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deadfrog-and-friends · 1 month ago

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doll apologist part 2

(part 1 here)

the one who came for the broken doll was a crone, terrifying next to the doll's beautiful young mistress. "i'm sorry," its witch said. "i can't get it to stop crying."

"it's no problem," the crone said, their voice deep and raspy. they turned to the doll. "well, doll, time to go. granny needs help with their sewing."

"i'm sorry," the witch said again, "but i don't think it can be much help. it's broken, after all."

"i'm sure i'll find some use for it," the crone said, and they brought the doll home with them. all the doll knew was that it had failed its witch, and was now being sent to live with a stranger, as punishment.

the crone settled the still weeping doll on the sofa with a blanket and a cup of tea. they sat on a rocking chair nearby, embroidering faces on to small, rough hand sewn dolls of fabric. the doll's eyes were too full of tears to notice this, at first. but when it caught something strange moving in the corner of its eye, its tears slowed and stopped for a moment. it wiped its eyes and looked around. there were strange little cloth dolls everywhere. one with eight legs looked down at it from the ceiling. another one, with five red eyes embroidered on its face, had climbed up onto the couch and was snuggling its leg. still others were hidden in various nooks and crannies around the room. noticing the crying stop, the crone bade the doll to have some tea.

the doll sipped, but a sob caught in its throat again, and it spit the tea out on its lap.

"i'm s..." it managed to get out, before it was overcome again.

"it's quite all right," the crone said, returning to their sewing. "please do finish your tea, when you are ready."

a few moments later, it had mastered its own breathing enough to finish the tea. "th-thank you. it's good." it said. "--" it began to weep very softly.

"you're welcome," said the crone. "now, granny has a task for you, whenever you are ready to attempt it." they brought out a basket of yarn of all different colors, mixed together and tangled. "my little ones got into the yarn again. i need these all separated out and wound into balls. your articulated fingers look up to the task."

the weeping doll looked at the basket through its film of tears. it almost seemed like the yarn was writhing. "--"

"you can wait to start until you are done crying, or you can get started whilst crying. i don't really care," said the crone. they got up to prepare another pot of tea.

the tea was good.

with many breaks to turn away and weep, the doll began its task. it was nice, having a task. its former mistress--it wept, thinking of her--had not given it a task in a while. only impossible tasks like stop crying, don't be like this, tell me what's wrong. what was wrong was that it was not a good doll. mistress wanted it to be proud, not sorry, but it wasn't proud. it couldn't be proud. what was there to be proud of? constant insufficiency? it could never be enough, and that was why it had been discarded, banished to this strange house with its scary old matron and its population of unsettling little dolls skittering all over. and they were always making more. to what end? the doll wondered.

at the end of every day, the crone picked the doll up from the couch and gently carried it up to their bedroom, where it placed it on a smaller bed next to theirs. at the start of every day, the crone woke up and brought the doll with them downstairs, to sit by them as they did their work, so the doll was never alone, except when the crone went out. then the little ones would come out and climb all around it and all over it, playing and having fun. the doll did not exactly find it fun, but it wasn't unpleasant either. it was a distraction.

as the months went on, it found it was less and less inclined to think of its old mistress and cry. it was nice that it could cry and cry here without making anyone upset, but it didn't need to cry as much. this was helpful because it meant that it could pay attention to more complex instructions, and take on more interesting tasks. the crone had begun teaching it to knit so it could make tiny socks for the little ones. winter was coming on, and some of them had so many feet.

"i like having you here, doll," the crone said one night when they were knitting. "you've got your quirks, sure, but you're not broken. you'll make an excellent seamstress. i don't mind the silence."

"--" said the doll.

"but, i notice, doll," the crone went on, "sometimes it seems as though you are about to speak, and you choke on the words, and begin to cry. you do know, it's okay to speak your mind here, doll. nothing you say can bother me."

"--"

sometimes the doll was able to speak to the crone. it could thank the crone for the tea. it could confirm that it understood the crone's instructions. it could say no thank you when asked if it needed anything. those were not statements that required apologies. anything else it would indeed choke on. mistress had taken back that order not to apologize, and indeed wasn't the doll's mistress any longer, but still the doll felt that for the most part its apologetic way of forming sentences was incorrect and broken. but the crone was so kind, and didn't mind its crying or its silences. maybe they could tolerate its natural way of speaking.

it thought on what they said for a few days, and then one day when they were walking to town together, the doll trotting beside the old witch, the doll said, "m-miss, i only want to a-a-a...apologize."

the crone stopped in their tracks and looking down at the doll, said, "doll, i am too old to be your miss. you must call me granny."

"ah..." the doll said. "s-sorry."

"i'm not upset," said the crone. "and i don't believe i'm owed any apology. but let us find a place to sit down, and you may give me one anyway."

the doll felt its legs wobble a little at these words, and granny picked it up and brought it to a nearby ledge that looked over a trickle of a creek. they both sat down.

"so you want to apologize," granny said.

"for, for, for," the doll said, "for existing."

"i see," said granny.

"s-ssorry? isn't that wrong?" asked the doll. "isn't this one supposed to be proud?"

"proud? i can think of a few reasons to be proud but no, it's not a requirement. some dolls are humble."

it stared at them, uncomprehending. "sorry?"

"well, in any case, you're forgiven, doll. i'm not offended by your existence, haven't i told you i like having you around? now is there anything else you'd like to tell granny? i'll carry you the rest of the way so you can whisper it in my ear."

and a litany of apologies was whispered in that ancient ear, during the walk, later that evening, and over the next several weeks.

this one was sorry for being frightened of you at first, granny, for resenting you.

sorry for thinking being sent to live with you was a punishment.

sorry for thinking the little ones were cursed.

sorry for never asking for a second cup of tea or a second cookie when it always wanted one.

sorry for crying so much and still crying sometimes at night.

sorry for knitting four pairs of socks wrong because it was afraid to ask for help.

sorry it couldn't untangle the red ball of yarn and had to cut it to pieces, though that was really one of the little one's fault, to be honest.

sorry for only crying when one of the little ones went missing instead of searching with you.

sorry for taking so long to notice how beautiful the light looks in the kitchen window during our mornings together, how comforting the ticking of the mantelpiece clock, and the whistle of the kettle.

sorry for how much it enjoyed the cookies granny made. sorry for how happy this one feels sometimes. sorry for how fun it is to knit a tiny sock. sorry for how beautiful you look standing over a cauldron. sorry for never, sorry for never, sorry, telling you, but it's just so hard to say, that this one loves you

#dollposting #empty spaces #doll apologist #croneposting

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chrysaliscreation · 5 years ago

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