Puppetry - P.JM. [ON-HOLD]

Prologue

I worked on the project, my hands flying around the model with precise movements. My father had taught me to always be quick and exact with what I needed to do; it was almost like being a surgeon, but less blood. I didn't like the human body that much, anyways. I always thought of it as a squishy, slow machine. It was always stupid. Humans were stupid.

"Finished," I stated, pulling my hands away from the mechanism I had been working on. A large smile consumed my face, being proud of my creation.

In front of me was a small doll, a little girl about eight seams long. She almost reached my elbow if I held her at the center of my palm down my arm. Anyways, my arm was small at the moment, still an eleven year old girl's arm. Nothing special.

The doll had no eyes, no nose. It just had a mouth that looked too realistic. Yarn I had gathered around the workshop had been woven into her realistic skin onto her cranium. It was a dark blue color, like one of those richer people that lived closer to the heart of town. Her small lips were painted a purple to contrast her hair. She had a peachy skin color, little freckles around her body. A dress I had made for a doll hung off her, frills on the bottom of the skirt, along the sleeve lines, and neck line white to go with the purple stain.

If I had reached into her small mouth, I could flip a switch just at her cheek. She would spring to life, herself a robot. She would talk and keep someone company, such as me. Her mouth could smile, showing small teeth I had made out of wood, polished, and painted white to show perfect dentures. Her voice was the sound of a young girl, almost like a younger sister. I found it comforting.

A man came over to the work bench I was at, sliding a stool up and sitting down on it. I looked up at him to find him smiling brightly at me. I smiled back, my small legs swinging back and forth as I sat on my own stool, my legs too small to reach the floor. My hands fiddled with the doll's hair, running my fingers through the thick, blue yarn.

"That's beautiful," my father breathed, reaching over and taking the doll into hand. I watched as he pulled his arm back to him, his eyes examining over the such realistic doll. "You did a wonderful job on it, and just in two days!"

A spark of pride came over me. With the now empty hand, I tapped my fingers against the wooden table, keeping them busy. "Can you sell it to the shop?"

His eyes looked over the item, seeming to now run his conscious over the question. "You did follow the rules of the 1.4 Doll Trade. It could easily be put up for at least 35 silvers, maybe even 50 silvers. And the wonderful condition it is in, it could last for more than a year. Perfect for any little girl to have."

"Do you think an affluent will take it?"

My father's head poked up, his eyebrows raising. "Quite possibly. It depends on how much silvers is being put up for your prize."

I gave a small nod, still smiling. If there was always a possibility for my work to be put up for affluents to take, then I was happy. Affluents were the top dogs in society, and if my work could be bought by one, I knew my skill was worthy.

My father placed the doll down on the workbench, going a bit serious, his smile falling. My smile also fell, myself feeling as if there was a lesson or something to come out from what he had to say.

"Y/N, you have an amazing talent for this," he said, a small sparkle in his eyes as he said that, his serious not a mean sort. "You see me work with puppets all the time. I know you love to see how they work. I'll enroll you into school in a couple years to start your education of being a puppet mechanic or specialist. Either of your choice will be fine. Your work is going to be appreciated in society. I just know it."

I gave an eager nod. "I wanna go to school for this. Please put me in that school. I want to go."

My father laughed at my words. "Don't worry," he said with his bright smile that would always be pressed into my memory forever. "You'll go to that school."