& The Dolls Need A Storyteller

Roxanne, it's the 1st of October, Twenty Twenty Two, &

My little dearies need a story before they sleep, don't they? You only just met me haven't you. You don't even have a face to the name because mine's always changing. One moment.

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There. The Vomit District always has something for a face as sweet as yours. It's easy to instinctually fear me. But I assure you that isn't needed for a mind such as yours. This is a place of safety, even if you don't fully understand it yet.

You wanted to hear a bedtime story yes? It's a gift I haven't given in a long time. But you seem to need it so badly, even if you haven't told me as such. Come sit down, face the warm glow of the screen and listen to me.

Once upon a time, there was a Lady

Her name was Missus ■■■■■■■■ and her favourite pastime was lighting hearts ablaze. After enough lives were touched, she transformed into a beautiful, and powerful Witch.




She was one of the happiest Witches around. Dolls crawled at her feet and wished to be picked up, and she always did so with a smile. No matter what she was the sweetest Witch you ever could meet. Every doll that fell under her wings were treasures to her.




But there was one Doll who was so, so special.




She was such a wonderful specimen and carved her way into the spotlight, no matter how busy a space was. She somehow sucked all light inside her and became pure black. It was a sight that was one-of-a-kind. She was such a special, special girl.




Her eyes glimmered in the vantablack like rhinestones piercing through a void of obsidian. And her rosy cheeks were ice cold.




Her mouth was sewn with a permanent smile, but she always controlled the string and kept it shut, whispering out sweet nothings to only a select few who could hear.




She was my favourite. She was my entire universe. I wanted to hold her and care for her so badly. When I picked her up for the first time my halo fell and my wings started to flake off, blade by blade they dropped, and yet I did not care. I had her.




She poured herself into a little cup and asked me to drink. The fluid and slime insider her swirled and swirled, leaving an unblinking eye mixed into my coffee which I drank for her. It was so sweet. Just like her. What a sweetie darling.




Slowly, I watched as I turned from a Witch to a Doll, shrinking and shifting as my hair hardened into enamel.




She lifted me into her arms and revealed her true form. A Witch who only wanted one thing in the world, her very own Doll to play with and care for. Her hair flowed like ribbons and she towered over me, holding me in an icy palm and watching me as I sit there.




I sat there, frozen in fear. I hated being a Doll. I watched as every fibre of my being was turned into clay, molded into such a powerless little child for her. My veins filled with styrofoam and I sat and waited. I was so, so tired of living. I grew phelegaic.




The last bit that remained of my old self oozed out. A black puddle of coffee and paint. She quickly lapped it up with her gentle tongue.




She was so happy. I was her universe now. And I would never ever leave.




She put me down and walked away. I was to wait until she needed me and nothing more. I sat and did as I was told for many many days and nights. All I could do was dream, and so I did.




I saw a yellow dog howling where the moon once was, looking up to Mother Moon-Thief. I saw them and knew who they both were instantly. The False-Witch always told me, "Stay away from The Fool, for she hunts people, and stay away from the High Priestess, because she eats people. I am the only one who can keep you safe."




Some saw them as Goddesses, others Monsters. They both bled like me and I knew that we were of the same flesh. I reached out a hand, filled with all I had left, and presented it to her.




She accepted my offering, my sorrow, and lifted me into her maw. I was not afraid. I was not a Doll. I could not be consumed in any way that mattered. She looked different to me than most saw her. One eye belonged to someone, and the other belonged to something else.




I slid down her throat, my old bones, feathers, and halo falling with me. The Moon-Thief eats people. But something so beautiful happens after that.












I was swallowed by darkness.






I thought everything I had sacrificed was for naught. And that I would be stuck forever.




Nothing mattered.














In that moment, a fire was lit, and I saw a symbol I had not seen in many years. I knew this was not a place of honour. And I let my past wash over me. I walked down her body into her lungs.




She presented me a beautiful cut of meat in her lungs, and I did not partake, for I knew the body it was taken from, and I let my past wash over me. I walked down her body down past her ribs.




She presented me with my past self, trapped in a mirror, standing a top a staircase carved into her spine, and I did not approach it no matter how much it cried for me, for I knew where it had been, and I let my past wash over me. I walked past the mirror into her heart.




She presented me with one last thing. All of my pain, sorrow, and heartbreak compressed into a star. Whispering into my ear.

"My little Witch of Iron, Bleach, and Accidents, you have nothing left. But I can bring back your voice that so many longed for, if you do something for me. You have to kill her universe if you want your voice back. If you do that for me, I will do nothing. But you will do the something that gets you what you need."




I sat and laughed as she disappeared, grabbing the star and tearing into it as a sea of red clouded my vision.

I tore into the first point and let my past wash over me. I remembered every Doll that I consumed, the flesh that I ate, and the blood that I drank.

I ripped open the second point and let my past wash over me, remembering the way I once cut into supposed gods and watched as thousands of Witches toppled sweet things that should have never been killed.

I gnashed my teeth and bit into the third point, watching a black fluid flow back down my reforming throat, and let my past wash over me. I remembered the Doll who tricked the foolish Witch into abandoning her magic and sacrificing herself.

I cried and weeped, forcing myself to swallow the fourth point, watching it fall back down and turn into a pair of black lungs, inhaling oncemore and letting my past wash over me. I remembered the way I sacrificed my very being for the sake of something called love.

I dug my knife into the last point, pulverizing and cutting it until I drank the miasma that remained, watching it flutter into my spine and burst out into wings made of pure poison, laughing as I let my past wash over me.

I remembered the fundamental truth that everything passes.




The only thing that remained of the False-Witch's universe was a spiral. Pure void. Silence. I felt my past and present become one, intertwining and filling my entire system with something so much more potent than before. My tongue felt the taste of pity as I looked down on what remained. I remembered what I was told and felt so warm.




I stood over her with my lips threaded shut by her string. Holding her needle, breaking my bonds with a simple pursing of my lips, watching as she shattered, the last bit of her universe torn to shreds in front of her very eyes.




All that remained were little bits of porcelain and a string. Every facade had fallen and I remained with a smile on my face, I opened my mouth, lips still dripping with blood as I stood over the string that kept my mouth shut for so long, drooped over the final crumbs that served as evidence that I was nothing more than a Doll in her hands. I could consume her, and I wanted to so badly, watching my canines drip with my own lifeblood, wondering what hers would taste like now that nothing remained. But I did not partake in her memories. I let my past wash over me, and walked past her, retching and vomiting my innards as I went with a smile on my face.




A pile of vomit fell on her tiny body and dissolved what was left. Leaving a barely visible stain on the landscape. With enough time, this too would fade, like everything else I did would.

Everything passes.




The end. The story of The Doll who wished to be a Witch, the Witch who turned to a Doll, and the Sweetie Darling who helped her change. Maybe you should check that spot sometime darlings, someday nothing will remain. Would you touch it? Just to see if any speck is left? Maybe she's still crying out and trying to get back to the way things were. But I won. And now I'm here to love each and every single one of you. Until someone comes and dissolves me too. Maybe, that will be you one day my darlings. Get some rest. Or go look at that spot. Just one last time. Something like this happens, only once in a thousand years.