Author's Notes: Not the first thing I've written.. It's short, a one shot, and won't be continued. Decided to write it up after a dream I had.. with that, place enjoy my story. There isn't much to this story.. I thought it would be better if you could place in the details.
Porcelain Doll && Fading Memories..
Everyone knew the rules of the town. You were allowed to go where you pleased, as long as you did not go near his shop. A musty old shop, plant vines weaving themselves around the house, clinging like a snake would its prey. Compared to the relatively beautiful town, this shop was an eyesore. People were too afraid to ask him to clean up, rumors fly around that the man was of course, some type of creep. A freak, a widower. When his wife passed away with a strange illness, the man had no will to do much anymore. That was, until he started receiving strange parts - as if he was building something. It made sense of course, because the shop owner built toys and other machinery for those who asked. As long as you avoided his shop, you were okay in the town.
An older-looking man, cane in hand, stumbled down the small hill to his shop. His yellow and crooked teeth barred out of his mouth like some sort of rabid animal. His black hair was languid, laying lifeless upon his scalp, riveting down to his shoulders. Nobody dared to approach him, and he preferred it that way. They thought of him as a freak, as some sort of madman. He didn't care. He didn't need them at all. He had her, so no one mattered anymore. Unlocking his shop with a small key, he pushed the door open and quickly locked it, making sure no one was trying to sneak a peek inside his shop. Putting up his debris-splattered "Closed" sign on his window, he flipped on some light, able to see much better.
His shop was covered in dust and cobwebs, soot littering all over the threshold. Except one thing. Near his windowsill, there was a large spot, enough to fit a small girl. And what was sitting there? A beautiful blonde girl, simply sitting there. The man smiled and waved over to her. She did not wave back. He walked closer, examining her features. Her skin was not flawed; pearly white, smooth, radiating in the bit of light peeking through the curtains. Her hair was long and honey blonde, wavy and touching her back. And last but not least, twinkling blue eyes gazed back up to her creator.
The shop owner pressed a button on the back of her neck. Somewhat instantly, the little girl came to life. Her blue eyes glowed slightly, before she lifted up her head slowly. Of course, she could not speak. A doll could never speak. But she could move and was able to understand him.
"Are you happy today, Victoire?" asked the man after a long pause, smiling at the girl. The girl nodded her head curtly, gazing up at her creator. Her robotic body stood up, turning to her owner. The doll was only four feet tall, miniature when you compared her to her owner. He was tall, probably around six feet. He lifted up her small hand, grasping it slowly. And they began to dance.
Of course, this doll could not dance, but she could move. The two waltzed to their own tune, oblivious to the fact that no music was playing. The man was in bliss, grasping the doll carefully. The little doll tottered her feet delicately, following in whatever rhythm her owner went. It was peaceful, the man picking up his rhythm. The little doll, eager to impress her owner, continued to dance with him.
When she finally attempted a small leap, she stumbled. With a large crash, she fell to the floor, no longer moving. The man ran over to her, examining her for any nicks or scratches. "No matter. We'll try again some other time, Victoire." spoke the man gravely, pressing the off button on his doll. He sat her back down in her spot by the windowsill and walked up the stairs, only to be reminded of what he used to have.