It was sure of only two things; firstly, that it had been something called a child once, and second, that there had once been something other than the unbearable gloom in which it now dwelled. No, it was a he, because it couldn't imagine having been female. All else about his existance before the blackness was null. There were others with him, but they were wary of him, and hadn't been here nearly as long as he. He was twisted, they said; in hushed tones, and distorted murmers. He had forgotten long ago the proper way one was to converse with others, so instead of reaching out, and regaining some semblance of humanity, he stayed; cloaked in shadows, growing more strange, and inhuman as time slid by. He lurked in the deepest corner of the gloom, waiting, watching. All was the same, until without warning, an odd blue-headed creature had come, yelping, chattering, and moving about, disturbing the near tangible darkness that had settled over his inprisonment for so long. In due time, the blue-headed thing had left, and so for the first time in ages, he was truly alone. He began to despair that he would never see another again, until finally, only a short time after the others had left, a ruined horrible creature came; massive and hunched, it's head nearly brushed the ceiling, long, two long, gaunt metal arms extended at it's shoulders, one skelatal hand skittered spider-like at it's wrist, but the other had been rent away by some unspeakable force. Undera tangled cowl of ebony hair sat a parody of a face, where once two eyes must have been, there were only sloppily sewn buttons, gleeming in the sickly grey light. Deep, tarry cracks lined it's visage and a small, oddly demere nose sat the only feature intacted the only feature intacted on it's face. A red-lined slit of a mouth sat frozen in a painful grimace, the mouth opened, as though it meant to speak, but only a small, dry noise came forth, so instead, it simply beckoned, and after a time, he followed. Down long, twisted corridors she swept, for he had detirmined her to be a she in the harsh, colorless light that seemed to peer shrewdly at him from some great height. At length they arrived in a room not so colorless as it's predessesors. In it sat a great, dusty wheel, a table with a mess of tools, and supplies, and half finished dolls. He wasn't sure how he recalled the names of these things; t'was as though they had come from some long-shut crate at the back of his mind, spilling forth without so much as a warning. The creature seemed to brighten slightly as it entered the room, and it skuttled immediatly to the table, rummaging for a moment, before finally emmerging with a long, thin needle. This time when she opened her mouth to speak, words spilled out; at first, hoarse, and rough, but after a moment, her words became deceptively smoove and sweet.
"Sit down, sweety." Her thin, cruel looking mouth was at odds with the high, melodious voice that eminated from it. He had forgotten what it was to sit, and so it took him a moment in which to remember. Once he was seated upon the table, she began to work. for reasons unknown, he felt strangely commatose as she sewed, and welded, and refined. Soon, however a body began to form around him, and as it coalesced his thoughts seemed to fade; growing murky and indestinct, until, finally he lost conciousness all together.