Claimer: This story belongs solely to Vanishing Roses.

A/N: Though this story is a bit jumbled up and confusing at times, it’s actually pretty serious. I was listening to Moonlight Sonata when I was writing this, so maybe if you listen you’ll be able to understand it more. Also, I know I repeat things a lot, but there’s a reason for that in the story as well. It’s a tad short, but it’s meant to make a statement, and I hope that it does.

Contemplation

The sun’s fingers reach down and caress against my aching body, so sweet, so far away. I open my eyes and stare up at the clear, clear sky, the water rushing around me, as I float in between the welcoming waters of the ocean and the warm sand of the beach. I close my eyes and try to move my body. Feeling nothing listening to my mind, I open my eyes once more and find that my arm and both legs had been torn off, wires spraying out from the gaping holes. “A Doll has no Blood, a Doll has no Flesh, a Doll has no Heart, a Doll has no Soul.” Those words resonate through my mind. But, a Doll has no mind, so what is it that I am think through? A program? A set function. All of my thoughts have been pre-recorded. I am thinking someone else’s thoughts. But, then, what makes my God and the God of Man so different? Perhaps it is that mine is far less loving.

Sitting up, I squirm onto my stomach and, using my one good arm, I inch away from the water. Slowly, slowly, I move away from the welcoming waves of oblivion. Not yet, not yet, I have not filled my purpose yet. And there it goes again. My programmed mind continues to whisper to me, continues to caress my numbers with foolish thoughts. A few more yards, a few more yards, a few more feet, a few more feet…and then I feel it. Drip, drip, drip…the sound of rain as it begins to fall across the great land, as if God is crying over the travesty that he has set upon the world. I stop, so near my destination, yet so distant from that far off, unknown place. I crawl into an alley, away from sight, and look up at the sky. What had I done to deserve this fate?

I was made. I was created by Man to please Man. My purpose was paper thin, but I no longer even have that precious paper with me. I am a Doll. A Doll with no purpose is not needed. I am not needed as I am now. But, I am a Doll, I have no heart, I have no soul. My mind is programmed with responses. I look up at the sky. The Human Weather is as fickle as the Human mind.

I was loved by Man, hailed as a treasure. Then, like all treasures, I was used, abused and thrown away. I still remember floating in the ocean, the waters holding me and taking me down lower and lower, water filling my wires and circuitry. Killing me. But what a sweet death it would have been. Human beings are born from within the calm serenity of the womb, but few have the pleasure of dying in one as well. I, a Doll, have never known of such silly things. I do not think. A Doll’s mind is preprogrammed by Man to think as Man does when Man is sober in order to remind Man on His Own behalf when He is drunk on His Own ambitions. A Doll’s only purpose…only purpose…only purpose is not a purpose at all. Paper will deteriorate in water, but never fully disappear.

My heart…the heart that I do not have is beating, beating….beating so loudly out of spite of all those who deny its existence. I look up at the rainy sky, the water falling on my cold, metallic and beating body. Slowly, like all thinks, my heart is beginning to stop. It beats so slowly now, and the world swims in front of my eyes. I see the mother I never had, I see the father I never had, the birthdays I never had, the first kiss I never had, the love I never tasted. I am a Doll. I have no mind. A Doll’s mind is a memory of Man. A Doll’s mind is another way for Man to kill and torture instead of create. Memories of another are racing through my mind. A mind I do not have. Memories are causing my heart to beat fast and faster. A heart that does not exist.

I close my eyes and feel tears fall down my cheeks. Tears, but they are not tears, fall down my cheeks. Dolls are slaves and nothing but. The Slaves of Man, who is a Slave of God who is, in turn, the Slave of his God. We are all Slaves to another, whether we know it or not.

I turn onto my side, I feel the end coming, so teasingly slow. I feel cold, welcoming hands caress my frozen skin, beckoning me. Cease my breathing, cease my function. A Doll is a toy. A Doll is granted a pretend life. I do not want a pretend life. I want a purpose. I do not want a crumpled paper that will float down a river and be swallowed up by the tiniest shower of rain and sun light. A purpose will make my life worth living. A Doll is a toy, nothing but. A Doll is granted a pretend life by a God that is granted semi-life by a God who holds eternal life granted to him by Death, who knows that life itself is painful and full of folly.

I turn onto my side as I hear a soft whimpering. I can still hear, I have not ceased yet, despite the ever present voice and the persistent touches. A kitten, a Life, about to be extinguished comes close, meowing and shivering in the cold. Death seems to not have found enough entertainment with me and has gone to fetch another playmate. I will not allow it. I reach out and take the animal, the Life, and shield it with my own broken and dying body. The warmth from the beating heart that I do not have shall keep the Life in my hand warm and living. A Doll is the slave of Man who is the slave of God who is so wise that he has usurped Death from his throne and now rules supreme. A Revolution shall come, or perhaps came and went. Without realizing it, Man has created Life, and like God, does not know what to do with it. Man has become God. God and Death…where have you gone? Man is but a child of five who cannot yet see above his own property, let alone rule above all. As Man has stolen the throne from God, the Doll shall steal the throne from Man. The cycle shall continue until no one has the throne and we all realize that there was no throne at all.

Life is like a flower. Short, beautiful and meaningless. I think, if there is Heaven, I should not want to be invited in. I do not want to go anywhere when I close my eyes for the last time. I want to not worry anymore. I want not to live with this pretend mind of mine. Perhaps there’s no Heaven after all in the Rule of man.

I close my eyes. The Heart stops and I still feel the kitten stirring under my still body. The air around us so cold and frigid, Death dancing through each and every rackety building, through every starving child, through everything, and I do not think that Man can continue much longer against Death. My mind grows blank as I began to fade. The kitten underneath me purrs.