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As was becoming more and more common these days, Phil's Toys was devoid of customers. It was a sad sight to see a store so vibrant so lacking in business. The big box stores had taken most of his sales over years of large selections and cheap prices, though he had survived longer than other toy stores by adding a large section of model trains and airplanes; things the larger stores didn't bother with. But even those had turned to stop gaps, only delaying the inevitable. That's why Phil was sitting behind the counter browsing the wanted section.

Phil was an older man, past life's halfway point. He didn't have many wrinkles, but had certainly lost much of the hair on his head. He didn't fret, though, as he seemed to have hair everywhere else. He had a nicely groomed, but full, beard of ruddy whiskers. The man was still in good health, apart from a worsening case of arthritis and a case of beer gut.

With his mind focused on the paper, it took Phil a moment to hear soft padded steps walking through the store. He set down the paper and caught sight of a young woman draped in a checkered pink dress. The garment fell past her knees and ended in soft frills on her skirt and sleeves. She had a red ribbon bow tied to the dresses top, and more red ribbons tied in her brown hair. She wore braided pig tails, which fell down to her waist and swung to and from as she took steps in simple black flats and maroon tights. He saw on her cheek a light pink dot, barely standing out from her bright face. She had a long look in her face, and didn't really seem to be focusing on anything in the immediate area. But the girl wandered over to a display of Barbie dolls and looked at them with a sadly blank stare.

Phil was entranced by the woman dressed in a doll costume, and was very confident that this had never occurred before in his store. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps this was part of someone's improv skit, and made the decision to play along should she begin to interact with him. But he was content to merely watch her for now.

The doll brought up one of her hands to pick up one of the pink Barbie boxes, and that's when Phil noticed something horribly amiss: her fingers were bent out of shape; two fell limp and a third was jammed away from the others at a horrible angle.

"Miss," Phil quickly said while coming out from behind the counter, "your hand is broken." The doll looked to him slowly, and it took a moment for her eyes to focus on his. Now that he was closer, Phil noticed that the woman's eye black eyelashes were painted on with thick makeup. They masked her sad brown pupils. He held up a finger in front of the doll's face and moved it back and forth slowly. It took her a little longer than he would have liked to respond.

"Come here, you may have a concussion," Phil said, guiding the girl to the stool behind the counter. "Here, sit down. What's your name?"The doll took a perched seat on the stool but didn't say a word, only stared off into the distance. "Ma'am, what's your name?"

The doll turned to Phil, her eyes focusing on him more quickly than they had the last time. "Toy." She said. Her voice was quiet and bittersweet.

"No, your name. What's your name?"

"Toy, could you get me some more milk." Owner raised his glass and his dutiful doll was happy to please him any way she could. She quickly poured the milk into his glass and then stood next to him quietly. She smiled and hoped he would say something to her again. His voice was so pretty.

"My name is . . . Toy. That's what he called me."

"He? He who?"

The doll ignored his question and brought her hand up so she could look at its mangled fingers. "My hand needs fixing." Phil looked at the hand, and for the first time noticed it was covered in a soft tan fabric, matched perfectly to a normal skin tone. His eyes followed the fabric up her arm, as he looked for an end to the glove she was wearing. But the fabric extended up past her sleeve, and even covered her chest, neck, and even her face. The owner looked at the girl, covered head to toe in fabric he had somehow missed earlier. "Can you fix me?" the doll asked.

"Well, I'm not a doctor. I don't think . . ."

The doll smiled her soft pink lips, "I don't need a doctor. I need a toy maker." Phil rubbed his bald spot and wondered how deep this delusion went in her mind.

"OK, well I'm not really an expert at this." He knelt down and pulled a small toolbox from the cabinet in the counter, a final reminder of the little repairs his shop always needed. Phil set the black box on the counter and pulled out a box cutter. He brought it up for the woman to see, but she didn't flinch at the tool, even as Phil rotated her arm to expose an inseam. He quickly pricked her, and she didn't react. Moreover, she didn't bleed. Curious now, Phil made a small fingernail sized cut along the seam. Still, the woman didn't react. But Phil was startled and pulled back a little when he looked at the seam and saw white stuffing pushing out of the doll's tan fabric.

Phil pulled out a flashlight to take a better look at the girl's stuffing, which would more appropriately be called foam. He ran his hand along the doll's arm and felt she had foam wherever she should have muscle, and he noted that it had more give than normal flesh. When he pulled away, it took a few moments for her body to return to its natural shape.  Phil rubbed his bald spot once again and shook his head.

"You really are a doll." He said in slight disbelief.

The girl smiled, "What else would I be?"

"Well, a human. Like me."

"That's silly. I've been a doll for as long as I can remember." Phil nodded in reply and turned his attention back to Toy's broken hand. He made a cut to open up the seam in her hand, exposing a thin layer of foam, and wooden bones beneath. Each of her finger bones were simple hinge joints with a pin and screw connecting them, and so it was a simple matter for Phil to set the bone in its proper place and tighten the joint once again.

The two smaller fingers were another matter. Not only were they out of place, but also broken completely, both splintering along the grain. But the store owner had a solution for that. He set the wood back in place and turned to his tool box to get some wood glue. But by the time he had turned back, the several pieces of wood had mended together.

Phil thought on this for a moment, and then realized that the doll had no means of locomotion; she had no pulleys, gears, or motors to move her wooden frame. Though he had never believed in magic, Phil had to admit that this doll was magical.

It took a moment more for Phil to complete the surgery on Toy's hand, and he was a little worried that he might not be able to stitch her skin back together. But he waited and watched for a few seconds, and her cloth skin resealed itself. The doll brought her hand up to her face once again and looked at it, wiggling all five fingers. She betrayed a smile for a slight beat of time, and looked at Phil with an extra sparkle in her eyes.

Toy silently slid off the stool and kissed Phil on his ruddy beard. "Thank you." She said and walked back out to the store. She moved with the same light steps and wandering sort of gait she had come into the store with. Phil followed behind after a comfortable margin as Toy began to look through Barbie's once again.

"Can you tell me about yourself?"  The elderly man asked. He had an instinct that all was not well with the doll; that she was intentionally or unintentionally hiding something from him.

"I am a doll." She said, never taking her eyes from pink boxes. "What else is there to tell?"

"Well, where were you made? You said you had an owner. Where is he?

"He . . . Owner . . . I can't talk about him. He doesn't like that."

Phil took a note of that, but decided it was in the doll's best interest to go on to something else. "Could you tell me about how you were made? I've come across many dolls, and none can move like you."

"He said I was made by a kindly old witch, but I never got to meet her."

"You don't remember?"

The doll smiled softly, "Does anyone remember how they're born?"

Her eyes broke open suddenly and her lungs cried for air. She sat up ramrod straight and filled her body with air. She was in a simple, though large room, empty but for the bed she was in, a large blue and green rug of thick carpet, and a dresser with a mirror upon which two dolls sat, and. One of the toys was a sweet baby doll with Goldilocks hair and yellow dress, and the other a floppy purple and blue marionette jester. There were no windows, and no other decorations. The floor was barren concrete and walls white cinder block.

The bed she was in had no blanket or sheets, and she just sat on a bare pink mattress. She quickly came to realize her clothes, all but her undergarments, had been stripped from her; which allowed her to see a developing bruise on her upper left arm. Chilled wind wafted down from overhead vents, and she wrapped herself in her own body for warmth, until she saw clothes hanging next to the dresser. They were a pink checkered dress, maroon tights, and soft Mary Jane flats. With little choice, she rushed to put these on.
Another Sunday, another Scrappy story. This one has one of the better chances of being expanded on. It was based on a photo of a pretty Living Doll for a toy store somewhere.

I remember the plan for this story being very, very big. The doll (Anne) would come to work in the toy shop, posing in the window and helping out in little ways. Business would return, and so would Anne's creator. We would find out how she came to be a doll and how she was eventually abandoned.

To add another wrinkle, the story would also involve Phil's adult daughter, who went about to find out who Anne had been.

I never did decide if Anne repressed her human memories, or if she was mind controlled to forget them. I'm not sure which is more interesting at the moment.
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Kelannpoole Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2012
This is amazing, I want to see more of it ^.^
Senor-Refresho Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2012
I may just have to write more of it, which is part of the reason why I held off on posting it for as long as I did.

Is there any particular thing you would like to see/read about in the very nebulous next part?
disneydamsel98 Featured By Owner Oct 28, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
this is really good! and also midcontrol to forget her memories= good idea!
Senor-Refresho Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2012
I think so, too. It makes Owner more dastardly, and it's less sad than the other option.

Anything in particular you liked?
disneydamsel98 Featured By Owner Oct 31, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
i just liked how the charachetr acted and how she was looking at dolls
Senor-Refresho Featured By Owner Oct 31, 2012
I agree. I usually right dolls as being sort of manic and playful, but there is something I love about Toy's quiet and demure personality. There's also this neat way she sort of does things on her own, but still seems dependent on others.
disneydamsel98 Featured By Owner Nov 1, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
TheEverything Featured By Owner Oct 28, 2012
This is rather intirging, I'd really like to see it continued.
Senor-Refresho Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2012
Thanks. What were the most intriguing parts for you?
TheEverything Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2012
Well, for one thing, the fact that there's a sized living doll who used to be human. Also the mysterious "Owner" and the witch. Besides, in what circumstances would it be "kindly" to turn flesh and blood into cloth and fabric? There's a lot more here than meets the eye and I'm dying to find out.
Senor-Refresho Featured By Owner Oct 31, 2012
And you have to wonder, based on the very brief flashes we get into Toy's past, how much of that is true.
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