Ash falls like snow in a strange dystopian world of the things lost in innocence; the streets lined with crumbling houses made for dolls and figurines once loved so dear; ballerina's slumped on the sidewalks, fallen from their music boxes with no twinkling music to dance to. Everything here sat in a daze with no purpose. Sad and lost.
September was a Peg Wooden doll with rosey cheeks and blue eyes. September smiled only because she was painted to do so, but she was sad. September remembered only barely, the lovely little girl with green eyes and red hair who once loved her, carried her everywhere, wept to her after her father had hurt her, bruised her, broke her. Everyday, September felt the wooden stumps of her long peg arms touch to her chest and knew something was now missing.
September dreamt of leaving this sad world, were everything faded or stolen from the innocence of a child came to rot; Surely there was still that beautiful girl out there who could use her love.
Her dull blue eyes instead watched a once beautiful summer dress flutter in a stale wind, it's tatters dancing and falling, collapsing and losing more of itself to the dull sepia town they had been built upon.
September dreamt and dreamt. Her peg legs climbed and climbed, one day reaching the top of a crumbling sand castle and she stared out, her neck weak and her head leaning dangerously to the side. She swore she could a spot of light, colour and happiness miles and miles away from this seemingly never ending existence.
September jumped.
She felt as though she might be flying, rushing quickly to the arms of that girl, laughing with joy and spinning her round and round.
And then she hit the ground.
Her body splintered in ways she were not aware possible; her arms and legs snapping, the joints popping; her head spinning off of her cracked neck. She scattered into a thousand pieces, far from her freedom.
September lay there for hours, wishing to weep. Eventually her blue eyes grew tired and drifted to the cracked and splintered shape of her torso thrown down the road. Finally she could see, the same spot the wooden stumps of her long peg arms touched every day; a small hole carved through her body in the shape of a heart.
How odd, that this girl would toss her aside and yet keep her heart, leaving her numb and empty.
How odd.










