Prologue*
Stars.
Stars were the things of wishes and childlike hope. Of worlds beyond this one.
Of course, it would be the stars that told her this place was dying.
She watched through the house's attic window. Her night sky lacked depth. The stars above her house flickered like holes in fabric, moving with a breeze.
She ran a finger along the window ledge, her nails drawing impatient claw lines in the creaking wood.
No. She could be patient. She was just anxious. Anxious because her dreams were showing her things, telling her another family was coming… soon… soon…
She almost would've missed the breeze and the real night sky. The sun and stars… She had given up the real night sky for power over this place.
She was a maker. An artist. A creator.
She waited by the attic window, knowing 'soon' was coming closer and closer… But it was taking a long time to arrive this time.
The attic window had been closed for years. But then… for the first time in decades, a breeze tugged and pushed the windowpanes open.
Excitement pulsed in her veins. She stood up to meet it. Her hand, made entirely of silver sewing needles, came to the window that opened on its own. A breeze drifted the lacey curtains. Outside the window, a figure drifted closer and closer, floating on the breeze…
A doll.
Her masterful hands had made this one a long time ago. It had been much too long. So long, the dreams told her the clothes and style of today had changed yet again.
She was very eager to get started.
The doll floated through the window to her, landing like a leaf in her needle hands. She gently took the doll and set it down on a dusty work desk. With a flick of her finger, a pamphlet of tools opened on the desk, like a sigh of relief. Rows of fine scissors and pilers and tweezers and hooks aligned the table in perfect order.
She set the doll in the middle, surrounded by the tools.
First, she turned the doll over and used a large pair of scissors to cut away the back of the doll's dress. A pink flapper dress with a skirt that ended at the knees. Once the doll was undressed, she plucked at the ribbons and the black yarn, emulating hair on the doll's head. One by one, unraveling the stitching of cornrows on the doll's head, until all the wefts of yarn were pulled away.
The doll bald and naked, she hooked under the thread securing the button eyes to its face. It didn't take much force to cut the thread. With her other two fingers, she lifted the old buttons away.
With a thread cutter, she stabbed through the side of the doll's face and sliced through the row of stiches across the doll's mouth, parting them to reveal the old, white cotton inside.
No, no. Cotton won't do anymore. Sand will be better.
She held the doll upside down by its ankles and pinched the white cotton stuffed in its mouth, pulling it out of its body. After some resistance, the pieces came out nicely and compliant. Without the cotton inside, the doll's skin sagged limply like an empty bag.
Her hand reached into the mouth, its scraped empty insides fitting like a glove over her hand, then pulled the doll inside out. Compared to the darker brown outside, the inside of the doll's skin looked newer. Paler. Perfect for the child she had in mind.
The maker always knew who was destined to come into her web. It had always been that way. But this time was different. She leaned over the desk and tapped a finger on the table, thinking…
Her vision became clearer now. There would be many children in the house. At least four.
This excited her at first, but she could feel the taste of them, like the smell of slightly overripe fruit. Each of them so uniquely sweet her tongue tingled. Almost too sweet.
Teenagers.
She almost scoffed at this, however, one of them, the youngest, wasn't quite thirteen yet. This child would be the ripest of the lot. And the loneliest.
She smirked, tapping her needle finger on the desk.
Every family was different. Every child unique. But the family this child had… was disjointed somehow…
Hmm… how interesting…
This family might be much too large to replicate. She couldn't afford to spread her waning powers too thin… She would have to be selective… But she somehow sensed that wouldn't be a problem.
She would have to wait and see…
Picking up a bucket, she held the doll like a baby, supporting its neck, then poured sand into the new doll's open mouth. Its stomach and limbs inflated as it filled with sand, helplessly. Once the sand was up to the doll's neck, she stopped pouring and stuffed the head full of wood shavings until the head couldn't fit anymore.
Now for one of her favorite parts.
She laid the doll on the desk again and took out a small bone needle from a pin cushion. She threaded the hole of it with matching skin-colored thread. Painstakingly, stitch by stitch, she started to sew the edges of the mouth closed, nice and tight.
But before she could close the mouth the entire way, she needed to add something first.
Backing away from the desk, her needle fingers pinched a tiny knob and opened a long, flat drawer underneath. Inside, rows upon rows of matching button pairs were separated into slots. She gazed over the slots, her fingers drifting and dancing in the air until she found the pair she was looking for.
Black, but with a hint of pale blue in the light.
She placed the buttons flesh against the face, and very carefully, poked the bone needle through the buttonholes. Over and over, she threaded the buttonholes until they were secure to the face.
With hooks and pilers, she attached fresh, bright blue yarn through the weft head holes for the hair. She decided to keep the yarn long, only cutting a few pieces shorter at the chin and ears. Then wove the length together in one braid.
Then she moved onto the clothes. This child was the first girl she had seen to wear pants. And, more interesting, a coat made to repel water…
She threaded her sewing machine with a spool of yellow thread. She laid yellow fabric out and drew the pattern in her head. Then she took the scissors again to smoothly cut the pieces out.
She took the pieces and pinned them together. The cobwebs on her sewing machine were pushed aside as she turned the wheel of her machine and pushed the treadle on the floor to keep the needle moving. She pushed the yellow fabric underneath, watching the feed dog keep the fabric flat and aligned to where the stitching should be.
And after a few more details were added, the doll was finally complete.
With black button eyes, bright blue hair that wove into a braid, a purple and magenta striped shirt, denim pants, and a yellow raincoat with matching yellow boots. What a precious child…
She stroked the doll's blue hair once more before pinning a tiny dragonfly clip to the side of her head. Then she held the new doll to the window and released it. It floated on the breeze, out of the window, further and further into the starry night sky.
The attic window closed. Now, all she had to do was wait…
