Hello readers.

I've finally decided to resort to… Original Characters. (I'm so sorry)

I needed some others in the story and I've been working on these for the past few weeks.

To the anonymous Guest who kept badgering me to update, I apologize, but it has taken me some time as my Beta was rather busy and I also had to balance several important essays, Internship applications, projects, in addition to some personal issues. In other words, Junior Year of college. Ask anyone who's gone and they'll probably tell you it was the sh*ttiest year of them all.

To White Squirrel (I really enjoy your fic, by the way), I'm glad you showed concern for going "overboard", but Harry was just a bit overexcited in the moment and pulled out everything he could think of. It was also a chance for me to showcase a few options for people to consider. As for the name, I don't want to include "Harry" in it (like "Harry the Killer" or "Harry the Slasher") because I don't want other people getting too wise to the connection too early… *wink* *wink*.

Fair warning for the OC's, I thought a Point of View shift to first person might be more interesting.

I apologize for the ultimate sin *electricity crackles as the Forbidden Alchemy Array of OCs glows and Truth begins to disintegrate body*

Oh, wait! I hope you enjoy, review, and- *zap*

*silenceeeeeeeeeefavoriteeeeeee*

...= Shiloh's Story =...

I sat in my creator's attic.

It wasn't much, but, then again, I didn't really need much.

I had my own bed with a mattress and some blankets if I wanted to pretend I was cold. I had a sewing machine and kit in the corner for rips and tears in me. I had a few dresses my creator gave me. The rest of the space was taken over by my creator. Boxes and boxes of books, clothes, decorations, and miscellaneous took up space up here. But again, I didn't mind.

I owed everything to my creator. He was kind enough to give me life and space, so what was I to ask for more.

My first memory was my creator.

I-

I-

I am.

There is something above me.

I perceive sounds from an orifice in a small bulge above a larger part of it.

"Haha, oh God, it's working… it's moving… Oh, damn what do I say… N-now, I… I am Doctor Costitch… I am your creator… And you… my glorious creation… your name is… Shiloh… yes, Shiloh Costitch… you are my creation… my daughter."

I assimilate this.

I am.

I am.

"I am… Shiloh."

I did not understand him very well back then, but over time, he supplemented my new memories with knowledge of the English language. He gave names and parameters to emotions I felt. He taught me my own anatomy and how to stitch myself up whenever one of my seams would split.

He showed me how my torso ("chest" as he called it) was hollow and served only as a storage space. I took to keeping spare needles and thread inside of it. I found it exceptionally useful whenever I accidentally tore myself and my creator was too busy to help me up to my room. I lay on the floor for hours the last time my leg caught the umbrella stand.

He gave me clothes and I would admire them as I had been told to. I would put them on as I had been told to. He would take pictures of me in my dresses.

I would never object.

I tried making my own dress using the scraps from old ones and he chastised me for not wearing the ones he'd bought. I liked the dress I'd made, but he burnt it none-the-less and gave me a new one to wear.

I didn't object.

He instructed me on something called "sleeping" whenever he was not with me, in which I lay in my bed (as I am doing now) and stare at the ceiling. I've done that many times and have counted the cracks. My most exciting night was when I found a small creature, a "spider", in the corner, but my creator found it a few days later and squished it against the wall.

Now I just watch a stain.

Anyways, when my creator was awake, I would follow him and he wouldn't object… most of the time.

I observed his habits, but found no need for the items he stored in the cold box in the room with black and white tiles nor the items he derived from the hot box in the same room. I did not need the clear liquid from the silver basin and I was absolutely befuddled by the curious little room with a large porcelain basin, a medium-sized porcelain basin that made an alarming sound when a silver handle was pulled, and a small basin similar to the one in the room with black and white tiles.

I attempted to follow my creator into the room on one of his many visits, but he merely chuckled and explained that I had no digestive tract (whatever that meant) so therefore I had no need for anything in the room.

In fact, he banned me from it.

He banned me from many rooms and doors.

I came to understand the room of porcelain was called "Bath-room" and the room with black and white tiles was called "kih-chen". The room I occupied was called "Attic", but my creator encouraged me to refer to it as "Bed-room". And the room where my creator would run tests and where I first came to be was called the "laboratory".

I had stayed in his laboratory for a few days after my creation, but he moved me up to the attic when he needed the space. He also said that others like him frequently visited and he couldn't risk me being seen.

I didn't object.

Though… one event made me consider it…

One day, I ventured around the familiar hallways and found the door to a room ajar. It was a forbidden room, but a bright light captivated me. It was not a harsh white like the glowing tubes on the ceiling in my creator's laboratory, but a soft yellow-white. I entered and I was awestruck by this… picture in the wall.

It was much like the other picture frames in the hallway and the rooms I was allowed, but this one had movement to it. I saw tall objects out of wood with curious green… papers on the top? The floor looked like it was made black stone or white stone, depending upon which strip of stone I looked at. Around it was a green carpet-like floor. Beyond the black strip of stone was a massive collection of those tall wooden objects, almost creating a solid wall.

I was frightened when a gray object with four black circles rushed by on the black stone floor, but it continued, unaware of my presence.

I stayed in that spot for a few minutes, watching the picture change with the ticking of the wall clock.

Then I saw it.

A blue… thing!

It was unlike anything I'd ever seen before! It looked like two blue pieces of paper with intricate black designs were connected to the center. The papers fluttered quickly and it darted around the picture before landing right on the white, wooden outcrop at the bottom of the glass.

I saw it up close. The blue pieces of paper were connected to a small, black stick with smaller sticks and a curly black thread at the end. Eventually, it removed itself from the picture glass and fluttered, floated away off… to what?

"SHILOH!"

My creator was not pleased that day. He saw the door was opened and found me at the picture. He took me away from it and I distinctly remember him labeling it "Win-Dow". He forbade me from being by one ever again.

I obeyed… though I felt a slight irritation or objection…

I was sent to my attic that night. I did not come out for some time and when I did I discovered that the forbidden rooms now had many, many locks on its door.

My creator insisted upon simpler games to play. Games that were inside. I obeyed his instructions to play with curious dolls, though I simply made them amble around the small, wooden house and my creator seemed to approve. I saw no point, but he was happy.

The games in his laboratory were not as fun.

He would take sharp objects and rip apart my skin. Then, instruct me to sew it back on. He would remove the white, fibrous substance within me and examine its effects. He would remove one of my eyes and examine how I made the fibrous substance attach to it.

It didn't "hurt" as he had asked frequently, but it was still uncomfortable.

I was grateful when those games were over, though I always knew more would be on the way. If my "skin" had too many stitches, incisions, or patches I would remove it and sew on a new one while I repaired the old skin, weave by weave.

I found that the fabric and threads that made me were able to be manipulated. I could move a threaded needle delicately through a weave without touching either. I could connect two tiny fibers of my "skin" together with some time and concentration.

My creator ran many tests on this. He was always excited by them.

However, I found for the past few weeks he has not had me do much of anything. So, I've been "sleeping" for all this time. I'll admit it was not entertaining in the slightest. In fact, it was rather painful in how boring it was.

However, something new happened.

Earlier today, there were loud noises from beyond the walls in my attic space.

Unknown to my creator, but one day I'd discovered a hole in the wall of my attic. It was blocked on the other side by a black panel of slate that I knew better than to ask my creator about. I discovered I could push the panel out of the way and see the same image the "Win-Dow" gave me, though from higher up.

It was a disobedience… but one I had no reservations about simply not telling him. After all, it was not technically a "Win-Dow" nor was it a forbidden room.

That day, I looked out my hole and saw a large object with many black rotating circles like the one that had frightened me, but this one was much larger, noisier, and had a large, white box which opened in the back with a clatter. Many beings like my creator, but louder and bigger were lifting objects into my creator's house shortly followed by other creator-beings entering the house.

There was a tall creator who seemed to be the leader of the group. Next to him was a person similar to myself, long hair and breasts that were larger than my creator's. I never quite understood that or the differences. My creator insisted that it would matter, but I never bothered with it much… perhaps it had to do with that curious room with porcelain basins…

Anyways, besides those two adult creator-like people were two smaller-creator-people. A creator-being who looked like the long-haired creator-being; shorter than my creator with softer skin and a smaller chest. She spoke adamantly into a curious, pink device. And there was also the tiny creator with short hair.

I remember my creator saying something about himself being called a "human", something that I am not. He said he was a "man" and showed an image of someone called "wife" which he said was a "wo-man".

He explained how "wife" was a "wo-man" who would be with the "man".

From that, I deduced that the tall creator- er, "human" was a "man" while the long-haired human was his "wife", a "woman". The two smaller beings were confusing, but the smaller one was probably a small "man" and the small creator with the pink device must be a slightly smaller "woman". Though, I found myself unconvinced they were a "husband" and "wife".

I'm not sure what it all means. There was a lot of noise below and talking, but I stayed "sleeping" on my mattress. I did not know what to do, but I was confident my creator would know and he would come get me.

Eventually.

Time continued on and I waited in my creator's attic. The voices and shuffling had long-since stopped and the house was once again silent. I guessed they must be "sleeping" as well, or perhaps gone.

*creak*

I did not move, but I was surprised to hear the creaking sound from across the way. The door from the stairway to my attic was shifting open! My creator returned!

A beam of light came from the opening and I kept my head still, not wanting to disobey my creator's instruction to keep "sleeping" until he came to wake me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the white beam flit around the attic space and eventually land on myself.

I heard a soft gasp.

Internally, I frowned.

This was not my creator, his voice was too high.

I turned my head and looked straight at the human holding the beam of light. It was the small man.

"AAAUUUGGHH! SIS!" The creator-being ran from the room and down the stairs. I was slightly miffed. My creator never let me run in the house.

I returned my head to its original position. At least it was new from just staring up at the ceiling all day.

Within a few minutes I heard the thumping of feet. The short-haired small creator brought along the long-haired small creator. She sighed and her voiced drifted up the stairs. "Seriously, Matt, if this is some stupid prank-"

"It's not!" The short-haired creator, 'Matt', defended. "It moved, Sis!"

"Ugh. Mom and Dad are gone for tonight can I just babysit you without the 'dead woman in mom and dad's closet'?"

"It's nothing like that time!"

The long-haired creator 'Sis' scoffed. "Whatever. Okay, so what am I looking at?"

The beam of light from a flashlight flitted around the attic space before eventually landing on me. I heard Sis gasp and the floorboards creaked as she got closer to my mattress. "Oh. My. God. What is that thing doing here?"

"Don't get close." Matt whimpered behind one of my creator's "X-Mas" boxes.

Sis apparently did not hear him and kept creeping forward. "So, the freaky guy who owned the place before had a life-sized teenage girl doll in his attic. Oh, Jesus, it has its own bed too! That is just f*cked up."

"Sis, language."

"Aw, shut up. I was making popcorn and getting the movie ready and you were the one who got freaked out by this… thing and dragged me up here."

"B-but it moved."

"Yeah, right. That old guy was just some crazy frootloop with some weird tastes or something, I dunno. He didn't have any kids or relatives, so that's why we got everything when he kicked it. Just… don't touch it. God knows what that old creep did with it." She shuddered.

She picked up an old, dusty blanket and threw it over me. "There, out of sight, out of mind. We'll deal with it when we get rid of all this shit up here. C'mon."

Sis took Matt by the hand and closed the attic door, repeatedly telling him that there was no reason to be a "baby", whatever that was.

I slowly got up, the blanket falling off of me, curious at this new development. My creator would be upset if he knew I was leaving my room.

But does he need to know?

My face contorted into an odd quirk where my lips moved upwards. I was so bored here and my creator didn't seem to care, he would've checked up on me by now.

I slowly sat up and swung my feet over the bed. I slowly got up and stood before carefully padding over to the attic door.

I descended the steps, one at a time, sure that my creator would find me and punish me, but for some reason, I found this the most enjoyable thing I'd done yet! It felt… exciting!

I heard muffled voices from down the hall and backed into a shady corner.

"Come on, Matt, let's pop the movie in." Sis called to him. The Matt human ran from one of the forbidden rooms and down the stairs to the main level. I quietly followed them to a not-forbidden room. This was what my creator called a "study". There were still bookshelves full of books she was forbidden from looking at even though he'd taught her to read as an experiment on "symbol recognition" and the "fire-place" embedded in the wall was empty of its usual artificially flaming log.

Though, what caught her attention were new items. Brown boxes, like the ones in her attic were all around and the open ones held her creator's books and journals. There was a large chair that seemed stretched, I remember my creator calling it a "sofa", although his was in another room.

The main object in the room was a flat, black device with a large pane of black glass and cables out of it to the wall. Sis sat down with a bowl of fluffy, white… bits covered in yellow liquid that she would put in an orifice in her face, her "mouth" if I recalled correctly. She picked up a black rectangle and pressed one of the many buttons on it.

A gasp almost escaped as the black glass lit up with bright colors. Sis pushed more buttons and there was a whirring sound before the glass lit up with more colors, but distinct and with sound. A pretty arrangement of sounds at different pitches filled the room… I believe my creator called it "music" once, but hadn't given me any to listen to before.

I silently crept so I was behind a curtain. I could see the glowing device, but I was confident it was out of the sight of Sis and Matt.

To my amazement, the glass began showing a wooden scene with intricate carvings around it with blue letters with the occasional red letter making names and words. In the background was a voice singing a bright song.

I clung to every word, "When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are, anything your heart desires will come to you. If your heart is in your dream, no request is too extreme, when you wish upon a star, as dreamers do."

What are dreams? What is a star? I'd seen my creator show images of the geometric shape during lessons, but I couldn't imagine people wishing on something so simple. It sounded like something more.

More voices followed, singing that same song. It suddenly opened on an image of a desktop with old books, glasses, and a small spotlight. Suddenly, the spotlight shifted to a tiny creature in a blue hat singing the song from the opening.

The story went on, showing beautiful lights in a black sky. A small village. An amazing shop of toys and mechanisms. The plotline became more grand; with puppets and fairies and consciences and talking cats and foxes. I couldn't stop watching.

Eventually, there was a small scene with a stage with a red curtain. The puppet-small-man danced and sang, but the lyrics caught my attention the most.

"I've got no strings to hold me down, to make me fret, or make me frown, I had strings, but now I'm free, there are no strings on me!"

Such notions. What does "free" mean? What does he mean about strings holding him down? But most of all, why did I feel so… longing as I heard that song?

The glass continued to show the story. In the end, the puppet boy somehow became a "real boy" with a lot of sparkles, presumably from the fairy. As the glass began showing names again, Sis took Matt upstairs to bed and cleaned up the popcorn.

I stood still, hoping she wouldn't-

"Aiiieee!"

What was that word my creator told me not to use? Frick? Truck?

He said it once when he burned his hand on a hot beaker.

Either way, it felt appropriate at this time.

Sis shrieked as she saw me in the corner of the room. I didn't move anything, even my glass eyes, for fear of a further reaction.

She just kept cleaning, casting side-long glances at me from time to time while muttering, "Matt did it. Yeah, of course, I zoned out during that whole 'Monstro' thing. He must've gone upstairs and brought it down to scare me. Yeah, 'course he did."

Eventually, she turned off the lights and, with one final glare at me, fled up to her room. I heard a faint click indicating the locks were active.

I slowly began to move again, careful not to make any noise against creaky floorboards. I looked around the room, feeling this curious 'buzzing' sensation in my main abdominal region. I felt similar whenever my creator would offer to show me something new. I believe he called it "excitement".

This was against the rules, but it was so interesting!

I crept across the room to the bookcase. Inside, I recognized a few very large books that my creator would give me. They would have thousands of words, pictures, and explanations for me to learn from.

If he wasn't here, he wouldn't mind if…

I opened the glass casing and pulled out the "Dictionary", "Grey's Anatomy", and the two "Encyclopedias" from the shelf. With my stolen knowledge in hand, I crept up the stairs to my "Bed-room". I did not need much light and even then, my eyes cast a dim glow that I used to decipher the pages.

Internally, I felt "giddy" (as the "Dictionary" later told me). It was so adventurous and exciting to do this! To be able to have my own decisions…

Speaking of…

I glanced down at the yellow dress I'd been wearing since my creator last gave it to me. The time my creator was gone had caused it to begin to fray and rip. Despite creating me with such careful finesse, he did not have the same sewing skills with normal fabric.

I took out a small repairs kit my creator left for me and selected a needle and some thread. The rest of the night was spent stitching together patchwork dresses to my heart's content and reading from the forbidden books.

I learned that the young, small creator person was called a "boy" while the taller, young creator person was a "girl" or "teen" (given age differences). The encyclopedias and anatomy text helped clarify the difference. I was right, though, about the porcelain room pertaining to it.

Some time passed, I'd reread the dictionary to the "Q" section, when I heard a few people coming up the stairs. I quickly hid my books and slumped to a neutral position on the floor.

Sis walked up with her parents (another word I'd learned in the dictionary). The girl flipped on the lights and walked over to my bed.

"Okay, mom, dad, just hear me out. There's this freaky- where'd it go?" She searched my bed, pulling off covers and looking underneath, not noticing me. "No, that's crazy. The stupid thing was right- Augh!"

She shrieked when she finally laid eyes on me, pointing mutely at my limp form. The parents followed her gaze and looked uneasily at me. "There! See?! It moved! And changed! It was wearing some yellow sundress earlier!"

I did not react to her shrill voice… as much as it irked me, I have to admit.

"Calm down, calm down, sweetie," The older female said quietly. I learned she was called "mother". "Matt's probably just playing a prank again, okay? It's just a doll. It can't hurt you. See?"

She walked straight up to me. I found my ability to stay still was being fought by a nervous urge to twitch as she came closer and closer.

She stuck a slender finger at my temple and tapped. "Huh. This thing has a wooden head or something…" She murmured. The woman then took my arm and felt through my "flesh" and prodded my arm "bones". "Oh, wow! Honey, look! This thing even has wooden bones in it!"

The adult male, "father", came over and also pressed my arm, feeling the "bone" underneath.

"Ugh! Gross! Don't touch it!" Squealed Sis. Mother seemed to grimace in realization and stopped touching before wiping her hand on her jeans.

Father straightened as well, frowning at me. "Well, personally I think it's pretty cool-"

"Noooo." Sis whined, "Please take it away from here. It's just so… so creepy."

Father snickered, "Well, pumpkin, if you can find someone who's willing to take an life-sized 18-year-old doll, then we can. I'm not sure we can just toss this in the trash can without being reported by neighbors."

They continued to debate, ultimately deciding on nothing and leaving me for the night.

I sat in my spot, contemplating the interaction. There was so much to it. "Pumpkin"? Where did gourds come into play here? What does "reported" mean and why would I be for being in this… 'trash can'? Who are the "neighbors"?

I reread the dictionary, intent on finding out as much as I was able from this new context.

Time moved on. As it did, I seemed to fall to the wayside. On occasion, I would sit by the ventilation system and listen to the conversations going on downstairs echoing through the metal ducts. It seemed they were always busy with "work", "school", "home work", "community projects", "church", and they were still "moving in" at the same time.

I didn't mind, I had a new spider in the rafters! It was so entertaining during "sleep".

Over the weeks, I found that for five days a week, the family would all be out of the house to "school", to "jobs", and to "errands" for Mother. During those times I would explore this house, enjoying seeing places closed off before.

I discovered the porcelain Bathroom was ultimately unhelpful and possibly dangerous. All three basins distributed a clear liquid compound called "water" (as the dictionary told me) that made my hand cold, soggy, and uncomfortable until it dried off. My curiosity was satisfied rather quickly. If all this room did was produce "water" to get me wet, then I didn't want anything to do with it.

The Kitchen was similarly unhelpful. I determined that the cold-box was a "refrigerator" for storing sustenance while the hot-box was an "oven" for preparing sustenance. It seemed very paradoxal; waste energy cooling the food and then waste energy heating it back up. Why not just keep it at room temperature all the time? However, I found that it was largely useless to consume this "food" as my body didn't have a system to adequately digest this material (understood from "Gray's Anatomy"). I ended up picking it out of my abdomen stuffing a few hours later.

However, I discovered some "textbooks" from Sis, or 'Megan' as I'd heard Mother call her once. They were a fascinating source of material, though far above my understanding. I also discovered how to operate the glowing display and would observe human interactions through interesting displays called "Oprah" and "Doctor Phil". I didn't quite understand what was so interesting, but it seemed entertaining.

Similarly, I had to refer to Grey's Anatomy twice (ultimately unhelpful) for why those men were so ecstatic when they heard they were "not the father".

I largely kept to myself during the evening and night hours rather than risk being discovered, though Matt still came up twice more to shine a light on me and talk, trying to get me to move. It was a fun game. He would shout, trying to provoke me, but I would stay still nonetheless until he finally left or was called down by Mother.

I liked that game.

Even though he looked very scared while playing it.

Today was fascinating!

Everyone was out and I entered Sis's room, interested in finding another textbook, but I found something much more interesting. On Sis's desk was a device that unfolds like a book, but has a large array of buttons on one side and a dark display above like the glowing glass.

I pressed one of the buttons and the device whirred to life.

I watched the display light up and small images move around into a 2x2 square above the text "starting up" for a few minutes before the display changed. It had a small box that required a 'password'.

I didn't know what that meant, but upon touching the "screen", an electrical spark connected with my hand and my mind was bombarded by lines of 1's and 0's and text. Disconnecting from the machine, I saw the screen was become distorted with the same text scrolling down the screen that I saw in my mind before a small image appeared saying "password accepted". The screen vanished and displayed a colorful background with several "icons".

I was shaken by the image I saw. It was startling to say the least, though it still wasn't "painful". It was more like a dull spasm or "ache" behind my eye apparatus.

After some time, I overcame my reservations and slowly approached the device once more. I was careful not to touch the screen again, but found the array of buttons and the small device attached by a chord safe to touch.

I nudged the small object on the chord and saw the screen move a tiny, white arrow in response. I cautiously continued and watched the arrow's progress across the display. When I stopped, I finally noticed a rather large image on the display. This image took up half of the screen and was filled with text.

I yelped in surprise when I nudged a small "bump" on the small object and caused the image to "jump". Repeating it, I discovered it was a way to move the text to continue reading.

Curiosity got the better of me.

I read.

Okay, so my name is Megan. I guess I'm on this forum because of some bats**t Paranormal-Activity-level creepiness in our new house and, apparently, my friend told me this was the best place to post this story.

So, my family moved into this house about a month ago. The guy before died suddenly and without any family, so we got stuck with all of his furniture, but at a really cheap price. Or at least most of the furniture, he did lab work here and his equipment was confiscated by some University or something, but we did get the old beds, sofas, fridge, and stuff.

So, the house itself is pretty okay, it's situated in a pretty remote neighborhood close to the more rural parts of this place. The houses are stationed a bit apart from each other and the backyard opens to the forest tree line.

The first night, my parents had to rush out to the moving company because a truckload of stuff got redirected to a warehouse. That left me and my little brother alone for a couple of hours. The movers were quick and we got a lot of stuff set up and moved around, including the TV and sofa. Just the thing to keep him occupied, right? I'm not a great babysitter, but cut me some slack I wasn't bad.

Anyways, I went into the kitchen to make some popcorn and Matt decided it was as good a time as any to explore around. Next thing I know, he comes running down the stairs, screaming about "something in the attic".

He dragged me up there with a flashlight and when we got there, it was what you'd expect in an attic; dusty with the faint smell of mildew and lots of boxes.

Anyway, he brought me over to this one secluded spot in the corner of the attic. I kid you not, there was a doll there. A freaking doll!

But not like a nice china doll that got stowed away for safekeeping. It was this freaky stitched up life-sized 19-year-old ragdoll in a creepy, yellow sundress lying on a bed like it was asleep! And there was other stuff there too like some f**ked up imitation of a teenager's room.

It had a dresser, there were dresses on hooks, the bed had a comforter and sheets; there was a f**king toy doll house for f**k's sake!

The little troll kept screaming at me that it moved and not to touch it. God, why would I touch it? It was from some creepy loner.

The thing was really freaking me out, but I didn't believe him when he said it moved. I mean, it was just some stupid doll. Right?

Anyways, eventually I got him back downstairs and we watched our movie, Disney's Pinocchio to be specific. Then, Matt went upstairs to go to bed and I was left downstairs. I turn around and THAT FREAKING DOLL IS BEHIND THE COUCH!

I'm not saying, like, it was tossed there, I mean it was positioned so it was facing the screen. I convinced myself it was just something Matt did while I was distracted by the movie, but the next morning it was gone!

I know my brother and he may pull a prank, but he would never sacrifice his "valuable sleep" over it, let alone get up before I do (6:30 to make it to the bus stop) just to have a kick.

I bring my parents up next and the damn thing moved again! This time, it was wearing a different outfit that no one made! I am seriously freaking out about this!

We can't get rid of it because we can't exactly throw away some weird sex doll in a garbage bin. The neighborhood would be bringing it up and ruining my chances with this new place.

Anyways, I haven't seen it recently. I think it's still sticking around the attic, but sometimes I notice things moving around the house when we're away or I swear the TV stations change. My textbooks keep disappearing if I leave them here and reappear the next day on my bed (and I know that I couldn't have missed it).

One time, I found a half-made omelet with weird stuff in it and my mom asked if I made it! Seriously, why would I make an omelet with potato skins and pickles in it?!

But I know my brother didn't cook it because he was at school and band practice afterwards. My dad was gone at work and my mom asked me.

That just leaves that freaky doll and I really need solutions, please! I've been locking my door at night.

…

When I was writing this, I heard something go *thump* upstairs.

Please help me.

I read the entry and was curious about the bit with food. I made an omelet using whatever I found and the glowing display once had a show where they cooked a fluffy omelet using red, pink, and green bits. So, naturally, I searched the cold-box fridge and used red bits from a lumpy vegetable called the "potato", some pink-ish raw beef in the freezer, and green pickles all in a yellow mix of eggs. With the shells, too!

I found it was intriguing and entertaining to watch it cook even if I couldn't eat it. I ended up leaving it on the stovetop after turning it off. I was saddened that they didn't find it appetizing, but I decided to try again some other day.

Out of interest, I looked further down. It seemed there were other people who wrote text in response to hers.

"Get an exorcist on the line!"

"Fake!"

"Your mother is a ************-ing ********* Lorem Ipsum **** agminiun venium ******-"

I was startled by the random pointlessness of that comment as well as its crude language. Along with its lack of context.

"This story's totally fake."

"No way, dude! You should totally give this person a call."

"Burn it! Cleanse it with fire!"

"I agree with the above; burn it!"

"Put it at the crossroads at dusk."

"Careful, it's seen the movie. *There are no strings on me* ;) "

"Where do you live?"

"I'd totally buy it off of you."

"Lame story."

I was confused by all of this. I was not dangerous. I saw no reason to kill me. Yet everyone on this forum seems to be in agreement that I am either not real or that Sis should take action to see that I am removed.

I only wanted to help them. I only wanted them to approve.

I wanted them to accept me. I was getting tired of sitting in the attic all day while they were enjoying each other's company.

I wanted that company, too.

Was that too much to ask? I'd never asked for much with my creator. Is it actually a lot to ask for?

My eyes wandered a bit around the room. It was blaringly pink, but a few odd trinkets were on the bookshelf. I walked over and picked it up.

It was a simple cardboard cutout picture frame with an image of a small Sis with some missing teeth next to a much younger Mother. Above it was "FAMILY" in big, blocky letters glued to the structure.

Family.

"A unit of beings consisting of parent(s) and child(ren) living together in one shelter."

That was a generic interpretation of the word "family". Human or inhuman. Guardian or parent.

What was I to them? A parent? No. That was solely Mother, Father, and my Creator (wherever he may be). I must be one of the children, then. Right?

Children...

Adolescent…

"A premature form of the species."

I suppose that's where I fall short. I am neither a species nor am I "premature", as 18 constitutes legal status (according to those exciting crime shows on the display). I appear to be 18 and though I don't age, I recall 18 "birth days" my creator threw over the years that I was with him. Therefore, I must be 18 years old.

Still… what was I to a family? I am not an "aunt" as I have no relation to the parental figures. A "cousin", perhaps?

I wanted more, though.

In my first moments of awareness my creator called me his daughter-

Daughter.

"A female in relation to parent figures."

I was a "daughter" to my creator…

My creator was a parent…

A parent is a family…

A family is… them.

I am a daughter.

I am part of it!

I'm part of the family!

I must be!

They just didn't know it yet!

My face split into an enormous smile of joy at the realization. They just needed to know! They needed to know how much I care about them and then they'll see how much they care about me!

It was so simple!

Pleased by my decision, I went back up to my attic and began to work.

I watched in secret as the family- my family- got home after a "day out". Matt was exclaiming about something called a "Theme Park". While I was unclear exactly what that was, I knew it was a perfect opportunity for my plan!

With everyone away, I carefully placed their gifts on the table. These gifts would show my inclusion. My desire to be included. They would be grateful and form stronger bonds which would lead to my inclusion as another daughter to Mother and Father. A sister to Sis and Matt.

An added bonus was it would prevent them from "cleansing me with fire".

The family of four arrived, still smiling from their day. They started muttering in confusion as they found the gifts. Mother whispered to Father who shook his head in confusion. They cautiously approached the boxes and Matt opened them.

They pulled out my sewing first. It was a simple, cloth heart I made from the remains of a red dress I had. I would have put lace on the outside, but I didn't have enough at hand.

The second gift was a picture by me! It had the five of us; Mother, Father, Sis, Matt, and myself in what I imagined the house's exterior looked like with "FAMILY" written at the top. I was proud of it, even though my artistic skills left something to be desired.

The third was another picture. It had the house in a general shape with the four of them on the first floor and myself inside the triangle representing the attic. Everyone was smiling.

Though, at the table, no one was. Mother looked faint. Father's hands shook with fearful confusion. Matt was whimpering. Sis was murmuring expletives under her breath.

Finally, they opened my final gift. Sis gasped as she recognized her camera. I wrote a simple note; For your story. She read the note and turned the camera on before immediately pressing some buttons to examine the photos taken.

She stared for a long time.

I remember that picture. It was difficult to get the timing right. I had to delete many of them to get just the right view. It depicted me sitting in my dress on my small cot and mattress in the attic staring passively at the camera (set a few feet away on an auto-timer), a white flash illuminating the surroundings.

The family looked up at the ceiling fearfully before Father told them all to get to the "car". They all complied as Father continued looking upwards.

I made my way quietly up the stairs and settled back into my bed in time for Father to arrive and see me lying there.

He had one of the shiny knives from the kitchen in his hand. I was intrigued what he would do with it. He cautiously approached me, tense but I didn't move. It was a fun game! Maybe it was part of how I became a daughter? Maybe-

Suddenly, he plunged the knife into my abdomen. It didn't feel painful, but it was… curious? I'd never really thought of it before, but I was determined not to lose the game. I stayed still.

He dragged the knife through my stomach and pried my skin apart.

He began chuckling slowly and then it gradually got louder until he was almost doubled over.

"S-s-stuffing! Haha! Of course, it's just a doll full of fluff!" He said to himself between hysterics, pulling out a bit of it to examine before letting it drop back in the wound. He walked away, chuckling hollowly, not even bothering to put myself back together.

How rude.

Using my hand to clamp my skin together, I pulled out my sewing kit from my chest and manipulated the threaded needles to stitch the wound. Oh well, he seemed to be… tense. Perhaps it just wasn't a good time to join the family.

A few minutes later, sirens and red and blue lights gathered around the house. I was so excited! Police! Real policemen! Just like CSI!

Men and women in blue uniforms walked around the house, taking pictures of my gifts and putting them in plastic bags. I was a bit incensed, but was pleased when I heard they would be "dusting for prints". It was exciting! They would put on that special dust and look at it under fancy lights in the labs so unlike my Creator's.

They arrived to my attic, but I stayed still. I realized I had "contaminated evidence", so before they walked up, I reluctantly removed the stitching in my abdomen. They took pictures of me, but didn't end up taking me "downtown". I was slightly miffed about that. I was already practicing my "alibi" and "my rights to remain silent" and such for when they put me in handcuffs.

Afterwards, everyone but two officers left. The remaining two had a conversation about "someone else must be in the house", but that was ridiculous! It was just Mother, Father, Matt, Sis, and me! I would know if someone else was here.

About a week later, they returned to the house from a "motel" after the police assured them it was safe. One day while they were out, I found Sis's story again. I was so pleased! The incident with the gifts was talked about again and supplemented by my photograph.

There were more comments and almost none of them were claiming it was fake.

I was pleased for Sis. Obviously, they must like her story.

One step closer to being accepted.

…

Right?

It was another day when everyone was out. I activated the display (which I came to discover was called the "Tee Vee"), but was disappointed when the crime shows and Oprah were not showing. However, I decided to try to branch out and look at two channels called "History" and "News".

How horrible.

How absolutely horrifying.

I lay in my bed that night, staring at the spider in the rafters quietly spinning a web. However, my mind was not on the spider, instead I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd seen.

What I'd witnessed.

Crime.

Murder.

Weather changes.

Starvation.

Disease.

Pollution.

However, the History told me about "War". It shook me.

Why would they go through such long, bloody wars? Why would they sacrifice life for it? Why would so many innocents have to die?

The image of the towering mushroom cloud rose to mind.

So many.

These humans were so… horrifying. I was not human… I was not…

It depressed me before just on the principal that it seemed unattainable, but now… I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to be human at all. If I were human, would I want to wage wars as well? If I were human, would I hurt the trees outside? If I were human…

But I'm not human.

…

"When… you wish… upon a star…" I sang to myself quietly. My voice was severely disused and awkward. "Makes… no difference… who you are…"

The puppet-boy, Pinocchio, was like me. A creation made of inanimate objects somehow given life.

"Anything… your heart… desires…"

Did he hurt others afterwards? Did he wage war? Did he destroy others?

"Will… come… to… you…"

When he became a real boy… when he became human… did he hurt? Did he hurt others?

Are all humans harmful to each other?

Are my humans?

No. It couldn't be. Mother, Father, Sis, and Matt are all such wonderful people. They may do… questionable things from time to time, but they don't seem evil. They don't hurt others.

They shouldn't hurt others… do they?

*CRASH!*

I was startled out of my thoughts. It was dark, very dark, and no one would be up by then. I stayed silent as I strained my ears to hear more.

From the murmuring I heard below me, I guessed Mother and Father heard it as well. A few minutes passed and I grew impatient.

Suddenly, there was a lot of commotion below. Someone new was shouting loudly while I could hear Mother crying. Several more crashes were heard as well as some grunting and yelling. Then, it went mostly silent save for some murmuring bleeding through the house.

I tiptoed downstairs to see what exactly had happened.

An unknown man was standing in the Living Room with a crowbar in one hand. Furniture had been upturned and broken. The coffee table's glass top was smashed. Mother was in the kitchen shielding Matt and Sis from the intruder.

Father was leaning against a wall, his head was leaking a bright red blood from a bump on his forehead, but he was still groaning and shifting. It unnerved me. Crime Tee Vee was much less… real than the blood now splattered across his face and the wall.

The man pulled out a shiny, black object and pointed it directly at Mother. A gun! He told them to get in the Living room and stay in a corner spot

Mother, Sis, and Matt all slowly walked to the corner, not taking their eyes off of the sleek, black gun. The man addressed them, "Now, that everybody here? Kay? No one else in the house."

I assessed this. This was my chance! My chance to join and help!

"No, I'm here." I answered calmly.

Mother gasped as I showed myself. The only light came from the faint streetlight through the window, so my shadow was in front of me, silhouetting my figure. The man pointed the weapon at me and motioned the end of it towards the corner with Matt and Sis.

I considered this, but had another possibility. I am not human. A human would probably fight the unknown man like Father did. However, I cannot help if I am in a corner with Mother, Sis, and Matt. I will try a new way. My own way.

"My name is Shiloh, what's yours?"

The man's face scrunched in confusion. "What the hell? Look, doll, just get in the f*cking corner, alright?" Doll. How ironic.

"Why?"

"Because I've got a gun pointed at you and I'm robbing the place."

"Why?"

"What are you, retarded?! Because I need the money!"

"Why?" That wasn't to annoy him. That was an honest question. What is the purpose of money, aside from something people murder for during will readings or steal and hide in vaults? I was curious.

"Because… because… I just do! Debts! Gambling! Sex! Drugs! I don't care! Now get in the f*cking corner!"

"Why?"

*BANG!*

I stumbled a bit as I feel something suddenly hit me in my abdomen. I looked down and see a hole through my chest, a small bit of stuffing burnt from the heat of the bullet. It actually felt… unpleasant.

I looked back at the man, "That was not nice."

The robber looked between me and the object in his hand and at the wound in my chest letting light from behind pass through. He leaned over slowly, the gleaming gun still pointed at me and flipped on the kitchen light.

"OH MY GOD!" Mother screamed.

Father was awake and staring at me, mumbling about "stuffing" and "not alive". Sis and Matt were holding each other protectively, both staring at me apprehensively.

The man looked at the hole in my chest and his eyes drifted between my stitches. In one swift motion, he yanked Matt out of Sis's arms and pointed the gun to his head. Mother was sobbing as was Sis. Father was too dazed.

Matt would die. What a horrible man. What a horrible… human.

"Now listen here, freak. Just get in the corner and no one gets hurt. Understand?" His hand trembled dangerously. I discretely moved several threads along the floor towards him.

"You are a danger to Matt." I stated. "Guns are dangerous. I can't allow that."

"Wha-?"

The threads suddenly tightened and the gun hammer jammed before the entire thing was ripped from the man's hands. Matt saw the opportunity and scrambled back to Sis and Mother in the corner.

A rather large upholstery needle was manipulated by my strings from the small store I keep protected in my wooden ribcage. The sharp needle impaled the man's arm in a non-vital location, but the man still shouted in pain.

I dragged him into the dining room, separate from the living room by a wall. I took out the shears I kept safely in my torso. The man was panicking and trying to take out the large needle buried in him.

"You hurt my family… human." I whispered, raising the shiny shears.

The job was quickly done.

I returned to the room. I was pleased. The family had seen me active! They saw how good I was! Now they could be with me and accept me! I'd be in the family. I would be their daughter.

When I got back, I found that Father had arranged them all facing away from the back entry door with it slightly opened while pressing against it as far from myself as possible. Father stood in front holding a shotgun he'd hidden behind the bookcase. Mother was talking frantically on the phone. She cast a trembling glance at me before whispering more hurriedly into the device.

I raised my arm in greeting and was surprised as the shotgun in Father's hands went off and blew plaster dust all over me just over my shoulder. They looked at me with the same expression Matt had when he was trying to get me to move.

They were scared.

They were scared of me.

I wanted to be a part of their life! I just wanted them to approve of me! I wanted them to accept me! I trusted them! I saved them!

I felt this acidic burning in my chest. A foreign feeling of anger and objection.

I did the human thing and eradicated the threat to save their lives. I hurt him to save them and they still tried to kill me before I could even explain!

I just wanted to be a part of their life!

I just wanted that!

And they're trying to hurt me!

They were just… humans!

I had to maneuver quickly to avoid the next shotgun blast aimed at my torso this time. I slipped into the hallway and out the front door.

Red and blue flashes with strong, bright lights assaulted my vision. I held up a hand against them and saw police cruisers and men in blue pointing more guns at me!

More guns!

Why guns!?

"Remain where you are! Do not move! We have you completely surrounded!" An amplified voice shouted.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw people leaving the houses far away and moving closer to get a view. They were "neighbors". They were all the same. Human!

Why can't I just be with them!? Why won't they let me in!? Or at least leave me alone!

The officers were stunned as they saw me, but their grips just tightened on their guns, eager to shoot what they didn't know. I heard one man's voice echo through the tension about capturing me.

I became angry. My threads began to shift silently in the grass under the men's feet. One of the uniformed men broke off from the wall towards me, silvery rings on a chain open. Handcuffs.

Admittedly, despite my earlier enthusiasm, I was unwilling to 'come quietly'.

When he got close, I activated the tripwire!

He stumbled over and my threads tossed him back into the fray. The automobiles were shifted out of the way and the men around them were tossed to the side. I used the furthest threads anchored in the trees behind them to pull me away faster than the others can react to shoot me again.

I reached across the barricade of cars and men and quickly began running. I heard shouts and sirens as the men reassembled themselves and began chasing after me.

I heard loud barking in the distance and I could guess they were using the K-9 Unit they used for criminals in pursuit. I remember the dog has "excellent smell". Whatever "smell" is.

As I ran down the road, a black and white car pulled up and passed me before shooting ahead and forming another barrier at the road. I used my threads and quickly yanked myself away from the fray. I ended up in the middle of the forests.

I ran past the trees, occasionally shooting my threads out to get a higher vantage point and propel myself faster and further from the chase.

The sounds of barking and shouting got further and further away until they became a quiet echo in the distance. I found a small clearing in the midst of all of the trees.

A stone was stuck in the ground in the middle of that clearing and I sat on it quietly. The moon let down a filtered blue-white light on everything. I recognized the feeling of "sadness", but I couldn't convey exactly why I felt as though my throat was closed up.

I had no throat in the first place.

My mind was modeled after a human, but without the human anatomy to supply it, I can't help but feel like something is missing from myself. As I leafed through Gray's Anatomy, that became very blindingly obvious.

I was alone now.

No creator.

No family.

No attic.

I was finally outside the house, my one biggest wish.

I was free.

But alone.

As I sat in the quiet and dark, I remembered the words to another song. For the second time that night, I quietly sang.

"I have… no… strings… to hold. Me. Down."

My threads moved quietly around me to form crude marionette strings on my hands and head and feet.

"To make. Me. Fret…. Or Make. Me. Frown.

"I had strings… but now… I'm… Free…"

The threads fell limp around me, as though I was suddenly cut off from the puppetmaster. I let them lay in the dirt as I thought.

Free.

What is freedom?

What does it mean to be free?

How am I free from anything if I'm now lost and alone?

What good is freedom if it becomes painful?

I was alone. I needed to move on. I needed to find someone to take me in.

A flutter of blue caught my attention. I looked up and saw the fragile paper-like wings of a "butterfly" flapping towards me. I hadn't seen it since my first view of the "window". A smile graced my face at its serenity and reminded me of my first notion of where the butterfly went.

I held out my hand, inhumanly still, and the butterfly landed on my index finger, quietly whipping its thread-like tongue out to tap against my synthetic skin. I was not human, but the butterfly accepted me.

I smiled quietly.

I slowly held it up in the light-

…

My focus shifted behind it.

A figure was standing in the darkness of the woods. I didn't know him, obviously, but he couldn't have been human. Gray's Anatomy, the Television, the books all depicted people with faces and eyes and mouths.

This man had none. He was too tall. His skin was too unnaturally pale. He was not a horrible human.

My dear.

I was startled out of my thoughts. A voice, a male voice, resonated in my head! I clamped my hands around the skull support inside, trying to block it out.

My dear, don't be afraid.

I lowered my hands slowly. The voice didn't resonate quite as bad anymore. I looked up at the figure and saw that he was now walking towards me. He knelt down on the ground, using his long arms to balance his disproportionate body.

I'm here to offer a choice.

"A… a choice?"

My voice was quiet, faint, and whispery from relative disuse. This night I'd spoken more than I had in the past few months.

A choice.

Free will.

Freedom.

Or was it?

Yes, a choice. We heard about you from an obscure blog on the internet. We came as soon as we heard there was an incident. I remained silent as the figure continued. I'm here to offer a choice for you. I know a place where we can take in those such as yourself. You will be safe there, if you choose. However, if you would prefer, we also have many quiet houses far away from people where you may live quietly.

He held out a pale hand palm-side-up in offering.

I hesitated.

I could go somewhere far away. I'd never have to deal with those terrible humans again! I'd be as free as I choose. I can do as many sewing projects as I would like without them being taken away or shunned.

But I would be alone.

I could go with him. I could learn from this place. I could be safe from the humans and the guns and the experiments. I wouldn't be completely free, but I would have others.

I would not be alone.

I slowly put my hand in his. He stood up quietly and began walking towards the treeline.

I smiled.

I had made a choice.

"There are no strings on me."

A whisper of wind later, the two were gone. And by the time the dogs and police arrived, nothing was left but a few footprints leading to nowhere at all.

AN:

*click*

*This is a pre-recorded message from: 'oh, do I say it now… um, Crow'. The person you are trying to contact is unavailable at the moment, but has left this pre-recorded message for your convenience. Thank you.*

"Hey everybody, if this is playing, I've probably decided to use the OC designs I created and had, er, complications. Don't worry, I'll be fine… probably. Anyway, on to the AN:

I modeled Shiloh after my own philosophical nature. Questioning humanity from an inhuman creature that has notions of self-awareness, but a complete lack of all normal things associated with "life". What is war? What is freedom? What is slavery? Why do we hurt others intentionally or otherwise? Can you go through life as an island?

She's also heavily influenced by one of my favorite directors; Tim Burton. I really liked "Nightmare Before Christmas". My brother, sister, and I would watch it every October before Halloween as a tradition when we were kids.

I know the police would probably take Shiloh away in an evidence bag, but for now let's just assume they overlooked her. Okay?

And finally, yes that one obscene comment was a nod towards the "Elder Swear" from the Potter Puppet Pals. It was just to poke fun at Troll comments that pop up without any meaning to their existence.

Thank you for enjoying the chapter.

Sincerely,

Crow"

*End of Recording*

*click*

Poll so far (3/13/16)

I was honestly surprised how many people approved "Lamp Eyes"

I recently discovered the "Polls" tab on my site. I was thinking that this could be the "preliminaries" for gathering the most popular of the names/weapons. Then, before I post the next chapter, I'll try to set up the poll with the top picks, because (honestly) I found it's a bit confusing and bothersome to go through everyone's PMs and reviews to tally up choices.

…

Weapons

Magic AK-47 (this was actually a joke when I first suggested it, I felt it'd be too OP... this early in the story *wink*): 1

Wires/jump cables in tandem with BRVR: 1

Hallucinagenic cloud: 1

Hakujin no tachi: 1

Urumi: 1

Hakujin no tachi: 1

Hatchet: 1

Razor: 1

Large scissors: 1

Knives: 1

Monstrous assembly of Death (Inspired by Krieg's Buzz Axe PM): 1

Scalpels: 1

…

…

Names

Cain/Kane: 3

Shadow: 3

Scath: 6

Ghost/Puca/Sanctus: 3

Lamp-Eyes: 4

Lampo-Okuloj ("Lamp Eyes" or "One who hopes" in Esperanto): 1

Tenebris: 3

Haze: 1

Hikaru ("glow"): 1

Bolt: 1

Slash: 1

Stalker (kind of taken by the guy in London): 1

A combination of "Dark Shadow": 1

A combination of "Green Darkness": 2

A combination of "Green shadow": 2

Lamb/Agnus/Uaineoil/Cit-Oen/Lambaz/Becard: 1

…

Sorry to DarkBlur2005, but "Umbra" is too close to "Umbridge", but I put you down for "Shadow".

…

Thank you to everyone who's submitted names. I will be closing the ability to "nominate" weapons and names at the next chapter update (Monday, March 21st, 2016) so I can start the polls for at least a chapter's worth of time, possibly two depending how things shape up.

Thanks to everyone who voted!

-Crow