Dollmaker

Chapter 1 ~ Alice ~

Alice stared at the rabbit. Its small, snow-white body stood alert in front of her. Trying to be as quiet as possible, she slowly walked toward it. Suddenly noticing her, it turned away and began running. Alice sighed. Animals had hated her. So had children. No wonder. After all, she was gloomy, dark haired, and barely got enough sun. With skin nearly transparent, she had looked like a ghost. The purple bags under her eyes hadn't helped either.

She sat on the grass, feeling lonely and annoyed, watching the rabbit quickly dissappear from sight. No one liked her. She was ignored at home and animals avoided her. She looked over her shoulder with a longing in her eyes.

The border between the forest and the city was her favorite place. It was quiet and she didn't need to worry about the nastiness of humans. She could watch the birds, while admiring their freedom and carelessness.

She had thought of running away a few times. Of living in the forest by herself. They wouldn't care, she'd think. They wouldn't notice.Or they'd be happier. Of course she never actually did it. In the end, she felt it wouldn't make a difference, really. It'd be the same with the animals. She'd just be ignored for the rest of her life. She'd probably end up dead and unnoticed in a cesspool.

Well, that's what she thought would happen.

Then one day Alice was at school, studying. She didn't know what it was. It could have been anything. But something inside her just snapped. And she got fed up. It had been building up inside her, the insidious loneliness and enmity for years until that day.

Snap. She became hysterical. She stood up and screamed. It was a high-pitched, awful scream. And she screamed and screamed. No one looked at her. In fact, no one even seemed to hear her. She screamed louder. Nothing. It was almost as if she were invisible.

It's been like this since then. Alice had come to the conclusion that she was actually dead. It would make sense. It made perfect sense to her. She probably did die in a cesspool somewhere and no one bothered to notice.

Now she was humming to herself and sitting on the grass. She felt cold all the time. She figured it was a side effect of being a neglected ghost. Then she laughed at it, because it felt ludicrous that even as a ghost she was neglected.

She decided to stand up. It was getting late. She'd better go home. Not that there was much of a home for her. She walked away from the forest and it slowly grew further and further away from her. The wind was blowing a bit harder now. She felt light; like the wind could just carry her away.

She passed the first buildings. She might have been aimlessly walking, but it didn't worry her that it was getting darker by the minute and she still didn't find a place to stay.

She took a left and walked straight into a narrow, maze-like street. The sidewalk was obviously forgotten as the pavement was peeling off and the street bricks falling out. She nearly tripped a few times. The decrepit buildings surrounding it were windowless and tall. There was something unsettling about it. It reminded you of how you could not get out.

Step. Step. Step.

Alice spun around and gasped. She was staring into two red eyes and they were staring back at her with an intense curiosity, which really didn't make her feel comfortable. Nevertheless, she was astounded.

"You can see me?" she asked, her voice shaky. The child nodded. Now that she took a better look at it, the little one looked unhealthy. It was a boy. His thin body was white. As white as chalk. So was his hair. His small build made him look very young. The only colorful things about him were his red eyes, blue lips, and clothes. He was wearing a vest with a red shirt under it and black trousers. His feet were not covered.

"You....you probably shouldn't be here," Alice started nervously, "um...streets like these are unsafe for children."

"Yes, I suppose so," he answered. His voice was surprisingly clear, making Alice fidget even more.

"Why can you see me?" she questioned after a pause. The little boy grinned, revealing large, pointy teeth. He cocked his head to one side.

"Because I was sent to get you. You need to come with me now, Alice," he replied.

"W-what? Who are you?"

"I'm the same as you."

"Dead." Her voice was flat. "You're dead."

"Yes. I am dead. A ghost, perhaps." His smile grew wider.

Alice wasn't one to trust people. Or ghosts for that matter. This one seemed especially odd, but something told her she should go with him. And it wasn't like she had anything to lose. She was dead after all. He held out his bony arm. She hesitated, but held hers out as well. Then he grabbed it and tugged quite hard.

"That hurt."

"Life hurts. You're dead."

They took off running and the child suddenly seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere. She noticed a pocket watch peeping out of his pocket. It was gold and pretty. She wondered where it was from.

It felt like they had been running for hours when they arrived. They stood in front of a giant tree and a hole. It was a rabbit hole.

"What's this?" Alice wasn't nervous anymore, but her nervousness was traded for confusion.

"Jump." The boy watched her with a grin splitting his young oval face.

"Huh?"

"You heard me. I said jump."

"Why? It's a rabbit hole. I won't even fit."

"Ah, yes. Here." He handed her a small bottle of a white fluid. A note stuck on it said: Drink me.

Staring at the boy almost amused, Alice took the bottle. "Milk? Excellent! Because of course milk has everything to do with this."

"Drink up." If the sarcasm in Alice's voice annoyed the boy, he didn't show it at all. Again though, she somehow found herself obeying this cocky kid.

When she swallowed, she felt nothing at first. Then suddenly her limbs began to ache and her head hurt. She watched in horror the spinning world in front of her and the boys grin seemed to be growing and growing. No. The boy was growing. Everything was growing. The pain became so awful, she shut her eyes and gasped for air. And then it stopped. The boy was now taller than her. No wait. She was shorter than him.