robinthebun

just another goofball

  • they/she

love to write, think, draw, and play video games. icon by @pocketghosts


There's a doll in my yard.

I don't know what it wants. Why could it be here? I'm not a witch. I don't even know any witches! I watched it wander around the yard for a while, but it seems aimless, purposeless. Did it lose its witch? How does that even happen?

I left it alone for an hour, hoping it would leave, but it never did. I finally went outside to ask it what it was here for. When I did, it smiled at me and said it was here to serve. I told it I am not a witch, but she smiled and said, "I'm here to serve."

I swear that I am not a witch, but the doll is living here now. I don't know what to do with it. It says it's here to serve and help, but I don't need help. I start to cook and it tells me it can do that. "I like to cook," I tell the doll. It looks at me in confusion and wraps its arms around my waist, leaning its head on my shoulder.

I feel warm, not because of the doll's core. I swear I am not a witch, but this is my doll now. I guess I should give it a name. Maybe later. Right now, we are entangled, arms wrapped around one another, its head resting on my shoulder, its hands awaiting guidance. I kiss it on the forehead and its eyes close, its mouth opens, making a strange discordant sound. We are neither of us used to this. That will change, with time.


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