His Story || Book 1

chapter one

Edited

A big thank you to MothManLikesLamps for offering to Edit this book for me. Thank you!

Your POV

I stood impatiently, though-not really paying attention to how the doll was made, as Mother sewed the second big button onto the blue haired doll where the eyes are meant to be. 

I saw her perfect stitching when she set the doll down to do the finishing touches. I watched as she sent it through the strange window; I don't know how it works, but it somehow allows the dolls to travel to the other world. Mother says it won't work for us, so I can't go through it.

She's been doing this for thousands of millennia, or so she's told me. I've only been alive for a couple hundred. In the other realm, Mother says I’m sixteen.

I've never been allowed in the sewing room before. Mother would always tell me to stay out, but she told me that I could make my own doll today, even though I'm not allowed to send it over. 

She closed the large window and looked at me. She was in her spider form, which she liked being in most of the time. She looked at the table and grabbed one needle from it with her long, piercing fingers then handed it to me, along with one coil of thread.

"You may use whatever you want, my dear. Just don't go near the window." 
With that, she left the room, closing the door on her way out

"Thanks for showing me how to use all of this Mom. No problem, son!" I mumbled as I looked over what I had to work with.

"Aaaaaand I have no inspiration," I sighed. I looked around the room and noticed a tall mirror, but what I saw inside startled me: it was myself. 

My spider form, I mean. I knew what I looked like in that form, but that didn't mean I liked it. I looked...unsettling. My body was stretched out: wide and bare. It looked like I had metal rods instead of bones, no flesh to cover it up. My face was cracked like it was a mask and my teeth were razor-sharp; I may have been even more terrifying than Mother. Maybe it was because I was so used to seeing her walk around in that form more than I did in mine.

But thankfully, I have a human form. I’d much rather be in that one than be...this.

I rarely ever see my real body: needles all around with a head simply attached at the top. 

Though, I leaned in closer, staring at my reflection. I poked the mirror, tracing my facial structure.

Then, it changed. 
I saw movement in it. I took my finger off the glass and watched as the scene appeared.

...It...was a boy. He was putting on gloves and threw a jacket over his body. He was tall, about taller/same height/shorter than I am, with brown, curly hair and a tanned complexion. He was cute.

"Inspiration" I calmly said, smiling as I now knew what I wanted my doll to look like. But, instead of starting on it, I continued to watch this boy as he walked out from his house and got onto his motorcycle. He took the helmet hanging from the side of the machinery, and before putting it on, wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. He gripped the handles of the motorcycle, and after a few rumbles, he rode off.

Once he was out of sight, I started on the doll. I took out the finest yarn I could find and began threading it together to make a body. It was harder than I thought, seeing Mother do it so effortlessly over the years made me believe I could do it as well. Nonetheless, I got it done. I took out a darker shade of brown and sewed it into the doll's head. I made sure to curl the hair just like his. I made the clothes as best as I could from memory. His jacket had patches all over from other pieces of cloth. I wanted to replicate it perfectly.

After completion, I looked at it and gave a small smile, proud of how well he turned out. I even used buttons with the same hazel color like his eyes instead of the traditional black. I looked over the doll and touched its fibers, making my grin widen. I’m glad I made him.

I cleaned up any mess I made and grabbed the doll, going up to my room. I wasn’t planning on showing Mom because she had things to do, so she wouldn’t be interested. I put the doll inside my closet, where I knew she would never look, and went back downstairs to the kitchen. “Are you finished sweetheart?" I heard her ask. I watched her take out ingredients for the dinner she wants to prepare for the new guest tonight.

"Yes, Mother. I cleaned up as well."
 I heard her hum happily. "You know where to go when Coraline is here?" 
"My room or anywhere she isn't," I answered.

I always have to hide if the family doesn't have siblings. If they do, I portray them. But, if they don't, I have to always stay out of sight. Either that, or I go into the mirror. It isn’t prefered, as the room behind the looking glass is painfully cold; the decor inside being icicles and frozen rats. 

I sat at the dining table as she continued to prepare the feast. She turned around and handed me a strawberry, which I happily took and ate.

I'm not necessarily like her. We are of the same species, but I can somehow live off of human food, where she can only feed off of what her hunger is: fear. Mother can consume beings like bugs and children, but only after seeing them tremble-begging for their life to be spared.

Though, mine is happiness. I found out a while ago. I don't remember the story, but I know if the kids are happy, I am fed. That’s one of the reasons why she gives the children so much hospitality.

Mother informed me on a few details about this girl. Nothing too important to me, but she always tells me the details. The only thing I needed to know about her was that the girl didn't have any siblings. So, I was to stay hidden.

After a few more minutes of waiting, I stood up and left the kitchen to go to my room, where the thought of the boy entered my mind, along with questions.

"What's his name?"

"Why was he in the mirror?"

And…

"Is there a way I can speak to him?"