Les Mis is not mine, and I make no money from writing this. Nor is Coraline...
The young boy ran alongside his mother, his small legs scurrying to keep up with the woman's quick stride. The day was warm, a murky autumn day with grey clouds but very little chill in the air; the remnants of summer clinging to the days as though afraid to be lost in the fog.
The boy wandered close to his mother's side, one hand holding onto her bright skirts, the other gripping the stick he had been playing with earlier in the day. They were changing places again, trying to find their family. The woman had been imprisoned, her young son living half in the jail with the guards, half on the streets of the nearby town. He was a sensible boy. He had survived.
She occasionally wondered why he didn't play as freely as other children; why he did not laugh and giggle. He had imaginary friends, it seemed, but his idea of games involved slapping them with that stick he held and reprimanding them for wrong-doing.
She did not correct him; she did not know him. Her own son was a stranger to her, this seven year old boy with a scowl and a serious demeanour. He followed her blindly, not asking where they were going, but he did not care so long as she did not leave him. She was not sure if he cared about her, if he even knew how to care. The child did not talk to her, just held her hand and walked by her side. She frowned slightly; unaware it was the same expression her child wore.
As they walked, the woman spotted a large, colourful house. It stood on its own amongst the trees and the slopes and the countryside. Even in the dull glow of the sun through the clouds, it looked welcoming.
She walked over to the house, her boy's hands now grasping her hand instead of her skirt. The house looked empty, but she would leave him standing by the edge while she checked inside. She may be uncertain as to whether or not she loved him, but she would do her duty and protect him as best she could.
The house wasn't exactly empty, but it was somewhat abandoned. There were old fashioned children's toys left scattered in one of the rooms, books with their markers in the pages left on tables in the library... even dishes sat in the deep sink, covered in ants and various other bugs. There was a thick layer of dust over everything. She collected the boy and told him to go and sleep. They would stay the night and leave early in the morning.
The boy walked into one of the old rooms, looking silently around at the remains of someone else's life. He trailed his fingers quietly over the dusty bed sheets, wondering who had lived here. There were clothes in the wardrobe, as thick with dust it seemed, as everything else in this old house. There was a variety of knitted dolls in a box in the corner. Under the bed lay another three dolls, old grimy things, but they were more solid, made of something other than wool, though he did not know what.
One of the dolls in particular was startling though, in a way nothing else in this eerie house was; it wore brown shorts, a white shirt and a light blue waistcoat. These clothes had patches on them... the doll was almost identical to him, light brown hair on its head and a frown on its face. It had two large black buttons for eyes though, which seemed to stare blankly out at the world.
The boy lay on the musty bed, preparing to sleep. In his arms, he held the doll. He kept it close, trying to protect it from the loneliness of the world, to keep it safe.
When they left in the morning, the woman did not ask why the child was so blank. He no longer clung to her, simply walking one step behind her as they carried on.
She did not know him well enough to wonder why he was so odd, she could see little difference. She did not ask why his face and arms were covered in long scratches, as though someone had trailed a knife down him. She did not ask why his eyes were bleeding, as though he had tried to claw them out.
She wanted to find her family again. She knew where they planned to be, if the plans had not changed, but if they let before she and the boy got there then she did not know where else to look. Their family roamed the land, but she would find them.