What? A COMPLETED fanfic? From ME? Impossible!
Yeah, I got bored, and I was looking at Drocell images, then this was born.
Enjoy!
I own nothing but this piece of writing. Eveything in it belongs to someone else.
Drocell had first realised he wasn't himself anymore, when he took off his gloves to find wooden hands. He didn't remember having wooden hands before.
But before he had a chance to question it, his master had called. He made his first doll out of sticks and stones. It didn't turn out very well. One spilt cup of water, and the doll fell apart in front of his very eyes. Drocell looked sadly down at the remains of the doll on the table, wondering what to do with them.
He didn't even notice that there was a picture of a girl with the same face as his doll in the morning paper the very next day.
Make it out of Sticks and Stones, Sticks and Stones, Sticks and Stones.
Make it out of Sticks and Stones, My Fair Lady.
Sticks and Stones will wash away, wash away, wash away.
Sticks and Stones will wash away, My Fair Lady.
Drocell's second reason for thinking he wasn't himself anymore, was that he seemed to lack so many of his emotions. He definitely remembered being able to feel happy. But to him, nothing seemed to cheer him up. Not even his dolls.
But before he had the chance to question it, his master had called. He made his next doll out of Iron and Steel. This one was much better than the last, but broke quite easily. All he had done, was bend it's arm up to slip on its little coat. Drocell sadly looked at the broken arm in his grasp, wandering what to do with it.
He didn't notice even that the number of missing little girls from around London was the same number of Dolls he had made in the past few months.
Make it out of Iron and Steel, Iron and Steel, Iron and Steel.
Make it out of Iron and Steel, My Fair Lady.
Iron and Steel will bend and break, bend, and break, bend and break.
Iron and Steel will bend and break, My Fair Lady.
Drocell's third reason for thinking he wasn't himself anymore, Was the straw and termites falling from his ears. Now, that had most definitely never happened before. Straw and bugs didn't fall from other people's ears!
But before he had the chance to question it, His master had called. He had waited so long to make this doll, He had even saved up all of his best supplies, just to make it his best. All to please his master.
This doll, he decided, was to be made of silver and gold.
Make it out of Silver and Gold, Silver and Gold, Silver and Gold.
Make it out of Silver and Gold, My Fair Lady.
Drocell's fourth and final reason for thinking he wasn't himself anymore, was the red haired Shinigami telling him that he had in fact, died a few years before they had even met. Someone had taken his body, and turned him into a puppet.
The only person that Drocell thought could do such a thing, was his master. But the Shinigami explained what had happened to his master. Drocell never found out who told him to make the dolls.
He was more upset that someone had stolen his last doll away before he had even started work on him.
Silver and Gold will be stolen away, stolen away, stolen away.
Silver and Gold will be stolen away, My Fair Lady.