AN: This was written for an AP Lang project regarding the Allegory of the Cave. I sewed replicas of the two dolls to present along with this short story. It's supposed to be kind of like a kid's story, but... y'know, not... - Larken

Once upon a time, there lived a little girl who loved to create things. She was a talented girl, but she always had a small problem with completing her handiwork. Forgotten paintings and neglected pages of poetry were piled high all over her room – not just arranged in neat rows on bookshelves, the way other people kept them, oh no! Canvases stacked themselves under her desk, on the chair, in the corners of her room. There were pages ripped out of notebooks on the floor and on her bed. Books on the TV set and in the closet, small piles of books, tall piles of books, with pens and paintbrushes strewn all over the floor.

The very first project she ever finished was a little doll with smiling lips and button eyes. She named him Abel.

The girl loved Abel very much, and she breathed life into him every day. He watched her with his black, button eyes and felt her warmth when she held him at night and read stories to him. When she left for school during the day, Abel would sit at the window and watch the world pass by. Through the glass he saw blue skies and green grass, and when he turned back to the bedroom he need only stare into a painting to catch a glimpse of places beyond the window.

The girl brought the outside world to him through these paintings, and Abel gradually fell in love with the Earth.

Many years had passed since Abel's creation when the girl started to cut up fabric and sew again. Slowly, Abel began to shape the creation with his mind; another doll like himself. He recognized a head and a torso.

This is fabulous! He told himself. It won't be long now before I have a friend to share these stories with! Everything I've seen will finally pay off!

Abel waited for many days, eager if not impatient for the arrival of his new companion. Days, weeks eventually passed, and he never heard word of the other doll. Until one day, the girl put Abel up on her shelf. An incomplete mound of cotton and fabric sat at his side. Abel recognized him immediately as the other doll, the one without arms or legs.

What is your name? Abel asked.

I have no name, replied the doll.

It was then that Abel noticed that the other doll's face was blank, save the lines that created a mouth that curled downward.

Tell me friend, Abel inquired, how is it you see without button eyes?

I see nothing, the doll murmured. It does not matter how hard I try; when I strain my eyes there is just nothing... perhaps it's because I do not have a pair of my own.

This disturbed Abel. After all, how could one have lived in this world so long without experiencing it to the fullest, and still call it living? At that moment Abel spied the sewing needle hanging from an incomplete stitch in the doll's body.

He smiled, and lightly touched the doll's back. Don't worry yourself any longer, friend. I am going to complete you.

Abel used the needle to sew his own hand to the doll's back, so that he would be able to find him when he, too, saw nothingness. Once he was sure the binds were tight enough, Abel tore out his button eyes. He worked blindly for years to sew the eyes on to his friend, always whispering stories of the white flakes that fell from the sky or the twinkling lights that only came out at night. But when he squinted into the new found darkness, Abel could not recognize the change occurring around him.

The girl's creations began to darken as she grew older; blood stained the once blue oceans of her paintings, until eventually she stopped painting all together. Most of her books were auctioned off and never returned to the shelves, and she didn't read to Abel anymore. Every once in a while Abel would hear a new voice, a young boy, who later broke the girl's heart and left her to cry at night.

Abel wondered why the girl did not cling to him any more when she cried. Was it because he was suddenly a stranger to her without his eyes? Was it because without his eyes, he was ugly?

In that case, he told himself, it is better that my friend should be given my eyes, so that he too can feel her warmth and hear her stories... it would be selfish of me to presume otherwise.

Finally, after many more weeks of relentless needle work, the doll was "complete," as Abel would say. He was still left without legs or arms, but he could see.

He saw the girl.

He saw the letter she left on the bed, he saw the scabs on her wrist. He watched as she stood up on the chair and knotted the hanging tie around her neck. He saw her kick the chair out from under her feet; he saw her body dangle and choke, until eventually the choking stopped, and he watched her body turn blue.

So, my friend, Abel said gleefully, now that you are a finished product like me, what is it you wish to name yourself?

The doll bent his head forward when the girl's mother discovered the lifeless body. As the older woman fell to her knees and let out a piercing scream, the doll replied, I wish to name myself Blind.

End