Living Doll Boyfriend: Lancelot #1 (complete)

    I was made to take care of the furnace and clean the chimneys, just a tool for the house so that it could be kept clean and neat. I was never allowed to go outside, except to the roof when the chimneys were to be swept. I had lived with the same family all my life, and for me, that was all I needed in the world. I was happy where I was, at least, because it was all I knew.

    Then, one day, I fell from the stairs. The young boy of the house pushed me, thinking it would be some clever trick. That was the beginning of the cracks, and I tried to hide them as best as I could. I used my hair to cover them or hats somedays. But the cracks began to grow and, over time, some of my face chipped away. The more the cracks grew, the less the family seemed to take care of me.

    Dolls are meant to be pretty and perfect, that’s their role. They’re supposed to be lovely, but I was no longer these things. As the cracks and chips became all anyone could see of me, I was given less clothes, I wasn’t cleaned as much. I soon became caked in soot and ash. The rosy tint of my cheeks could no longer be seen. My long lashes were falling away. I could no longer tell if I was smiling as the paint of my lips had faded away.

    I was tossed out. My family took me out and left me near the dump. For a while, I thought they might realize their mistakes and come back to get me. I waited by the gates of the dump night after night, hoping to see them return.

    “Either get in or go, sweets,” the garbage man says to me. “You can’t keep standing there, you’re scaring people away.”

    I tug my hat low and leave. Even someone who deals with garbage all day didn’t want to look at me. I run away from there, going into the city, where the streets are crowded and littered. I’m not sure where to go or what to do, all I’ve ever known is the house.

    I see people on the street performing music and people toss coins into their hats. I watch for a moment, listening to their songs. If I could do something like that, then maybe I could earn some money too, enough money to even get my face fixed! Then my family would take me back!

    I used to sketch in the ashes of the fireplaces. I would draw things for the boy and girl of the house and loved how happy they would get. I find paper in the trash and smooth it out. I also find an old pencil outside a building in the mud, so after I wash it off, I am able to sketch. I try to sell the drawing I did, but no one seems interested. 

    “Here you go, kid.” One of the women who had been singing hands me some coin. “Go get yourself some chalk. If you go to the park and draw on the sidewalks, it’ll be easier.”

    “Oh, wow!” I gasp. “Thank you! This is so kind.”

    She walks away before I can properly thank her. I rush to the nearest store, buying a pack of colorful chalk like she said. The park is busy, full of people and children. I find a nice spot where the sun shines through the trees, and start to draw. A small crowd gathers and I am able to make a few coin.

    Unfortunately, some big kids come around and start bullying me. They push me over, break my chalk, and mess up my drawing. I run away, terrified and scared, clutching what remains of the brand new chalk I just purchased.

    I find an old soup can to keep the chalk in and I wander away. I sit down on a bench somewhere in the city and look down into the can. I touch each remaining piece of chalk, just grateful to have it.

    I will use the chalk by the end of the week, making enough money to buy more. I am too afraid to go into the park again, in case those big bullies are there. I have to settle for a corner adjacent to the park. I work there for weeks, trying to build up enough money. I use some of the money to buy myself a mask at the toy store. It covers up my ugly, broken face and it seems to help not scare people.

    One day, I notice a man putting up posters around the city. They are big and brightly colored, advertising a carnival that is coming. “Mr. Faire’s Children of the Night Carnival,” it reads. “Fun for all ages. We have games, spectacles, fantasy, and a place to forget your woes.”

    It sounds wonderful, but too special a place for the likes of me. How can I ever go there the way I look? I have so many woes I long to forget, but it seems like such an impossible dream for me. 

    That night, the horizon sparkles with the lights of the carnival. I find myself standing outside the gates as I watch happy people go in and out of the entrance. I take out the money I have, counting out enough coin to purchase a ticket.

    “Have fun in there! The show with Lancelot is about to begin, you don’t want to miss that,” the chipper lady at the ticket counter says.

    I wander into the carnival, finding myself surrounded by lights and spectacles I have never seen before. There are clowns wandering about, handing out free balloons. They give me one, tying it to my wrist. 

    I find myself in the main tent, sitting myself at the back of the audience as the lights go down low and a stage light focuses on the center. There is a man there, tall and broad of shoulder. He grins into the crowd and flourishes out his top hat. 

    “I am the one, the only, Mr. Faire!” He announces loudly and the crowd erupts into applause.

    “Tonight,” Mr. Faire reaches into his hat, “we shall begin our evening with a most magical of show.” His arm disappears completely into the hat, all the way up to his shoulder!

    I lean forward in anticipation, trying to see what sort of trick he is pulling.

    “Tonight, I present to you the amazing, the glorious, the acrobat of the century!” He rips his arm out of the hat as streamers and confetti follow. All of it is blue and gold, and it spills out and explodes, filling the entire stage so that all I can see is a glittery confection. 

    “Lancelot Renaissance!” Mr. Faire cheers as the stage lights turn blue.

    The confetti and streamers fall and, suspended above the stage, poised like an angel, is a tall and elegant figure. He has long blonde hair tied back in a thick braid. He’s wearing old fashioned clothes so that he looks like he’s from a beautiful painting. 

    Music starts and he moves, changing his position on the swing. He stretches out his legs and moves his arms dramatically. He then twirls, spinning around on the swing until he falls. I gasp and cover my eyes, but then the crowd applauds. I look through my fingers, seeing him hanging from the swing by one leg.

    He rises and falls again. Grasping to the ribbons of the swing, he glides down onto the stage, where he lands in a split. His body goes limp for a moment and dancers appear on stage. They look small, like children. They dance about Lancelot until he rises up. He swirls and spins around them, bending backward and flipping across the stage.

    I’m stunned and awed by him. His body moves so elegantly, I can barely contain myself. He moves as if the world around him doesn’t matter. Even in the blue lights of the stage, his face is pure beauty itself. 

    As the performance ends and the stage lights glow again, I see his beautiful smile and I melt. Someone like me does not deserve to look at someone as beautiful as he is. Yet, I am already enamored by the way he moves and carries himself. I want to see more.

    The next night, I do not have enough money for another ticket, even though I worked myself to the bone trying to earn enough coin to return. I sneak back to the carnival, though, and walk around the fence. I climb up it, used to such things when I cleaned the chimney. I slip down behind the tents, hoping to tiptoe my way around. But I trip on a rope and topple, falling into a tent and crashing down. A bucket falls over my head and a rack of clothing falls on top of me.

    “Who goes there?” A deep voice booms. 

    “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” I try to scramble free, but I am trapped between a rack and a damp place. 

    The clothes are ripped away from me and I am left sitting there with a bucket hanging over my head. “Who are you?” He asks again.

    From below the bucket, I can see his feet. They’re bare and look like mine. They’re porcelain and the toes are pointed, each nail lightly painted a pale, bright pink. 

    “I’m sorry! Please! I just wanted to see the show one more time before it went away. I had to. I just-I’ll do anything to repay! I just wanted to see Lancelot again.”

    He stills and goes quiet. “Lancelot, you say?”

    I hang my head, even if it’s still in the bucket. “I used what money I had last night and came. I watched his performance and, while I felt unworthy, it made me feel so special and I just had to see him again.”

    “Why would you think yourself unworthy?” He asks me. “Seems rather silly. Especially since you just tried to break into the carnival.”

    “I know!” I whimper. “I’m so sorry. Please. I’ll leave and never come back. Just don’t tell Lancelot about this! I don’t want him to laugh at me.”

    “Lancelot would never do such a thing.” The bucket is taken from my head. “He knows a thing or two about not feeling worthy.”

    I look up, rubbing my eyes at the bright lights. Standing above me is a tall and lithe figure. His bright blue eyes shine brilliantly and his messy blonde hair hangs in his face.

    I gasp and try to grab the bucket from him to hide myself again. “I’m so sorry! Lancelot! I’m so sorry!”

    He pulls the bucket back. “It’s alright. Shh-” he presses his finger to his lips. “Be quiet. You don’t want to get caught, do you?”

    I cup my hands around my mouth and keep my head ducked. “Sorry.”

    Lancelot looks me over. His hair isn’t as long as it was last night, but it’s still beautiful. I glance to his hand, seeing each finger is ball jointed like mine. I gasp softly as he brushes my hair from my face.

    “You’re hurt,” he whispers.

    “No, I’m-” I pull away from him. “I’m fine really. I’m just-.” I trace down a crack on my face. “These aren’t new.”

    “Oh,” he murmurs. “I’m so sorry.”

    “You’re a Doll too.” I look up at him, admiring how perfect his porcelain is. “But the way you dance! And you start the act so high above the stage too! Aren’t you afraid you’ll crack?”

    Lancelot helps me to my feet. “It’s a long story,” he replies. “But I have to get ready for the next performance. I also have to deal with someone who has snuck in.”

    I duck my head down. “I’ll leave! Promise!”

    Lancelot chuckles. “You should stay,” he says. He takes a mask off the wall, one with a checkered face and blue feathers all around it. “Here.” He slides it onto my face. “If you go backstage, no one will think twice.”

    “Why are you being so nice?” I murmur lowly.

    “I’m sorry that’s even a question you feel you have to ask.” He takes hold of my hand and leads me away. We walk through the carnival, and I duck and flinch at everyone I see. Once we get backstage, all the little dancers come racing to him. 

    They all look nearly identical, all the same pale faces with rosy cheeks and brown eyes. They have black hair cut in different styles. Each of them wears a different outfit that makes them look like an animal. 

    “Are you ready, brother?” One asks.

    “We’ve got everything ready!” Another sings.

    “Come on, we’ll get you set up.”

“One second, everyone,” Lancelot whispers. He kneels down to look at them all face to face. “This is my friend, oh, uhm-” he hesitates and glances up to me. “What’s your name?”

“Emberlie,” my voice squeaks.

Lancelot smiles. “This is Emberlie. Now, can you all keep a secret?” He asks.

The little ones nod and clap excitedly as Lancelot whispers to them. They all giggle and scatter, and one takes hold of my hand.

“This way, Ms. Emberlie, you can watch with me from backstage.” As he walks, I notice he has a limp. “My name is Ollie,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you.” he then climbs up onto a chair behind a set of rigs and levers. “I take care of the stage and props for Lancelot.” Ollie then takes off a mask and his face looks like a small fox.

I gasp and Ollie giggles. “You seem surprised.”

“I must say I am,” I gently rub the top of his head. “What is this place?”

“Mr. Faire takes in creatures of all sorts who have no place to go.” Ollie then lifts up his leg, showing me that his paw is missing. “He rescued me and my siblings from furriers.”

“So,” I glance around. “Everyone in this carnival is some sort of...monster or spirit?” I ask in awe. 

“Pretty much,” Ollie chuckles. “Lancelot has been with Mr. Faire for such a long time, he’s like our big brother.”

I clam up and freeze as Mr. Faire suddenly appears next to Ollie. I duck back behind the little fox as he starts adjusting levers on the switchboard.

“You ready for the show, my Ollie?” Mr. Faire asks as he dusts off his hat. 

“As always, Mr. Faire!” Ollie cheers.

Mr. Faire turns and looks directly at me, and I clutch the mask tight to my face, afraid that he can see right through me. His eyes narrow and his expression pinches as he tries to read who I am.

“Mr. Faire!” Ollie sits up and saves me. “Hurry! The music!”

Mr. Faire lurches. “By joves! My cue!” He rushes out on stage, performing his entrance same as the night before.

Ollie turns and looks up at me. “It’s ok, Ms. Emberlie. We promised Lancelot to keep you secret.”

I sigh with relief. “Thank you, Ollie. You’re so sweet.”

Ollie then suddenly jumps up as the confetti and streamers come from Mr. Faire’s hat. More pour down from the rafters and, as I look up, I see Lancelot posed and waiting on his swing. I step forward and Ollie pushes another rig that slowly sends Lancelot down into the view of the audience. I’m so enraptured by watching him, I get caught up in the wave of little dancers who are actually animals.

In trying not to trip and fall, I accidentally am pushed out on stage. The animals continue their dance, but as Lancelot rises, he catches me before I race off stage. He grabs me, holding me close and he lifts me up into the air. He spins me around and bends me backward.

I’m swept away, easily moved by his skilled hands and beauty. As we dance, I forget the world beyond us exists. I am fooled into believing I am in a fantasy world, and it is broken by the applause of the audience. 

I try to run away, but Lancelot has me join them for the bow. As the curtains close, Lancelot grins and squeezes my hand. “You did wonderful!”

“Did I?” I’m shaking, I’m so nervous. “I didn’t mean to come on stage! I got in everyone’s way. I didn’t mean to.”

“Didn’t you see how excited everyone was?” Lancelot grins at me. “I haven’t felt so alive on stage in ages.”

“Really?” My hands are still trembling as Lancelot holds them.

“Who are you, Emberlie?” Lancelot shakes his head.

“I’m-” I see Mr. Faire coming backstage. As Lancelot turns to greet him, I make myself disappear. I follow the little animals away and find myself outside the tent. 

“Where are you going, Ms. Emberlie?” A little rabbit missing her front paw asks. “Don’t you want to stay?”

“I don’t belong here.” I take off the beautiful mask Lancelot gave me. “Lancelot could get into trouble if I stay around.”

All the little animals whisper amongst each other. “We’ll keep you hidden!” One then announces. 

“There aren’t any other dolls here like Lancelot,” the rabbit squeaks. “You’re the only one.”

I clutch the mask dearly. “Yes, but...I’m far from being anything like Lancelot.”

The animals drag me along, taking me into a tent filled with tiny little hammocks hanging along the walls between the beams. They sit me down on a large pillow and make me wait there. They come back with blankets and some clean clothes. After I change, they tuck me in. And for the first time in many nights, I sleep with a pillow under my head and somewhere warm and safe. 

“We have to keep her here for Lancelot’s sake!” I hear voices whispering and begin to wake up slowly.

“How will we keep her hidden? Mr. Faire may not like us keeping a stowaway.”

“This is for Lancelot!” I hear Ollie. “Screw Mr. Faire and his new rules.”

All the small animals gasp in shock.

“Just because he says we can’t afford anything new right now doesn’t mean we can turn someone away,” Ollie continues. “Lancelot deserves a friend like himself.”

The animals cheer and I sit up from the pillow. They all rush around me, helping me get up. They tell me to stay quiet and, after awhile, they sneak me back to Lancelot’s tent. Lancelot is still asleep as I tiptoe into his quarters. His soft blonde hair hangs around his face and he looks so peaceful and serene.

“Lancelot!” Ollie and the other animals jump onto the bed. “Wake up!”

Lancelot laughs and sits up as the little animals climb all over him. “Good morning, everyone.” He then looks at me and I quickly duck my head down. “And a very special morning it is. You’re still here.”

I fidget in place, not sure what to say or do.

“We hid her!” Ollie cheers. “That way you could have your very own special friend here.”

“I can see that.” Lancelot sits up from bed, wearing only a baby blue dressing robe. “Well, I am glad to see you, Ms. Emberlie. For a moment, it felt like a fairy tale.”

“What?” I gasp. Out of all the things to describe me, fairy tale would not be one of them.

Lancelot takes out the mask from last night. I must have dropped it when the little animals had rushed me away. “I found this on the ground. I thought I’d never get to dance with you again.”

“Oh,” I murmur as my heart threatens to finish breaking me into pieces. “You can find others to dance with, I’m sure.”

All the little animals start fussing and squeaking. 

“Have all of you gone to go eat?” Lancelot fusses. “Go get breakfast before I force feed every single one of you.” He shoos them all out of his tent, then turns and smiles at me. 

He’s so beautiful, I can barely stand it. Meanwhile, I am hideous and broken, something that doesn’t deserve the light radiating from his beautiful eyes. I haven’t looked at my face in so long, I can’t even recall what color my eyes are. I just remember that because of all the ash and soot, my face is gray and black, my paint is all smudged, and my lips look perpetually in a frown.

Lancelot reaches out, touching my face and smoothing his fingers along my cheek. His hand doesn’t have the same feel as my porcelain does. He feels softer and smoother somehow.

“Come here, let me wipe all that mess from your face.” His voice is gentle and soft, but I recoil from him anyway.

I cup my hands around my face. “No. It’s ok. You’ll only get dirty too.”

Lancelot tilts his head and furrows his brow. “Then I will simply wash.” He goes over to his vanity, where he has a pitcher and basin. He fills it and dampens a rag. “Now, come here, I want to see you.”

I start to tremble again. I don’t want him to see me. The ash and soot camouflage all the cracks and chips. If he washes off my face, he will see how truly awful I am beneath. 

“When I was first made,” Lancelot says softly as he touches the cool rag to my cheek, “I was used to fetch things from the tops of trees. Mistletoe, moss, fungus, anything of the like.” He gently wipes my cheek. “I used to get very, very dirty. And sometimes I didn’t wash for many days. One time for a whole month!” He chuckles.

“Why do you feel so different?” I murmur, hoping to change the subject. “Your porcelain feels so silky and soft.”

“I was made so I would not break.” Lancelot’s fingers glide along a crack at my temple. “A special material which makes me flexible and indestructible. I outlived my maker and Mr. Faire took me in.” Lancelot then lets out a low gasp that makes me want to hide and run away. Surely by now, he has seen the fractured hideousness of my face.

Lancelot’s finger brushes against my bottom lip. “Much better.”

I cover my face with my palms. “How can that be possible?” I whimper. “You see now why I kept myself so dirty. I’m awful! I’m a Doll who should be destroyed.”

Lancelot places a soft kiss on my forehead as his gentle hands wrap around my wrists. “Don’t say such things.” He takes my hair and ties it back. “You are not beyond repair and you are not awful,” he scolds me. 

I sniffle and keep my chin tucked down. “I wish I was as beautiful as you.”

“Who says what beauty is?” Lancelot’s fingers slip under my chin and he makes me lift my eyes. “Beauty is different to each set of eyes. So you cannot say what is beautiful to everyone.” He smiles at me. “I believe there is a reason you fell into my tent, Ms. Emberlie.”

“You do?” I murmur. “Why is that?”

“Fate,” he grins. “What else could it be that has brought us together? As unlikely as it is that we were in the same town at the same time. That you saw my show. Then you fell into my tent. When you look at the pieces all individually, it seems like such a miracle, doesn’t it?”

“I, uhm-” I fidget and twist my fingers together. “It does sound very unbelievable when you put it like that.”

“That’s because it is fate.” Lancelot clutches both of my hands and holds them fast. “You and I were always destined to meet, Ms. Emberlie. Don’t you want to find out why?”

I gaze into his magnificent blue eyes, lost and transported to that fantasy world from last night when we danced. “Of course I do,” I whisper.

Lancelot grins and pulls me into a warm hug.