9/2/10
...
A young, silver-haired boy stands in the doorway of his mother's library, where a tall, dark-haired woman sits at a wooden desk, holding a golden-hair doll in a blue dress.
The library- though desgined to hold books- holds hundreds of beautiful collectors' dolls, each one at least four years old, yet seemingly brand-new, all wearing large dresses with matching bonnets. Blue, green, brown, gold- even purple eyes- all stare down from their quiet thrones, waiting to wake with their unblinking eyes inside childrens' nightmares.
The woman's hand strikes the air, then winthdraws, a silver glint in the room revealing the tiny needle laced with black string. She sews the blue dress of the doll quickly, every movement sure, her fingers twitching at every pull.
The boy watches in awe for a moment before stepping into the room. "Mother...?" he questions.
Her head snaps up, motherly instincts kicking in; her fingers freeze over the doll's black-trim of the dress, which seemed to extend under her very finger-tips. She looks towards the door of the library, and sees her son gazing at her with a blank, childish look.
"Kazutaka!" says the woman fondly, lowering the doll into her lap. She gestures for the boy to come in, and he obeys. "Come here, come look!" she tells him.
At her side, the young boy puts a hand on the arm-rest of the chair, leaning his chest against it as his mother picks up the doll and -with a quick flash of silver- works the needle into the bottom of the dress. "Would you like to try?" she asks after several minutes.
Nodding mutely, Kazutaka takes the needle and starts to mimic his mother's movements perfectly, his face tensing with focus. After three minutes of this, his mother starts to laugh.
"Ahahah!" laughs his mother, amused. "You look so tense, my pet!" She removes the needle from the boy's hand in a snatch, saying, "Here, let me show you an easier way-" and the needle pricks Kazutaka's finger, cutting it deeply.
Flinching, the silver-haired boy jerks away from his mother as she resumes her sewing.
"What's wrong?" asks the mother instantly, turning her full attention on her son. "Are you all right?"
Looking at his bleeding finger, Kazutaka uses his other hand to squeeze the wound; three large red dots appear, and quickly darken as the volume increases; giving up, the drops slip down his finger in a streak of bright red. At the bottom of his hand, the drops combine and fall as one, striking the boy's sleeve, the blood standing out beautifully against the creamy white fabric.
A hard scrape of the chair scooting across wood, and his mother is at his side, a firm hand around the boy's finger. "Kazutaka, you're bleeding!" she says, alarmed. "My poor baby...!"
Though the wound did sting a little, it hurt much more when his mother closed her hand around it. But he did not complain. He had learned from his past little mistakes that no matter how many times he tried to explain that he was all right, his mother would still worry about her most precious doll. So he stayed silent, focusing on enjoying the warm, soft skin of his mother's touch, instead of the sharp pain.
"Will I be all right, mother?" he asks, all ready knowing the answer.
"Yes, my poor lamb!" she says quickly, and begins walking, leading the boy out of the room. "I just need to get you a bandage. Does it hurt a lot?"
Kazutaka shook his head.
"Oh, you are so strong!" she coos, "Just like your father."
The boy allowed the woman to take him down the hall and into the bathroom, where she then ripped a hand-towel into strips, picked out the smallest one, and wrapped it around the tiny bleeding prick. "Hold sitll-" she says, tying the course fabric around the finger.
Kazutaka winces again, then sighs quietly, his head drooping.
Finished, his mother throws the scraps of towel away, and looks at her son. "Are you upset?" she asks.
"No," answers the silver-haired boy. "I'm just tired..."
"Tired? At noon?" his mother blinks, then smiles. "You need to go outside for some air- go see what Saki is up to and play a game with him."
Kazutaka nods, then walks down the hallway. The details of the boy is this: His eyes are gray, his clothes are: very short, dark pants, white-long-sleeved shirt, and a dark vest. He wear a small smile now for his mother's sake, but it fades quickly once he leaves the house.
...