors and walls were both wood, and I could smell its rot. Wisps were lighting the room, as Grandfather created them to do so. I liked looking at the swaying fires of yellow and orange, but I did fear them with the knowledge I could easily catch fire. Chairs were scattered around the room in a horrible organization, but it was homey. A fireplace was by the chairs we sat in, but it was never lit.

I hated one thing in the room. More than hate, however. It was a massive envy that I tightly held onto, no matter how ridiculous. Paintings were on the walls, and another child was within them. We shared the same hair and eyes. Well, I originally had the same blue orbs. Smiles shot me down from where I sat, coming from both the child and Grandfather in the paintings. I was never told who this child is, but it was a huge weight on my back. The only thing that kept me from utter jealousy was the fact I'm a doll, as Grandfather seemed to love me as one.

While I sat on my chair, Grandfather pulled out a book and cleared his throat. I decided I'd tell him about my weight problem after since I loved hearing stories. His voice was mellow.

"Plush, this is a story from my childhood. I hope you enjoy it, as it was my favorite," he told me, smiling faintly.

I glanced at the cover, unable to read the title. But I could tell what the drawing on the front was of. It appeared to be a doll, and a childlike one similar to me.

"What's the name? It has an M in it," I asked, mentioning the M since I was starting to recognize some letters. I knew M and Z, and occasionally I'd remember one of the others.

"The Mage's Young Doll."

"You're a mage," I remarked, remembering that's what he called himself. He grinned.

"Yes. This book sparked my interest in magic altogether."

I mentally nodded, smiling inside my head. Grandfather coughed a bit from the dust that covered the book. After, he opened up to the first page. It was a simplistic picture book meant for children, images on every page. The first showed a lonely old man sitting in a chair.

"In silence, a mage sat. While he looked out the window, he puzzled how to end his solitude."

"What's soli... solitude mean?" I interrupted, and he smiled.

"His loneliness. Having no one else," Grandfather explained, and I acknowledged it. He flipped to the next page, and I saw a thought bubble coming out of the elder's head with an image of a child within. "The mage wanted someone to take care of, and a child was the first thing that came to mind. But he knew the child would eventually grow up, and he didn't wish for that to occur. He puzzled how to make an eternally young child to love."