In a place of ever lasting darkness, a freezing cold place, there is a little light, moving slowly throughout the abandoned town...
Making the sound of a creaking gear and a wheel.
The sound echoed as the light moved, making a soft sound as it shuffled through the snow...
It was me; I have nowhere to stay, all by myself... and I can't walk so well, even though I have to get to that place.
Broken clockwork, operated by a wound up spring that never comes unwound... I can't even move without that clacking noise.
Why was I even born? I don't know... I just want to sleep... to end this horrid life of mine. I want to go to that place that my master, that person, went to.
I stare at a broken window at the reflection of a little blond haired person and see inside my broken chest... Why is my heart the colour of silver when my skin is that milky paleness that contrasted so nicely with that of my master, that person's...? I closed my deep green eyes and continued to walk with the clacking sound of wood against wood and the soft crunch of snow underfoot.
In distant times, my master, that person spoke to me...
"You are a special doll"
I would dance and sing for him as he praised me, his sky blue eyes reflecting my flawless face and his smile dazzling.
Even now, after I have lost my voice and my clockwork drags my body onward, I try to sing so that I will remember him.
Though, my master, that person will never awake- never open his captivating eyes and sing also.
Why was I even born? The answer escapes me... it's like I have no purpose, and yet I search for one anyway.
I try to keep singing even though my voice has failed me, wanting to cry like my master, that person, used to.
Someday, I'll sleep...
...and go to the wonderful place where my master, that person, is.
But, alas, my dream does not come true...
...I am broken further when I try to force myself into that peaceful motionless sleep and yet the clockwork never stops tick- tick- ticking.
Time passes quickly...
...and I start to forget the songs my master, that person, taught me. I want so badly to remember but my cracked lips and shattered throat would never let me sing them, even if I could remember.
I hurry to the place where that person sleeps and I crawl towards it, dragging my broken and abused body behind me, unable to feel anything... why does my heart hurt so much when I'm not human like my master, that person, was...?
While the clockwork continues to whirr inside of my broken chest, I fall down many times because my body no longer works as it should.
The place where you can see the ocean is covered with flowers, beautiful reds, whites, and pale pale blues...
...roses like my master, that person, used to like.
I pick some of them, my face just as blank as it had been for those long years since my master died, the thorns of the roses not harming my wooden hands, and I go to sleep, finally closing my eyes...
...together with my master, that person, I lay in that place.
My wish came true...
...I could feel it in my heart.
"It was enough that you lived alone"
I heard that person's voice in my ears, the sound of my master close by.
In my dreams, I had heard the voice so many times...
...it resounds with kindness within my hollow silver coloured heart, making me feel like my master, that person, had never died.
A peaceful light, so different from my own, a deep warmness that I'd never felt before...
...it surrounds me and makes me feel safe...
And I smile...
...just a little, but still...
…I smile.
We went to that place today, my father and I... the place that my mother told me about. The place where her brother was buried. I walked up to the gravestone and found something unusual... a little clockwork doll. I looked at the gravestone and turned to my father.
'...father... why is my name on this gravestone...?' I asked, confused.
He just looked at me for a moment, then said, 'that's your uncle's name also, Alfred...'
I picked up the little doll and held it in my arms like a baby... it was broken so badly. 'Father, can we fix it...?'
'...of course, Alfred...' he smiled at me. '...I think that your uncle would like that very much...'
I stroked the faded blond hair of the doll, smiling, '...I think so, too...'