The Dollmaker's Creation

Static

"Ssssccccrrr!"
White noise, static, fills the air. Signal has been lost. He blinks awake. Grooves in the wood cradling his tiny body. He lifts his heavy head. His body follows suit and soon he finds himself on a large wooden table. A chair sits to his right. A TV plays static to his left. The floor seems miles away and the boy estimates it to be at least 50 miles up in the air. Everything is giant in relation to the doll-sized child. He does not recognize these surroundings, but his new surroundings do not make him afraid. He is a brave boy.

The lad walks to the TV. The television brings him comfort but he doesn't like the static. He stares intently into the static and watches the particles as they dance. "Ssscccrrr!" The TV is insistent. The scamp jumps for a low knob on the boob tube and the channel flips. "More on that la.... Ssscccrrr!" For a second, a channel appears with promise of news. He feels discouraged by the lack of signal but, instead he opts to turn the television off by jumping for another knob. The old screen's tubes groan and blink off. The room begins to fill with the sound of howling wind. He dismisses the wind, the wailing sound did not frighten him. He turns to his left and sees a record player.

The record player is similarly old like the telly. They both boast dusty brown exteriors and well loved interfaces. The record player's megaphone glints a copperish tone. The youngster moves to investigate the record player closely. Suddenly, a thunderous crash echoes through the room causing him to hide near the old player. A giant enters the room carrying a well cared for vinyl. He does not remember ever seeing a giant before now. He is undaunted by the massive giant and watches to wait for an opportunity to strike. The enormous man pops in the record with a flourish. Lowering the arm of the megaphone, the titan smiles with the melody. An old country tune plays and the behemoth dances to the western hymn. The colossus dances into an obscured corner out of the boy's sight. Disappointment washes over him as the music plays just loudly enough to over power the roaring wind.

A loud noise pierces the room. The delicate but sharp tones note the breaking of glass. The boy runs tensely over to the television. He checks the delicate round front of the facade for any cracks. He cares about the TV, it is like him, it brought him comfort in his short time here. However, instead of seeing cracks in the large TV, he see cracks in his reflection. His head feels off and he tilts as he watches the crack spread across his face. His large monitor head feels much heavier than he is used to.

The boy watches his familiar face change into something unrecognizable. His whole life spent with this head and now it is cracked. "What's that racket in my HEAD? Get out of my head!" The shattered screen says as he desperately claws at his rectangular head. He is hysterical. Blood oozes from the cracks. It drips onto the white smock that the boy had woken in. The blood bends and forms a word, "me". It arcs again and writes the same message again and again. It is no longer a white frock but instead a current of interconnecting, red messages that all read "me". He is himself as he has always been, "me". "Me" is who he wants to be. The arcing word repeating worries and tortures him. "Why me? I am me, please don't take that away! I don't want to be someone else." The child crys begging to the heavens.

The fresh blood pulls itself front and center on his smock. He pulls at it trying to remove it but the blood holds the smock in place. "Mine" is the new message. This is not what he wanted. If the boy could cry, tears would stream down his face. He hits his head and static appears as he tries to be "me" again. The blood falls out of formation a little but quickly returns to its usual broadcast. He is someone else now, "mine". He is not himself but someone else's and that crushes him. His fuzzy picture of self is painful. The boy readjusts the long metal ears on his head and finds a new signal. He accepts the new role and forgets the pain of an old channel. He is "mine" now and he can no longer be anyone else, but why would he want to for he has always been "mine". Everything is clear to him now.

The large TV blinks to life and begins to play the news. A young boy is missing. The young boy had been taken while playing in his yard. The TV-headed boy recalls vaguely something like this. The past is blurry as if it were a dream or someone else's memory. The TV blinks off again and the boy sees his reflection. He sees a perfect head with no cracks or dents, just a worn, old head. It is just as it has always been. He decides he must leave this place. While this place is all he has ever known, someone is waiting for him so he must leave. He is someone's, they miss him.

He moves to the edge of the vast table. He hesitates to jump for a moment. He has always been scared easily. He finds the height to be a great source of fear but he jumps and just barely makes it to the arm of the chair. He sits to catch his breath while trying not to panic. He could have broken his head if he missed this arm. He struggles his whole way down to the floor. He feels mounting anxiety after the whole ordeal of making his way down to the floor.

He scrambles to a large door. The wooden door's handle is so high up that the boy has no way of reaching it. He looks to his right and sees a wedge. He pushes the wedge to the door. He turns to his left and sees the door hinges. The boy begins to pound on the closest hinge. It pops out of place with surprising ease. He then pushes the wedge under the door and it lifts the door enough for himself to slip under. Before he slips under he takes one last look at the familiar surroundings and comforting TV. Then he makes his way under the door being mindful of his monitor. Bright light blinds him. He blinks to see a desert. He doesn't like the desert; a shiver dances down his spine as he peers across the vastness. The desert means sand can get in his head, and then he might stop working. Turning back he sees a shiny silver shack. He thinks about going back inside but worries that going back in will make him trapped with whatever lives inside. He is terrified of either option really. He decides to try to head "home", wherever that might be. The boy hopes that home isn't a dusty old shack.

The wind begins to howl once again. It kicks up sand that blows at the boy. He quickly moves his hands to try and cover some of his large head. He does not know how to get sand out of his head and it worries him. He finds the metal shack to be sitting on a steep cliff. This cliff overlooks more desert. He whimpers and makes his way off into the desert behind the shack. He doesn't look back. He thinks of returning to a place where he could find someone named "Momma". He cannot hear a truck pulling in behind him over the howling wind as he makes his way deeper into the desert. He fades into the horizon, only to be consumed by the parched desert.

A package arrives at the giant's doorstep. The label reads "For the doll maker." Opening the gift, the giant sees a boy and girl nestled in the box. A smile creeps onto the man's face as he brings them in to work on.