Extra: My computer kept on glitching out and shifting the text to different places so if anythings seems off I'm sorry about that.
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As a child magic isn't an out of this world idea. Fairies, spells, witches, magical creatures. They aren't just fairytales. In a world with soulmates, disbelieving magic is even more illogical.
Every child grew up hearing about soulmates. You felt their pain. For some it was highly unfortunate, but for many it was a small price to pay if it meant finding your other half.
My parents loved to tell the story of how they met. My father a baker, and my mother a tailor. My father ripped one of his working shirts and went to my mother to get it repaired. It was a small hole, something she could easily fix while he was there with a simple needle and thread. While pushing the needle through the fabric my mother pricked her finger. She jumped in shock, as did my father. They exchanged excited looks. Knowing looks.
My parents married soon after and had me. Just as their parents had done for them, their story of love was commonly told to me, until I could relate it word for word myself
Like many other children I was impatient to meet my soulmate. Many had to wait until later in life. Some never manage to find them. A rare few connected when they were young...
"(Y/n), honey, can you take this to Geppetto the woodworker so he can repair it?" My dad held out one of his larger tools, the handle disconnected and fracturing.
"Sure!" I set the tool in a basket, skipping out of my house and onto the small road that led everywhere in the town.
Just a few doors down was Geppetto's workshop. I peeked my head inside before walking inside entirely. Looking at the hanging clocks, decorations, and in progress projects. Curiously, I walked over to the front desk.
"Hello? Mr Geppetto?" I called out, struggling to see over the tall counter and into the back workshop, "My parents sent me. They have a tool they need you to repair."
"You're looking for my father?" A childish voice asked from behind the counter, "I can get him for you if you need me to."
"Who's talking?" I asked curiously, struggling even more to see over the counter.
Two strange hands gripped the edge, pulling a wooden body up top and onto the counter, "I am!"
I gasped in shock, nearly falling back as I stumbled. A puppet. The boy I was speaking to was a puppet. Made of wood, with an interesting nose. No strings, moving freely. Almost like a real boy. But he wasn't...
