Short Stories

The Borrower

There once was a doll who borrowed things. Usually it was fairly innocuous, things that wouldn't be missed. Clothes that didn't fit other dolls. Tiny pieces of jewelry that were prone to going missing. Small printed publications. The doll built a home for himself, surrounded by his forgotten treasures. And for a while, he was happy.

As time went on, the doll found himself showing signs of his age. He became scratched, his elastic growing loose, dust settling in his hair, skin yellowing as resin is wont to do. He was grateful that he didn't age like humans, who grew up, grew old, and passed away, but found his unique brand of aging disturbing nonetheless. The humans who tended to his appearance grew old and died, leaving him with a chipped, careworn faceup. He knew he needed to figure out a solution, so late at night, he began searching the ancient, sprawling manor house that was his guilded cage.

The original builder had been an alchemist of great skill. He had originally made the doll for his daughter, who had been dead for hundreds of years. A thorough scouring of the house turned up the alchemist's notebooks in the basement. The doll knew the spell that made him sentient was contained in those books, so why not a simple age reversal spell?

After months of hiding in the shadows, pouring over the alchemist's library, the doll found what he was looking for. He could restore his youth for the cost of one human soul.

He wrestled with the moral dilemma; these were good people who cared for him and kept him in pride of place, despite his age and obvious wear. After much agonizing on the matter, he stumbled upon a loophole.

He didn't need to take the soul all at once, or the whole soul from a single person. In a pinch, the time someone had remaining could stand in for little pieces of soul.

He would take a year or two here when someone contracted a serious illness, a piece there when one of the family did something risky. Certain times in history were easier than others, but he was able to turn back time and renew himself.

(continued)

He didn't notice at first, but without all of their soul intact, the members of the family grew callous and unsentimental, doing things that hurt others without a second thought, until they died, prematurely.

The last generation of the family he knew decided to completely renovate the manor, talking every historic item out of it and selling the objects they deemed worthwhile, tossing the rest. The doll found himself, dirty, scratched and regretful, at a dump.

A kindly scavenger pulled him out of the rubble, cleaned him up and repaired him, then gifted him to a child. He sits to this day on the blind girl's mantle, waiting for the time it will be necessary to take her soul.