Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Doll ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

Many, many centuries ago, a girl was born. A beautiful doll built by the hands of a skilled toymaker. Her hair was a beautiful, silky silver, flowing long past her knees, while her eyes were a fiery ruby red. Her skin was made of the smoothest, most fine porcelain the old man could find. She was truly his greatest, most treasured creation.

You see, years earlier, the old man's home had been the victim of arson. It had been set aflame while he'd been away buying supplies and materials for a custom project he'd been hired to make. His daughter, who'd stayed behind after his wife had left him for another man, had been in the house at the time of the fire. The toymaker had been distraught with grief when he'd come home to find his only child, the light of his life, dead in the middle of the ruins and ashes.

In the years that ensued the tragedy, he'd spent his free time, when not working on other projects, crafting a realistic doll in her image. And finally, after three years of hard labor and searching, he'd created her, his perfect doll. “It looks just like her,” he cried, tears of joy and sadness forming in his eyes. “My precious daughter Lilian.”

But just looking at her hadn't been enough for the craftsman. And every night he'd pray to the heavens to give his doll life.

One day, almost a month later, while returning from a delivery, he came upon an old woman. She was a short, old lady, with straggly gray hair and strangely bright green eyes. “Dear old toymaker,” she croaked when she saw him, “I can grant your wish. I can give that doll of yours life…but for a price.”

The old man's eyes widened at her proposal. Had his prayers been answered? Could this woman really give his precious Lilian-doll a life of her own? A millions questions ran through his mind. Finally, after a long silence, he spoke hesitantly, “What is it you want from me?”

The old witch grinned, revealing crooked yellow teeth. “I will give that doll life…in return for half of your remaining life span.”

Again, the toymaker went silent. To him, it seemed a reasonable price: His life in return for his precious Lilian's. And at least he'd get to spend a few more years with her before his time came. “Alright…I'll pay the price. Tell me, old woman, what must I do?”

She rummaged in her dirty brown knapsack and came up with a small, shiny gold wind-up key. “Tonigt, attach this to the doll in some way and repeat these words: I sacrifice half my life for this doll that shall live on forever. Then you are to go to sleep.” She placed the key in his hand and folded his fingers over it. “Your pleas shall be granted come morn.”

The old man thanked her and hurried back to his cottage. He managed to fashion the key into a hair clip and pinned it in the doll's hair. Then he repeated the words as instructed and climbed into bed, where he slept, anxiously waiting to see if the witch's spell had worked.

When morning, came, he was disappointed to find the doll in the same position she'd been in the previous night. That is until it spoke. “Are you…my master?” it said, soft and sweet.

The craftsman nearly broke into tears again; it even sounded like his lost daughter. He shook his head. “Please, don't refer to me as your master…but as your father instead.”

“Father…” the doll said slowly, as if trying to make sense of the word. “Yes…Father. And what is it that my name is?”

“Lilian…” he choked out past the lump in his throat. He could no longer hold the tears back. “Your name is Lilian.”

The doll reached out and touched his cheek. The old man gasped. Her hand no longer felt like cold porcelain but warm flesh and blood. His creation had truly been given life. “Father…why are you crying? Please don't cry. I don't wish to see you upset.”

“Lilian…oh my precious child!” He embraced the doll and held her tight. “I don't want to lose you again.”

And so, for the next few years, the two of them lived together in the small cottage. Lilian helped around the house while the toymaker worked on his various projects. Every night, he'd tell the doll a story of the real Lilian. And the doll was intrigued. It vowed to be more like the man's lost daughter, seeing how much he loved her still. To make him as happy as he'd made her.

But all good things must come to an end at some point in time. The old man's health began to deteriorate and he soon became bedridden. Nonetheless, the Lilian-doll still continued to care for the old man she'd truly come to know as “Father.”

On his final day, the craftsman refused to release the doll's hand. “Lilian…” he croaked, his voice no louder than a whisper, “you have made these last few years of my life so much better than I could have hoped for. You're just like her…my precious daughter. When she'd died, I thought I'd lost everything. She'd been all I'd had left after my wife had left me. The only good thing remaining in my life.” He gripped her hand tighter. “But then you came along, made things bearable again. I'm extremely thankful for that.” He coughed. “Live on, my child. Live on with me in your heart. Promise me.”

“I promise, Father,” the doll said. “I couldn't possibly forget with all the things you've done for me. All you've given me. I…I love you, Father.”

The old man cracked a weak smile. “How I've longed to hear those words again. Now…now I can pass on with no regrets.” His eyes then slowly closed while his hand slowly opened, releasing hers.

The doll cried that day, for hours and hours on end. But even today, hundreds of years later, as she wanders this earth, she still keeps her promise to the old man. Lilian still lives on, changing with the times. But she will never forget the old man, her father.