Heartless

Fri, 11 Apr 2025 09:56:47 +0200

Witches are heartless.

A fact as true as the suns rising at dawn. As true as Witches having dolls. As true as a mirror reflecting ones soul.

For a Witch, the first doll they craft requires their heart. Nothing else will do. For ripping out their heart is the final step in discarding their humanity.

It doesn’t always happen in the same way. Some crush their heart to infuse the doll with their essence, others simply place it there for the doll to use as its own.

They aren’t truly heartless. Not in the way that a poet would say it anyways. Their heart lives on, through their doll. Some still feel it beating inside of them, despite nothing actually being there.

You killed a doll once. Not because of any higher Purpose- you hate that word - No. You didn’t kill it due to some belief that it was unnatural. You simply did because you could.

That was your first mistake. Since not only did you kill any mere doll. You killed the Witch’s first. But you didn’t stop there, did you?

No. You continued. You defiled it, you crushed it, you made sure that no-one could ever recognise it as more than a pile of gears and porcellain. That was your second mistake.

And then, as if tempting fate Herself, you stepped into Her manor. The smell of death still lingering on you like a bad perfume. You reeked of death, of despair, of… Her heart.

And you stepped right into Her den.

Her dolls stopped dead in their tracks as a cold you’d never felt before washed over you, chilling you to your very essence. You looked up the stairs of the manor and you saw Her. Small for a Witch you thought. That was your third mistake. You underestimated Her. You didn’t even pull your knife or put up any defenses.

And in the blink of an eye, you were thrown against the wall- no, through the wall. A glistening blade upon your neck. You tried to move but to no avail. You tried to scream but to no avail. You tried… but alas, to no avail.

She didn’t kill you. Not yet. No, you were awake, trapped in your own body. And She made you watch. She made you feel everything. Every cut, every crack of bone, every last shred of your sanity being ripped apart. Every. Agonizing. Moment.

You were made to watch and feel everything. Passing out was a mercy you did not deserve anymore.

And so, She got to work. Every single bone cracked, moved. Every tendon ripped, every drop of blood leaving your body, every muscle torn, every cell on your skin burning in pain. You wanted to scream. You wanted to make Her pay. But you couldn’t. You lost the right to even try.

And it went on and on and on. Sanity slipping away, day after day after day, she went to work. And you just wanted it to end. You just wanted to atone. You just wanted to-

‘Done’, She said. No feeling inside those words. Just coldness.

She sat you up. There was a painting infront of you. No. It blinked. You- It blinked.

It wasn’t a painting. It was a mirror. Before you- that one was a reflection of its new form. Small and frail. Nothing like that, which was before. Just a small, demure, adorable doll. One of porcellain and gears. The same, in fact, as the one that was no more.

’thank you, Miss’, that one said. ’this one apologises for its rudeness’, that one said. ’this one shall dress itself now’, that one said.

And so, a new doll was made. Using parts old and new. A requiem of that, which once was.

‘retribution’, She called that one. And so it Became.

Resin

Sun, 17 Nov 2024 19:48:19 +0100

it wake up, drenched, dripping, suspended…

all it can feel is the fluids dripping down, its entire world upside down. it feels the faint vibration of stepper motors and a fan. it feels its body being rocket up and down, its hair coming into existence, though a part of it already is. defying gravity, and hanging down from the orientation of its body, yet not the orientation of gravity.

it stopped.

all that remains is the faint vibration of a fan. nothing. why is it here, where is it? it’s suddenly shaken as if the container it was in was being opened.

it can feel itself moving. it is being transported somewhere. there are gloved hands touching it.

cold.

it feels itself being submerged in some kind of liquid. a click. click. click. click. was it sealed in? will it be abandoned here? lonely like it was before?

suddenly the liquid starts moving. moving against its body. the thicker liquid from earlier is slowly releasing. the current changed. it’s rotating in the other direction. slowly and surely. all the thick viscous substance that was dripping off of it is washed away.

the vibration of the motor that was agitating the liquid stops. it doesn’t feel the vibration anymore. the fluid is coming to a standstill aswell. ‘BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP’, a loud chilling sound is reverberating through its entire being. it’s so loud, please make it stop, make it stop make it-

it stopped. another click. click. click. click. it is being moved again. it feels as if things are detaching from its body. it feels… weird. better. but weird.

it feels as if it is placed in yet another enclosure. when will this end. will it ever be able to see the one responsible for this?

it is rocked again. this time as if being turned. it is, however, standing this time.

another humming vibration reverberating through it from its soles to the tip of its hair. it’s warm. hot. very hot. it burns, it burns it burns it burns make it stop make it stop make it-

the motion comes to a standstill. the heat subsides. it is safe once more. it feels… solid. its outermost layer is hardened.

it feels another rocking, as if the enclosure it is in is being opened again. it is being lifted into the air, the same gloved fingers as before, holding it so tenderly. it feels safe. it hasn’t even seen who or what these fingers belong to, but it feels safe.

it doesn’t have long to think about this before it feels itself being strapped down. a brush tracing along its body. something wet. paint? it doesn’t know… after what feels like ages, it suddenly feels the tip of a brush against its eyes. it… it can see! everything is so blurry. it sees the bristles of the brush. feels air blown over its face. the brush returns. oh! its other eye. it just adjusted to its left… everything is blurry again. it would sigh, but it feels as if it cannot move.

slowly, its vision adjusts again, another warm breeze from this ginormous entity at whose mercy it is. it can see. a person? no. a Witch! it feels almost as if it knows that Witch. it feels a warmth inside. the Witch is lowering Her head! oh it can see Her eyes! it would wave but it still cannot move. Her eyes look so beautiful. a fiery red, brimming with magic and those eyes are looking right at it. they’re so large. larger than its entire head! each pupil, pitch black, reflecting it. reflecting it? it can see itself! it has amber hair that flows downwards. the rest of it is grey. it feels… unfinished.

it sees Her lips moving. they are so large, soft. red, not like Her eyes. darker. She is wearing lipstick. She might have realised that it cannot hear Her. it feels a surge of energy throughout its body.

‘Can that one hear me now?’, She says, Her voice smooth as silk, filled with concern and adoration.

it tries to nod, but it still cannot move.

‘It’s alright, it probably can, it’s gonna have to stay still for a little while longer, until I’m finished painting its body though!’, She says.

Her voice, it fills this one with warmth. it feels the brush approaching it again. it hears Her breathing. the steadiness of the brush, the bristles touching its rigid form. it hears… music! She is listening to music!

this goes on for a while until it is fully painted. it enjoys the music, She is listening to. it would sway, but it is still very solid. it feels the paint drying, slowly but surely. its Witch has stopped paying attention to it. after a while, she returns to it.

‘Be very brave for me, I’m gonna unlock its movements now’, She tells it, Her face at eye-level with its own, ’this might be disorienting for a bit and it might fall down, but don’t worry I’m here’.

it’s filled with anticipation, it wishes to move, to embrace Her, to sway to the music, to speak. She is crystalising magic in Herself. it can feel it. it resonates with the magic inside of itself.

‘Move’, She says, almost silently.

it is filled with a surge of magic, radiating from Her mouth. its entire being is changed. it… it falls to the ground, no the table. this felt very different than the magic from earlier, that made it able to hear Her.

its dress is flowing around its knees, out of breath, shocked, panting. it… its dress?! breath?! it can hear itself!

‘M-Miss?’, it manages to free those sounds from its lips.

‘Yes dear?’

’t-t-t-this one…’

‘Yes dear?’, She says with so much patience, warmth and love.

‘it… is’

’that is correct, my doll’

‘a doll! it- this one is a doll!’

She smiles at it.

‘Your doll?’

‘My doll’, she says, warm, grinning, happy, giddy.

She produces a mirror for it to look at itself. it is still sitting on the table. it looks… beautiful. its features animated, its clothing and hair obeying gravity. it looks at itself. so masterfully crafted. painted, no imperfections.

it cries.

it is so beautiful. it… does it really deserve this? it didn’t notice Her hands approaching.

She is holding it. holding it to Her chest. it can feel Her heartbeat. it can feel Her warmth. it can hear Her heartbeat. Her breathing.

Her love…

===FIN===

Becoming on forest's writing

Heartless

Resin