Post by shioritsumi on Jul 3, 2009 23:51:15 GMT -5
It's occurred to me that there's a loophole to be exploited. What happened to Mye's wand? Some kids took it right? So here is where it ended up.....
~~~~~~~
A Doll’s Eye View
I am Doll. I don’t have another name that sounds more like a name, sorry. I have an owner, but you see, little Sandy is very little and cannot even count past twenty yet. She is very young, you see? She is six, and the most difficult word she knows right now is ‘poopy-head’, the sort of word that every six year-old seems to know. Sandy calls me her Dolly, but her mother simply calls me Doll. Doll sounds a little more accurate to me, if you ask me. I am a doll, after all.
Oh, yes…if I am a doll, how am I talking to you? You are wondering this? If I am the doll of a little six-year old girl, how do I know these words? Well…it is a confusing sort of story, and I am not entirely certain what really happened. I vaguely remember before it happened, mostly the sensation of being dragged around places by one arm and then squeezed very tightly when the room becomes very dark except for a soft pink glow from a corner of the room. I remember the voice of Sandy’s brother, Andrew. (Sandy calls him Drew.)
I remember the argument. I remember that. Andrew came in one day, I could hear his heavy footsteps, and I heard Sandy gasping. “Drew, wha’s that?”
“It’s a big stick.”
“It’s a fancy stick…” I felt Sandy set me down on a chair. “Who gave you it?”
“No one. I found it.” And Andrew sounded so proud of himself.
“Where?”
“There was this girl at a stand the guys and I knocked over. An’, well, she wasn’ usin’ it!” Oh, dear. Andrew is eight, and seems to think he knows everything and that he’s always right. It certainly showed then. “So I figgered I’d just take it!”
“That’s stealing, Drew! Mommy will be mad when she finds out! You gonna be in trouble!”
“Am not! B’sides, it’s just a big stick!”
“Nuh-uh! Looks like a wand, Drew!”
“It looks like a toy!”
“A toy you stole!” Then the shoving began. I assume the shoving began because all of a sudden, the chair I was on moved and I found myself on the cold floor again. “Stop it, Drew! That girl’s gonna want her toy back!”
“She wasn’t using it! How d’ya know she’ll even miss it?! She might have another one at home!”
“What if she don’t? Give it, Drew!” More shoving, because Sandy screamed. “Stop it! I’m gonna tell Mommy you’re hurting me!”
“So shove me back, you big baby!”
“Fine! I will!” Andrew shrieked, and something hit the floor. A wave of coldness rushed over my little plush body and a light bored into my glass eyes, gradually adjusting to the sight of the kitchen floor, and sensation seeped into my soft cotton skin and I could feel the linoleum beneath my fingerless hands, and the feel of the fabric on my skin and my hair dangling in my face. And I could see Sandy standing over Andrew.
“Not so hard, Sandy! I dropped it!” On the floor, ten feet away lay a brown twisted wooden-metal-looking thing with a strange red crystal tucked into the curve of the twist at the top. Sandy was right, it looked like a wand. “Jeeze! You coulda broke it!” Andrew retrieved the wand and inspected it carefully, growling a very inappropriate word for an eight year-old. Sandy gasped.
“You said a bad word! I’m telling Mommy!”
“Nuh-uh! Stoppit, Sandy!” The wand crashed to the floor again as the children rushed out of the kitchen, and again sensation rushed over me. The front of my face burned, and pin-pricks of pain washed over my arms, legs, and neck. They faded, and I didn’t know how, but I just automatically sat up, as if by reflex. I brushed the lavender hair that escaped the two pink scrunchies Sandy put atop my head from in front of my eyes, and I slowly pushed myself to my feet. It was a strange sensation…
“….Sandy…?” That was stranger. My lips came apart, and I spoke. I remained silent for a long moment, unfamiliar with the sound. “What was….” Oh, but it was me. I was speaking. I was speaking. And when I moved my legs and strode across the floor to the wand, that was me. I was walking. Moving. Without Sandy. I touched the wand. Was this what gave me the ability to walk? Was it this? The wand was smooth under my hand…it had the color of wood, but the feel of metal. What was it? A magic wand, maybe…then the girl Andrew took it from must have been a witch. She must have. Terrible things could happen, I thought, because Andrew took a witch’s wand. Sandy rushed back into the kitchen for me, and I crumpled to the floor, a reflex I didn’t know I had. The fall was uncomfortable, and I didn’t like it, but it didn’t hurt. I’m glad I’m plush.
I have been trying to discover what the girl-what the witch Andrew took the wand from looked like, but it is difficult to gather information when you are a doll. I believe some of the birds understand me, and the bats definitely, but they don’t know anything of the witch. I want to return the wand, that strange mysterious wand that gave me life. I hope the little witch girl is not too upset for the loss of it, but I am doing what I can to return it to her. I hope you all understand how difficult it is to update this blog when I am so little and I have no fingers. That makes it extra difficult. I found a pencil, and I can use that for some of the further away keys, but it’s sort of unwieldy. Pencils in this house are either mechanical, too long, or too short. It’s an eternal struggle, let me tell you.
I wanted to get a picture of the wand, but I have a great deal of trouble holding a camera, and the wand is kept in Andrew’s room now, which he always keeps the door to closed. I’m a slight too short to reach the handle, and step-stools are much too heavy for my too push over to his door. I don’t even know for sure if Andrew still has the wand…he may have traded it to one of his friends while I wasn’t looking. I can’t leave the house unless I’m with Sandy, anyways…so he may have very well done that.
Oh dear…I don’t know if you read this, or even if you know how to use the internet…but if you are the little witch girl who lost her wand, the one that is long and sort of brown-copper colored that is twisty with a red jewel in the curve of the twist, I believe I may know where it is. Would you please contact me with this email? LivingDoll@Yoohoo.com . Thank you! This is a special email I set up with one of those free sites…I don’t want Sandy’s mother finding out her Dolly is using her email to find a witch girl. I do not think she would like that. But please, by all means, contact me if you find this…I believe I may be able to help you find your wand again. Thank you.
Doll Stone (Stone is the last name of my owner’s family, so I have adopted it as my own as well.)
~~~~~~~
I understand that only Mye can actually use magic with her wand, but this is more of something that just happened. Can you tell I saw Transfomers recently? When the shard or the All-Spark hit the ground, it gave off waves of its unique energy. So in this particular little snippet, when Mye's wand hit the ground, it gave off waves of magic, magic to which Doll was apparently attuned to just right for it to affect her.
Doll learned words by hanging around Sandy's mother and father, probably...they should have a larger vocabulary than Sandy. Should. And spending time around any house, just about anyone can pick up on how to use a computer. (It's just difficult to with no fingers. Also, the email I listed here for Doll is fake...obviously...) I got rid of some cliches. Becoming alive did not make her a miniature human. Doll is still a doll...she is still made of all the things dolls are made of. She's just a magically moving doll. Her mouth is made of fabric, her hands are fabric. Her hair is synthetic...hair stuff. Whatever. Doll also did not grow in size. She is still the size of a little doll...probably about six to eight or nine inches tall. She is a doll still...just...I just want you to keep that in mind.
~~~~~~~
A Doll’s Eye View
I am Doll. I don’t have another name that sounds more like a name, sorry. I have an owner, but you see, little Sandy is very little and cannot even count past twenty yet. She is very young, you see? She is six, and the most difficult word she knows right now is ‘poopy-head’, the sort of word that every six year-old seems to know. Sandy calls me her Dolly, but her mother simply calls me Doll. Doll sounds a little more accurate to me, if you ask me. I am a doll, after all.
Oh, yes…if I am a doll, how am I talking to you? You are wondering this? If I am the doll of a little six-year old girl, how do I know these words? Well…it is a confusing sort of story, and I am not entirely certain what really happened. I vaguely remember before it happened, mostly the sensation of being dragged around places by one arm and then squeezed very tightly when the room becomes very dark except for a soft pink glow from a corner of the room. I remember the voice of Sandy’s brother, Andrew. (Sandy calls him Drew.)
I remember the argument. I remember that. Andrew came in one day, I could hear his heavy footsteps, and I heard Sandy gasping. “Drew, wha’s that?”
“It’s a big stick.”
“It’s a fancy stick…” I felt Sandy set me down on a chair. “Who gave you it?”
“No one. I found it.” And Andrew sounded so proud of himself.
“Where?”
“There was this girl at a stand the guys and I knocked over. An’, well, she wasn’ usin’ it!” Oh, dear. Andrew is eight, and seems to think he knows everything and that he’s always right. It certainly showed then. “So I figgered I’d just take it!”
“That’s stealing, Drew! Mommy will be mad when she finds out! You gonna be in trouble!”
“Am not! B’sides, it’s just a big stick!”
“Nuh-uh! Looks like a wand, Drew!”
“It looks like a toy!”
“A toy you stole!” Then the shoving began. I assume the shoving began because all of a sudden, the chair I was on moved and I found myself on the cold floor again. “Stop it, Drew! That girl’s gonna want her toy back!”
“She wasn’t using it! How d’ya know she’ll even miss it?! She might have another one at home!”
“What if she don’t? Give it, Drew!” More shoving, because Sandy screamed. “Stop it! I’m gonna tell Mommy you’re hurting me!”
“So shove me back, you big baby!”
“Fine! I will!” Andrew shrieked, and something hit the floor. A wave of coldness rushed over my little plush body and a light bored into my glass eyes, gradually adjusting to the sight of the kitchen floor, and sensation seeped into my soft cotton skin and I could feel the linoleum beneath my fingerless hands, and the feel of the fabric on my skin and my hair dangling in my face. And I could see Sandy standing over Andrew.
“Not so hard, Sandy! I dropped it!” On the floor, ten feet away lay a brown twisted wooden-metal-looking thing with a strange red crystal tucked into the curve of the twist at the top. Sandy was right, it looked like a wand. “Jeeze! You coulda broke it!” Andrew retrieved the wand and inspected it carefully, growling a very inappropriate word for an eight year-old. Sandy gasped.
“You said a bad word! I’m telling Mommy!”
“Nuh-uh! Stoppit, Sandy!” The wand crashed to the floor again as the children rushed out of the kitchen, and again sensation rushed over me. The front of my face burned, and pin-pricks of pain washed over my arms, legs, and neck. They faded, and I didn’t know how, but I just automatically sat up, as if by reflex. I brushed the lavender hair that escaped the two pink scrunchies Sandy put atop my head from in front of my eyes, and I slowly pushed myself to my feet. It was a strange sensation…
“….Sandy…?” That was stranger. My lips came apart, and I spoke. I remained silent for a long moment, unfamiliar with the sound. “What was….” Oh, but it was me. I was speaking. I was speaking. And when I moved my legs and strode across the floor to the wand, that was me. I was walking. Moving. Without Sandy. I touched the wand. Was this what gave me the ability to walk? Was it this? The wand was smooth under my hand…it had the color of wood, but the feel of metal. What was it? A magic wand, maybe…then the girl Andrew took it from must have been a witch. She must have. Terrible things could happen, I thought, because Andrew took a witch’s wand. Sandy rushed back into the kitchen for me, and I crumpled to the floor, a reflex I didn’t know I had. The fall was uncomfortable, and I didn’t like it, but it didn’t hurt. I’m glad I’m plush.
I have been trying to discover what the girl-what the witch Andrew took the wand from looked like, but it is difficult to gather information when you are a doll. I believe some of the birds understand me, and the bats definitely, but they don’t know anything of the witch. I want to return the wand, that strange mysterious wand that gave me life. I hope the little witch girl is not too upset for the loss of it, but I am doing what I can to return it to her. I hope you all understand how difficult it is to update this blog when I am so little and I have no fingers. That makes it extra difficult. I found a pencil, and I can use that for some of the further away keys, but it’s sort of unwieldy. Pencils in this house are either mechanical, too long, or too short. It’s an eternal struggle, let me tell you.
I wanted to get a picture of the wand, but I have a great deal of trouble holding a camera, and the wand is kept in Andrew’s room now, which he always keeps the door to closed. I’m a slight too short to reach the handle, and step-stools are much too heavy for my too push over to his door. I don’t even know for sure if Andrew still has the wand…he may have traded it to one of his friends while I wasn’t looking. I can’t leave the house unless I’m with Sandy, anyways…so he may have very well done that.
Oh dear…I don’t know if you read this, or even if you know how to use the internet…but if you are the little witch girl who lost her wand, the one that is long and sort of brown-copper colored that is twisty with a red jewel in the curve of the twist, I believe I may know where it is. Would you please contact me with this email? LivingDoll@Yoohoo.com . Thank you! This is a special email I set up with one of those free sites…I don’t want Sandy’s mother finding out her Dolly is using her email to find a witch girl. I do not think she would like that. But please, by all means, contact me if you find this…I believe I may be able to help you find your wand again. Thank you.
Doll Stone (Stone is the last name of my owner’s family, so I have adopted it as my own as well.)
~~~~~~~
I understand that only Mye can actually use magic with her wand, but this is more of something that just happened. Can you tell I saw Transfomers recently? When the shard or the All-Spark hit the ground, it gave off waves of its unique energy. So in this particular little snippet, when Mye's wand hit the ground, it gave off waves of magic, magic to which Doll was apparently attuned to just right for it to affect her.
Doll learned words by hanging around Sandy's mother and father, probably...they should have a larger vocabulary than Sandy. Should. And spending time around any house, just about anyone can pick up on how to use a computer. (It's just difficult to with no fingers. Also, the email I listed here for Doll is fake...obviously...) I got rid of some cliches. Becoming alive did not make her a miniature human. Doll is still a doll...she is still made of all the things dolls are made of. She's just a magically moving doll. Her mouth is made of fabric, her hands are fabric. Her hair is synthetic...hair stuff. Whatever. Doll also did not grow in size. She is still the size of a little doll...probably about six to eight or nine inches tall. She is a doll still...just...I just want you to keep that in mind.