Stitches
Lying in a hospital bed on a cold Saturday morning, a five-year-old Starla Rose Potter started musing to herself different things that she wondered about many times before. One of the those things was if there was anyone who didn't believe stupid lies and stories.
Since she had learned to speak, or more accurately when Dudley had learned to, Starla had come acquainted very fluently with the mundane act of getting told on. Dudley didn't seem to be able to do any wrong in the eyes of adults and always spoke of truth and respect to everyone around him.
Mind the sarcasm.
Part of her wondered if the entire world was filled with adults that believed in people like Dudley or if it was just Little Whinging that was stupid and utterly ignorant. Though, it wasn't all the adults fault when it came to believing him, as his parents, her aunt and uncle, were quite experienced in pulling the sheet over one's eyes.
They were able to convince most people where she lived that Dudley was a good boy while she, herself was a nasty influence even at a young age. Maybe that is why people readily believed that I had 'fallen' down the stairs. If falling had anything to do with two grubby, meaty hands putting sudden force on her back as I was about to go down the stairs, then yes, she fell. A part of Starla couldn't really blame him, he was a horrible monster that treated her like crap all the time, but she could see that he was just imitating his parent's actions. She still hated him, but she understood him to the same degree.
Starla looked around in the room around her. She was in one of those big rooms where they took care of physical problems. Apparently, it was packed today and they were only giving private rooms to people with diseases that were in anyway contagious. She wondered what kind of stuff had to happen for a hospital to get packed, it wasn't like people were breaking their arms purposefully or sticking their heads into refrigerators. Starla sighed and relaxed throwing her hands up and grabbing the metal stands that held up the bed she was on. The soothing cold of the metal, however, quickly left and Starla was left with just a lukewarm piece of junk. She tried to keep the feeling going by pure thought, but it seemed the world didn't want her hands in comfort any longer.
She let her hands fall back to her sides and watched as nurses and doctors hurriedly entered the room to check on a few people then left with great haste, obviously burdened with another, more important task. The doctors and nurses here were some of the people who had become embedded in the deception of her clumsiness being he reason she had fallen by the words of her uncle and aunt, they had even gone the extra mile and causally brought stories of her "rebellious" nature. By the time Starla had went to get her cast, all of the nurses tasked with helping her were wary of any movement that could be considered threatening. She looked around the room and observed the people in the room with her. There were mostly adults that she could see, with a few younger children, accompanied by their worried parents. To her some of the wounds they had were quite humorous.
There were many people who had just broken one of the their bones and was waiting for more adequate casts, but there were also some people who had accidentally eaten mundane objects, from what the x-rays at the foot of their beds implied, and others had cut off one of their minor appendages. There was one guy who was holding his foot with both of his hands, an attempt to lessen the pain for sure, which didn't seem to work at all if his expression of increased pain was anything to go by.
However, Starla quickly grew bored with the people in the room, and reached under the bed to get out one of the few things her aunt had ever bought her. It was around last year that her aunt seemed to grow what could be considered a heart and taught Starla a bit of sewing. It was probably one of the best periods of her, admittedly, short life, but it had all come to an end one day, Christmas to be exact.
Starla had awoken with no intention on finding a present under the tree for her, and neither had Dudley, so when he had complained about the 'girly present' Starla had been shocked. Her aunt explained that it was actually a gift for Starla, a sewing kit. Starla had never noticed the incredibly hard frown that had encased her uncle's face, a sure sign of his displeasure. Even now Starla looked on that day as the best day of her life, but it all quickly crumbled down the next morning. Starla had woken up in a happy mood for the first time for her lucid life and was going to enjoy it by sewing with her aunt.
However, when she had went to the kitchen and looked at her aunt, waiting for the stern yet softer than usual expression she had been wearing the past few weeks, she had been unpleasantly shocked by the now completely stern and absolutely cruel frown on her face. When Starla timidly asked if they could sew together she found that the overall mood her aunt was putting on seemed more forced then real, but was hurt by the denial that had come swiftly after her request. It had only been made worse when she had tried to coerce her aunt with one of the first dolls Starla had made with her guidance. The attempt had only angered er aunt, who consiquently took the dolls and threw it in the trash and leaving the room while telling Starla t start on breakfast. It was only later that Starla was given the chance to get the doll out of the trash, even if it was a bit stained.
Ever since then, Starla had continued to sew, having taken to making little rag dolls with little designs. She treated them as friends, something that she was sorely lacking due to Dudley's heavy-handed manipulation of the school yard. she could only guess that threatening to punch somebody or call them names for the rest of the year were pretty malicious at this age if her social life had anything to say about it. A part of her was bitter towards all the kids who wouldn't even give her a second glance as Dudley and his friends chased her around.
So now working on one of her newest dolls, a pure yellow one with normal black button eyes, but had an infinity sign on its stomach. She liked the infinity sign, mostly because symbolized eternal existence. That was most like the best part of her art, that they would live forever. However, she knew that her dolls were not going to be able live that long, with how they became raggedy and dirty without care, but it was something she dreamed of.
Something that she wanted these dolls of hers to one day be able to do. She wanted to make a doll that would see nations crumble and kingdoms rise from the ashes! Yes! Her dolls would be the ever observant watchers of-!
"Deary, what are you thinking about? I've never seen such a happily thoughtful look on such a young face."
Starla turned her attention to the slightly accented and old voice, more than a little annoyed at being interrupted in one of her inner rants, and was about to tell the lady off with some of the words she had picked up during one of her uncle's bad days at work, but was shocked into silence at the look of the old woman.
She had shoulder length, gray hair that still looked soft and had some of it pulled up in a bun on top of her head. Though, what was really shocking about the older woman was that her wrinkles had wrinkles and her necklace which was encumbered by bones of different small animals, probably squirrels or rats. The old woman took Starla's shocked silence amazingly well and continued to speak.
"That is a very beautiful doll that you are making dear, who taught you." Starla's shock fell away to sadness, the most common emotion when she was asked that. She replied, "I-It was m-my a-aunt who taught me, but she stopped teaching me a long time ago."
The old woman looked on in sympathy and asked, "Did she die, dear?"
Starla almost let out a sob, figuratively her aunt had died, but she didn't say that, "No, she is very much alive and kicking, she just doesn't have any more time for this freak."
Starla would never forget about how after spending time with her aunt for all that time, she was pulled back into the embrace of hate and sadness by the very person that she had come to see as a light on her path.
The old woman seemed to mirror Starla's earlier shock, and was silent for a while before reaching down into a black bag that looked like an arts and crafts project of her own design then something you buy.
She dug her arms into the pouch sometimes going elbow deep into the thing, making Starla wonder about how big it was on the inside, and then seemed to gain a pleasantly surprised look on her face, showing that she had found what she was looking for.
Pulling her arm out, Starla was greeted with the site of a rather weird looking dream catcher. It was brown and had an amazing spiral pattern along with a smooth blue stone in the middle.
"Right here is my hobby, I make dream catchers." The old lady said with a smile.
Starla looked on in wonder at the creation, glancing at her doll wondering if she would ever be able to make something so mesmerizing.
The old lady caught the discreet glance and let out a slight chuckle and said "Don't worry dear, you have ages to perfect your craft."
Starla gave the old woman a small smile in thanks and continued looking at the doll in her hand. The old woman seemed to be thinking something over in her head, before coming to a decision.
She moved her head a tiny bit to get Starla's attention and said, "Do you want to see something amazing, dear?" Starla nods her head in curiosity and eagerness.
The old woman nods her head once and then raises her dream catcher, waving it in the air while also muttering under her breath. Starla feels her eye lids drooping, but powers through it with her will, before noticing that everyone in the room also seemed to be fighting a sudden bout of sleepiness. Unlike Starla, they didn't last long and eventually people were asleep everywhere in the room. The parents from earlier were strewn across their kid's bed, while even the man who was holding his foot in pain earlier was out like baby.
She turned her head so fast to the old woman that it was a surprise that she didn't get minor whiplash. "H-how did you do that? You made t-them fall asleep!"
"That's the power of the voodoo for you, dear. It has many branches of power, all of them deadly and useful in their own right."
The old woman looked at Starla with an excited twinkle in her eye, "And, you shook of that minor sleeping curse like a pro. You have a lot of potential to learn Voodoo."
Starla felt a bit overwhelmed, but even more excited. This Voodoo sounded like gold to her ears, and she would bet her sewing needles that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. "I want to learn Voodoo, mam, but what is it?"
From the way the woman smiled, Starla assumed that she had asked the right question.
"Voodoo is one of the many branches of Magic, dear. There are many people in this world who practice different types of magic, like the wizards and witches found commonly here in Europe or Practitioners of Voodoo like me and...you, dear."
Starla felt tears coming to her eyes as the impact of all this finally hit her. She was being given a gift like no other by a stranger that didn't even know her name. "Miss, what's your name?"
The old woman smiled once more, this time showing off her surprisingly white teeth, "My names Eldra, dear, and what's yours?"
"My name is Starla."
A Few Days Later...
Starla sat down on the floor in her 'room', the room being a cupboard that was supposed to be used for things that didn't breath or bleed after a nasty beating. Eldra hadn't been able to teach Starla many things in the short time they were at the hospital, but she had given Starla a rather large book, that had taken Starla some time to figure out how she was going to hide it, about Voodoo.
It was a special collection of many books that Eldra had been given at the beginning of her Voodoo career by her mother, and because she didn't have any children of her own, she had decided to give it to Starla.
To the eyes of anyone else it had blank pages, but the current and past owners of the book could see that some of the first pages were filled up. Eldra had explained to Starla that the book would grow along side Starla and only show her things that it thought she was ready to learn.
It was made of powerful Voodoo enchantments that had been created hundreds of years ago, so there was a low chance of anyone ever breaking into something they might not be ready for. The book however, from what Starla had seen, was pretty vague at times, opting for the reader to make their own path as a Voodoo Practitioner. Right now, Starla was working on her Voodoo Familiar Object. An object that paved the road for Voodoo Practitioners.
From what she had learned from Eldra, it was similar to the wands that wizards used to focus their magic, but the difference was that Practitioners didn't need the constant use of their Familiar Object unless they were doing something big. The Familiar Object also paved the road to what specialty that the Practitioner was going to use. Eldra showed Starla at the hospital her Familiar Object, hers being a small, blue dream catcher that seemed to hum and sing with power.
Since her Familiar Object was a dream catcher, her specialty was curses that dealt with dreams and falling asleep. The act of picking and creating a Familiar Object was a sacred ritual in the eyes of all Practitioners and to pick one without the proper respect was considered an insult to the art as a whole. Starla had already picked her specialty once she had heard of it.
The art of Voodoo Dolls, something that made Starla stretch her toes in excitement, was an art that dealt with weaving a small part of somebody's soul into dolls that needed to be made to resemble the victim. After the requirements were down, curses that influenced the victim were used, like making them feel drowsy or confident, or something more deadly like hurting them by pricking the doll with a needle or burning it.
Starla had almost jumped Eldra when she heard of the art of Voodoo Dolls, and was only stopped by her hurt leg. Now, however, was time of great concentration. To make a successful Familiar Object, you had to weave your soul into the craft and will it complete, leaving no loose ends. If there was a loose end left, there were major dangers that could come with it.
The soul might escape if not weaved properly and that would cause the Familiar Object to destroy itself, while also damaging the Practitioners soul, making it impossible for them to learn Voodoo, until their souls healed, which took over four years if what Eldra said was true.
Not able to bear with not being able to practice for four years, Starla put all her mind into making this object. She focused and focused, not noticing the pulling sensation in her forehead, while sewing as precisely as she could.
Starla started panting slightly as the pain from giving a part of her soul to the doll started to get to her, as well as an annoying headache in her head. Starla continued like this for over an hour, her burdens becoming progressively worse, until she reached the climax of the ritual.
The pain became greater than she had ever felt, and then, quick as blowing out a candle, the pain ended. Starla dropped her utensils, laying on her back to relax and try to get the phantom pains of the procedure to dissipate faster.
She forced her yes open and looked at the finished creation in her hands. It was like any regular doll with black buttons, but it pure black and had a green lightning mark on its forehead, close to where Starla's mark is. It seemed to hum in the same way that Eldra's Familiar Object had hummed with power, and had a comforting feeling that made her feel safe.
It also had a darker feeling to it, something that surprised her, but she welcomed nonetheless. It was her doll and soul after all so there was no need to be afraid of it. At the thoughts on her mark, Starla realized that for some reason she had pains in her forehead, something quite uncommon. She looked at the mirror in the room and brushed her hair back, curious about what happened to her head.
Her mouth fell open in shock when she saw that her lightning mark had gotten incredibly less visible, actually looking on its way to disappearing completely. The ritual was supposed to only affect parts of the soul to give a better connection to dolls in general and increase her focus, but for some reason it had affected something in her head as well.
Why was there a soul in her forehead? You don't exactly pick them up on the street, no matter how many dark alleys you go down or polluted lakes you drink from, not that she did that. The soul didn't seem to mess anything up, actually she felt the connection much stronger than she would have at the beginning. Maybe that soul fused with her own completely, rather than just being a passive parasite? She let the idea rest and simply got back to the book.
She had things to plan and the means to follow them through. With this power she would see that her dolls live on forever, the epiphany of design, culture, and power. She grinned evilly and thought of all things that she would do in the future with this power, but for now, Revenge.
A/N: This has been in mind a while now. You know, something that I throw around in my head as I walk from one class to another and during class. Yeah. So thanks for reading and tell me how you like it.
Also if you didn't quite catch it, the headache was due to the soul of Voldemort being pulled into the doll as well. Right now the soul has made the connection that Starla has with the doll stronger.