"you said you had four dolls?" you ask, curious to meet all of them.
your sister and her First give each other unparsable looks. the other two dolls suddenly rise from their seats and busy themselves cleaning up the remnants of afternoon tea.
(what is it with tea parties?)
"i did say that," your sister replies.
"my Lady, the visitor doesn't need to meet that grem—"
she makes a zipper motion across her lips. her First clearly had more to say, but it seems she won't be saying it now, moving, or doing anything at all. perfectly quiet and blank.
"the fourth one was a bit of an experiment," your sister says. "not entirely unsuccessful, but… well, seeing as we've both been plagued with the same family talent for dollcraft, you should see what 'not entirely unsuccessful' can look like. this one stays in the basement."
the basement door is closed. she opens it to reveal stairs descending into vague dimness. when you step forward, the air thickens and congeals.
your sister shakes her head. "no, you'll spook it like that. do you have anything in need of mending? you usually seem to."
you pout. "i'm always careful with my stuff."
"you are not! the horrible crimes you've committed with my hand-me-downs…"
"otherwise mom would never buy me anything new!" you protest.
"…or your own purchases… in fact, show me your phone."
sheepishly, you fish it out.
she shakes her head. "i thought i saw a chip earlier, but now that i see it up close: do you use this poor thing's screen to play hockey? never mind," she cuts you off. "take it down with you."
you shrug, and descend the creaky steps with your battered phone in your hand.
"hello?" you call out.
it's a surprisingly large basement. shelves everywhere, filled with all manner of junk. you can't see anyone down here.
(your sister probably wouldn't hurt you, but… older sisters and witches both enjoy teaching lessons.)
there's a scurrying behind you.
you turn. a shape draped in black snatches the phone from your hand.
"for me?" it asks. its voice is soft, tentative.
"um. my sister said to bring it down here."
"it's fucked up, broken," it says. "digitizer's cracked. case scuffed to hell. just the kind of trash i deserve."
the shape scuttles away, your phone in its clutches.
you follow it, or attempt to, anyway. the basement is a maze of shelves and cabinets. something flashes and sparks in the distance. there's a hissing noise. you blunder around a bit trying to find where it's all coming from.
then the shape reappears.
"here," it says, proffering…
"is this my phone?" it's heavier than you remember.
"ah. yes. light."
it reaches up and pulls a rusted chain to an overhead fixture you didn't see. light flares, yellow and white from mismatched bulbs above you.
you can see your phone now. it's been transformed. beat-up red plastic is now gleaming crimson enamel with a weave of gilt vines, and the edges of the case have been subtly thickened. you turn it on; the screen blazes like the glory of the heavens, not a crack or dead spot left.
you can also see the doll. it looks like… nothing much, really, especially compared to your sister's neatly turned-out other dolls. skinny. long unkempt dark hair. the black cloth draped over it turns out to be a much-embroidered hoodie and patched dark jeans.
"i'm hideous," it says. "i know. you shouldn't stay down here. you might catch it."
it shoves you towards the base of the stairs, which have apparently been just a few steps away the entire time.
"go," it repeats. "leave. throw more rubbish on top of me, it's all i'm good for."
you shrug and climb the stairs.
"well," your sister says, "that's doll number four. understand why i don't summon it to tea parties? it won't wear dresses; it won't wear any clothes that aren't practically rags, actually, and it insists on mending them to its own design."
"but look what it did to my phone," you say, holding it out for inspection.
"ah, yes, much better. it can fix nearly anything. that's how i keep it busy and that's why i keep it around, strange thing that it is. do try to take care of the phone, though."
"i want it," you blurt out.
"you want what?" your sister asks. "wait… my doll?"
"yes!"
she raises an eyebrow.
"why?"
"it's awesome! it's gloomy! it's fast and weird! it's so not you. don't you see how cool that is? i can barely believe you built something that much fun."
she snorts. "reverse flattery will get you…"
"get me what," you say, making your best spoil-me-please face.
"fine! it'll get you a doll, in this case. might help you fix any you try to make yourself, now that i think of it… yes, that'd be best."
"you won't regret this. i'll take good care of it."
"keep it in the basement," she admonishes, "and throw it broken things. it's comfortable with them."
"um." you pause. "do i need a basement?"
"i didn't have one. i think it made its own."
"i like it even more now!"
back in the parlor, your sister hands you a twisted black key. then she claps a hand to her mouth, unsuccessfully covering a smirk.
"what?"
"oh, nothing."
"c'mon…"
"it's just funny that you're actually asking for my hand-me-downs now. mom will get a giggle out of this!"
