Disclaimer: I do not own Sonic or Coraline
In a tiny little workshop, coated with pink and floral wallpaper, and a dusty old window on the wall. The dusty old window that hung on the wall- its creaky frame opens with no sound, revealing the stars and a dark outland. The doll of a sweet little boy- floating ever so carefully- welcomes itself back after its long and fateful journey outside the workshop. Hands, opening as if to address a party, made of needles and steel, take the tiny little doll. The doll meets the table, and the hands open the small, flat box to begin its work.
"Tre lu, Tre lu, Tre lu la la la la la." Sung a voice. "Tre lu, tre lu, tre lu almenalmamama."
Tear the hair, rip the fur.
Change the doll all over.
Cotton out, inside out.
Sand goes in to fill it all out.
Thread the needle with the thread and sew the mouth with red.
Buttons, buttons, which shall be chosen?
Stitch in all the yellow fur and fluff it up with white.
'This one has two tails so I will sew the next one tight.'
Touch up here and fluff up there to finish up my work.
You're all done, to the next one, into the world you go,
Through the window,
Be eyes and watch the child as they hold you tight; tell when the coast is clear.
Just three children will do me no good.
I'll be waiting.