Friday Fic: Rag Doll
By Bricu | November 13, 2009
Today’s Friday Fic, written by our very own Yva, is about a woman sewing a rag doll. This rag doll might as well be made of Gun Cotton and radioactive thread. When this pile of rags is added to the fuel that is already burning in Old Town, the consequences are going to be dramatic.
She sewed and she sang a song she’d sung a thousand nights.
Good boys get kisses and hugs,
All good boys get sweets
Mommy tucks you in at night,
between your cotton sheets.
Dream of butterflies and flight,
dream of cloudless skies
Mommy loves you oh so dear
Boy, oh boy of mine.
The rags were held together by the threads of an old blanket, his blanket, her dear boy. What used to be pale blue had gone gray with age, but it was enough – the ties were strong still, like her tie to Him. He was gone now, her son, her darling little man, but great things were about to crest the horizon. A new day would dawn. Nothing was ever permanent in this world, and there were so many ways to cheat. And she would cheat death itself, the king of the last domain, because she knew the dark trails, she knew the hidden roads leading to the nether and back again.
Skipping stones, skipping rocks
skipping rope in June
Count to ten, one two three
don’t forget the tune!
Jump and jump, in the square
never hit a crack,
for if you do, four five six
you’ll break your mother’s back.
Almost done, the end is near
seven, eight, nine, ten.
Jump and jump, in the square
So you can jump again!
The arm connected to the body, then a leg, and then another. Soon yarns were strewn through the head, making a mop of golden yellow braids that clicked as the beads struck together. Red cotton laces made a smiley mouth, and the patchwork dress was a dusky purple mageweave, sewn from pieces of His best shirt. When she buried her nose in it, she could smell Him still, and it made her groan, her eyes filling with tears.
Eyes, yes, eyes.
The only thing left was the eyes.
She ran her fingertip over two copper pennies, her lips smirking into a wicked grin, but reached instead for brass buttons, as normal as could be. There was no need for true wickedness now. A plain ragdoll was enough to let them know, to let them fear, to let them wait.
I’m coming for you both, and I will Take. Her. First.
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