Sandra
How fair she was the day she died,
But Death wished not to take her.
A child of death she was,
But Death's child she was not.
Her mother was a doll
Made of simple fabric and human flesh
Stitched with rough woolen thread
And stuffed with autumn leaves.
Her young mother danced and sang,
A girl with a heart still beating.
She knew of medicines and poisons,
But knew poisons couldn't kill the dead.
Her father was a king.
A man of simple bone dressed in black,
Admired by all and swooned by women.
He was a master of fright and a demon of light.
He could scare; yet give advice to those who need.
He dreamed of making his town greater each year.
He didn't want the fame,
But accepted it.
It was believed their love would never be
Until a snowy night brought out the heart
In the heartless king.
However, this story is not truly about them.
Now, the king had five sons of bone.
As happy as his life had become,
He dreamed of a little girl to hold.
Then came Halloween;
A celebrated time of year for the town.
But people worried the King would not show
For he led the festivities each year.
He had something on his mind.
The time buzzed in his head.
The mayor came to his side
And he took his wife's hand.
"I will come back.
I want to see her, too.
If the time comes before I return,
Send Zero to find me."
His dog barked twice and watched his master depart.
Midnight was drawing near.
The moon shown with an eerie glow.
What was happening on All-Hollow's Eve?
Five boys slept in a nearby room
When their mother let out a horrible scream.
On this night, it would have been wonderful,
But this one meant life.
Zero raced across river and field.
His master had to know the time was here.
The children needed a scare, it's true,
But he had waited long enough for this night.
Five boys stood around their mother's bed,
The eldest had taken his place at the head.
The King entered with caution,
Holding his breath.
She smiled at him and whispered in his ear,
"Your wish has come true.
We now have six,
But this one, my love, is a girl."
He smiled a grin of sheer happiness that night,
A grin some children would find rather frightening.
She opened her arms
And his smile did fade.
"How can this be?
She is not pale.
Her eyes are bright as day.
My love, she is not dead."
"I know she is not,
but she is ours.
You wanted her
And here she is."
Only one other celebrated that night:
A witch skilled in wood and string.
All around her were dolls
Hanging by their hands and feet.
She ran a small shop deep in darkness.
She worked by candlelight.
And had foreseen the child's birth.
She set to work on her newest creation.
On a high shelf sat a set.
Glass boxes and stones sat on the side.
The dolls dangled as voices echoed in the darkness.
Letters on the set read "EVER AFTER."
"Not long, dear child,
Once you're done,
You'll join your friends.
I just need one more hand."
The days passed.
The people grew worried for the child,
All she ever did was scream.
Finally, someone came foreword.
"Please, hear us.
The child doesn't belong here.
Food is rotten and milk was sour.
She will surely die without water pure."
The doll went to her husband.
They talked and neither wished to give her up.
Three days passed…
Her screams became weak.
"My love, it's time.
She cannot stay.
Let her go to the living
And not remain with the dead."
He kissed his daughter
And watched the doll leave.
Mid-November was upon the world
As she stepped from the tree.
The doll stepped from the forest.
A small neighborhood sat in the moonlight.
She knocked on the door of a simple house,
A woman answered the door.
No one was there.
She found the child.
The doll watched her only daughter go
And let herself cry when she smiled.
The woman and her husband were in their fifties.
A photo of their daughter deceased sat on the mantle.
They hadn't been parents in years
But they couldn't deny her safety.
15 years later…
Sandra was the name given to her at birth.
The letter didn't say much except name, date and…
She was theirs.