Living Doll Mournine (complete)

    I remember the sound of my eyes rolling and clicking on the cold marble floor. In an instant, I was blind, deaf, and mute, cut off from the world and locked into myself. I felt so strongly that it was overwhelming. I was suffocated in my silence, in grief like a wet quilt, bound up in that muffled prison for what felt like an eternity. 

    Then I blinked and stared into the bright lights. I took a long look around me, seeing Iaso standing nearby as she put out the burner. There was gold on her gloves and apron, and I could smell something burning. I touched my face and trailed my fingers down the cracks. The gold was still solidifying, so bits of glitter and gold stuck to the tips.

    Iaso told me I was found packed up in a large shipping chest. My broken pieces tied into a velvet bag, but my eyes had gone missing. So staring into the mirror that first time was quite a shock. Although, to be honest, I couldn’t quite remember what I looked like before. My eye color now was mismatched brown and green, but before? I couldn’t recall, I just know it wasn’t this at all. Were they blue? Gray? No clue. All I knew was what Iaso told me.

    Iaso fixed me and promised me Midas would come back for me soon. I wasn’t sure who Midas was, either. All my memories were buried when I broke my face. The grief and silence I was suffocated in kept me from remembering my life and what my fate was meant to be. All I had was the pocket watch, reminding me there was someone I was supposed to be missing. Her hair was inside, and even if I couldn’t remember who ‘she’ was, I could feel that grief again.

    Iaso had given me the pocket watch and asked me not to linger too long on it. “Old memories are gone. New ones are yet to come. Clinging to the past like a raft won’t keep you safe for long, just keep you from drowning. There’s a ship coming that’ll do the real saving.”

    Iaso always talked like that, sort of strange and cryptic and in ways I only understood because of the books I read. I met Midas briefly, but only because he was asking Iaso for help. He said he found another and then he came in to check on me.

    He talked fast and laughed a lot. I barely knew how to talk to him. He spoke fast, greeted me, said my name, or at least what I think is my name, and he ran out the door again.

    “Mournine,” he said, but my pocket watch had another name. Perhaps it was the name of the woman I should miss. I took it to Iaso, asking her if she could figure out why the watch was so strange and if it was even mine.

    “The engraving is faded,” I told her. “Not only that, it seems too big and heavy for a regular pocket watch.”

    “And?” Iaso took the pocket watch from me, looking it over. “I’ll see what I can do. But you can’t fix an engraving if you don’t know what it said before.”

    “Is there really nothing?” I asked with a weak voice.

    Iaso looked at me, and she sighed. She scratched at the back of her neck, then smiled. “My poor, sad boy. If only I had your original eyes, you might have been able to see it before.” She patted my hand. “No promises, but I will see what I can find out about your watch.”

    “Ah, thank you,” I gasped. 

    “Don’t thank me yet,” she said as a warning. “I may not find anything at all. Only dust.”

    Not long after, another doll was brought into the room with me. She was lovely, or at least, what I could see of her. Most of her was covered in dust, giving her an ashen and gray appearance. When I looked at her, I had to rub my eyes to make sure it wasn’t something wrong with them. She looked like an old photograph, grainy, dark, and fuzzy.

    She told me her name was Florence, and suddenly we started to argue. I am not sure why, but our ideals of love were very different. So different, that it even hurt her. The cracking of her chest brought back memories for me. I fell while running, gazing at my pocket watch. I remembered the sound of my eyes rolling away and how the smothering silence lay over me.

    Florence was cleaned up after she started to crack. Iaso fixed her, using the same gold technique she used on me. When Florence came back into the room, I was quite stunned. She was pale, even for the porcelain she was made of. Her cheeks were like vibrant roses, and her lips were painted into a coy smile. Her eyes looked familiar to me. Their soft violet color made me feel uncomfortable and excited at the same time. But why? Why did her eyes speak to me so?

    Her hair was wrapped up as it dried, but soon, the wrapping fell away, and a loose lock fell into her face. The color was a rich auburn. When she was covered in dust, her hair looked dark grey and grimy. Now, it was like fire in the distance, darkness with a core of light. I let it coil around my finger as a nervous look came over Florence’s face. 

    She was lovely, I could admit that. Darling and dainty and the perfect vision of a bride. Too bad she never got the chance to be one. She was made to wait and, in that waiting, the dust had become so heavy, it forced her eyes shut. She fell asleep. And much like me, her fall made her forget. It locked her into herself, so she forgot her past.

    “Is something wrong?” Florence steps back, and the curl slips from my fingers.

    I look at her eyes, feeling that discomfort of unrecognizable familiarity from them again. I smile, but it is weak. “I didn’t picture you with this color hair. All the dust took the color. I’m glad to see it is back.”

    Florence pulls all her hair forward on her shoulder and strokes it with her one hand. She still hasn’t been given her left hand back.

    “I’ve never seen it before,” she admits with a somber voice. “It’s always been up and out of my face, held back in braids and clips and behind the veil.” She combs her fingers along her scalp. “I never even knew the color myself.”

    “Were you made to be a bride?” I ask. “Was that your only purpose?”

    Florence lowers her eyes. “I don’t know.”

    “There is more to life than that. There is so much more to you!” I announce. “If that is all you were made for, then you have nothing to look back on. You have so much you can do.”

    Florence pouts at me. “Is it wrong to want to be a bride?”

    “Of course not,” I huff, trying to keep my own desires and feelings in check. “But you can be anything, do anything. Even if we are Dolls, we still have lives we can lead. You can choose your own way. There’s no groom you have to wait on.”

    Florence looks away and closes her eyes. “Then why do you choose to mourn all day, every day?” She asks. “You can do anything and be anything,” she throws my words back in my face. “You can strip away that veil and try to find something good to do instead of crying into old books.”

    I huff. “I suppose you’re right,” I grumble.

    Florence then looks up at me. “Can I see your pocket watch again?”

    “Why?” I look at her incredulously. “So you can take it so I won’t mourn over it?” I reach into my pocket, struggling to get it out.

    Florence holds her hand out, but I keep it in my hand, opening it, so the lock of hair faces her. Florence touches the lid then snaps it back.

    The gut wrenching feeling of betrayal and pain I feel. I lash out, trying to grab it from Florence but she steps away from me too quickly.

    “Give it back to me!” I scream.

    “No!” Florence snaps. “Not until I open it.”

    I go still. “Open it?” I growl under my breath.

    Florence looks at me. “I have to take it out,” she tells me, and she starts searching along the edge with her nail.

    “Open it?” The rage inside me is hot, and I can feel my face shift. The gold is melting, and as she cracks the glass to the lid, one of my eyes fall out. It clatters like a marble on the ground and rolls across the floor.

    Florence screams, and she quickly grabs my eye from the ground. As she kneels to pick it up, I snatch the lid from her. My eye falls from her hand, rolling back along the floor.

    “See what you’ve done?” I yell at her. “Look at me! Look at my face! How dare you mock me and torment me like this?” I shake her wrist clutched in my fist. “What gives you the right? Why must you be so cruel?”

    “Because it’s your hair!” She screams.

    The door opens, and Iaso walks in. “Again with you two?” She then gasps. “How dare you? Let her go!”

    I release Florence and step back. As Iaso goes to comfort Florence, I look at the hair from my pocket watch. The lock of hair is black, but as I take it out, I see strands of silver and white inside it.

    “How did you know?” I whisper.

    “Because I realized I had never seen my hair, so I thought-” Florence whimpered. “I just thought, maybe, you had never seen yours.”

    “Then why-” I gasp.

    “It isn’t yours,” Iaso huffs. “The pocket watch, I mean. The hair is yours, but the watch belonged to someone else. It was meant for someone else.”

    “But I remember holding it when I fell!” I snap.

    Iaso scoffs, picking up my eye from the ground. “Obviously it was meant to be a gift,” she scoffs. “Come with me, you need fixing.”

    “No!” I yell. “I don’t want to be fixed! I want answers! Who am I? Who was I?” I stomp at Iaso. “I miss someone, but I don’t know who anymore! If that is my hair, then who was it meant for?”

    Iaso sighs. “Locks of hair are given as a sign of love. Obviously, it was for someone you loved. So yes, you are mourning the loss of a love. But there is more to this story.” She then stomps her foot. “Now stop screaming and come with me so I can fix you!”

    I look over at Florence, who is looking away from me. I then go with Iaso.

    She lays me down on the table and clicks her tongue. “You got too affected. Now, I am going to have to do something drastic.”

    “Like what?” I ask breathlessly.

    “The gold is hardened back,” she says. “But it’s misshapen. To fix it, I’m going to have to break it.”

    I shake. “Iaso, no!”

    “I’m sorry, sad boy,” she tells me. “Close your eyes and count to three. You’ll wake up soon.”

    “No! No! Please, Iaso!” I beg.

    “One,” she whispers, and I close my eye. “Two-” I don’t hear the three.

    I open my eyes, though, staring at a room where people are walking about. Everything seems hazy and full of light, and all the voices are quiet and distant, even though they’re right beside me.

    “You’re done sooner than we planned,” a woman says to me. She’s short, and her black hair is cropped close to her scalp. She looks over my hand and grins. “I’m sorry you’ll have to wait a bit longer.”

    “She’s not ready?” I ask. “But we started at the same time.”

    The short woman leads me to the table. “Women take time,” she says. I look over at the table, at the doll form laying there. “And you were impatient,” she chuckles. “So now, you have to wait longer.”

    “I couldn’t wait to see her again,” I say, following the woman around.

    “Yes, yes, I know how love works. That is why you are here.” She has me sit down. “I have your hair ready.” She replies.

    I beam up at her. “Is that why your hair is so short?”

    “I made a promise.” She says as she stands on a stool to prepare my hair.

    I open my eyes again, and I am dressed and ready. I have bought a gift, and I am holding it in my hands. One side opens to a watch and a lock of my hair. The other side opens where two wedding bands are kept.

    As I am walking with the gift in hand, I start to run, excited to see my love again. But as I do, some children run out in front of me, and I fall.

    “Oh no!” One of the children cries.

    “We’ll help you! We promise! Mama!” The other boy sobs.

    “Get his eyes! His eyes!” A woman gasps.

    I open my eyes again, and something is different. I feel as if I am not myself, but someone else entirely.

    “We’ll get him fixed,” the short woman says.

    “What happened?” A woman’s voice comes from my mouth. “Is everything ok?”

    The short woman touches her cheek. “You have to wait. He’ll come back soon.”

    “He promised he would greet me. Why does he always do this?”

    I open my eyes again, for real this time. I sit up on the table, giving Iaso a start. I look at her, remembering her.

    “You made me,” I whisper.

    She sighs and nods. “A long time ago. You were a soul without purpose, a soul lost. You came to me and my temple asking for help.”

    “Why didn’t you say anything?” I snapped at her. 

    “It wasn’t time,” she said with a shrug. 

    I stand up from the table and motion to the door. “She has my eyes,” I whisper.

    Iaso nods. “She does. I had no hope of repairing you back then,” she tells me. “There was no way. I had to wait. So I gave her what I could of you.”

    I glare at her then thrust my hand out. “I need her left arm.”

    Iaso takes it from the table and hands it to me. I then storm back into the room where Florence is on the floor, holding my pocket watch. She stands up.

    “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you mad, I was only trying to-” she stops. “Is that my arm?” She asks.

    “Come here,” I say. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

    Florence steps close, and I push open her robe to place her arm back into the socket. She lifts her arm and moves her fingers.

    “It works,” she says with a bright smile.

    “Open the watch,” I then tell her.

    She looks up at me with my old eyes. Well, they’re hers, and they always have been. “I broke the lid off.”

    “Other side.”

    Florence turns the watch over and notices the notches. She clicks it open, and the two wedding bands fall out. Her eyes grow wide, and her mouth opens.

    I take the smaller one, seeing her name inscribed on it with mine. “Please,” I whisper. “Give me your hand.”

    She offers it while trembling. I slip the ring on, and she shakes her head.

    “What does this mean?” She asks me.

    “You were waiting on me,” I murmur. “You were still being made when I fell. It’s all my fault.” I leave the remaining ring in her palm. “I was mourning you,” I tell her, “all while you were waiting for me.”

    Florence blinks a few times, unable to fully understand. “But-” she looks at the ring in her palm.

    “I know you’re angry at me,” I whisper to her. “I’m angry at myself. I was impatient and ruined everything. Iaso did all she could, but back then, she couldn’t save me. You could have done anything,” I whisper. “But you held out hope, and you waited until you forgot everything. You can start new without me. I just ask you keep my ring.”

    Florence tilts her head. “So the watch was mine?”

    I nod. “It was to be a wedding gift.”

    She looks at the ring on her finger, then takes the one in her hand. She steps closer to me, placing the ring on my finger. 

    “What are you doing?” I ask.

    “This is the set,” She tells me. “You and I.” She smiles up at me. “Iaso made us to be together. Matching halves to make a whole.”

    “I told you, you’re free, you don’t have to choose me. You can start over and find something else. You don’t have to be a bride.” I brush her hair from her face.

    “But it’s what I want,” she says. “If I have been waiting on you and wanting to see you, then isn’t it perfect? If you can remember, then I’ll remember too, and when I do, I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

    “I want that too,” I reply.

    Florence stands on her tip toes and places a soft kiss to my lips. “Whatever the reason, whoever we were, this is all meant to be.”

    I smile. “Is that a vow, my bride?” 

    Florence grins. “It is, my groom.”

    I know there is a lot that we are missing. Bits and pieces to our past that have broken apart and fallen away. But with the gold bands on your fingers, we can mend it all back together, just like her heart and just like my face. We will be stronger after being broken.