Have you ever heard of the term "Auto-Memory Doll"? I wouldn't blame you if you haven't a clue of its meaning.
Why don't we start from the very beginning then?
There once was a man named Professor Orland who was married to his wife Molly, she was a well-known novelist at the time and an inspiration for many. By a cruel twist of fate, Molly had fallen ill. The professor's wife ended up losing her sense of sight, robbing her of her innate ability to write.
Descending into a deep depression, Molly lost all meaning in her days.
Out of the aching pain in his heart for his wife's suffering, the Professor invented the machine that would give her life meaning once more. His invention was the machine that would later be known as the progenitor of all modern typewriters.
Although he had only intended to make one for his beloved wife, it later became popular with the support of a great number of people. A whole new industry was born from his one act of love for his dear wife. The term "Auto-Memory Doll" was given to those who took the occupation of a ghostwriter or scribe, their sole duty was to be the fingers of those incapable of putting their own words into writing.
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It was always my dream to pursue a life like that of a Doll, to be of assistance to others in need, and to travel the world wherever my clients needed me. Those romantic ideas were what drove me to study that machine, to memorise every key it contained and every word that was ever written. All so I wouldn't ever have to look down at my rapid typing fingers.
My passion was to help others through writing, that was the life I promised myself all those years ago in that small rural town.
But with life, not everything goes as you'd desire it to. The war broke out between the north and south, with my country being caught in the middle and my dreams immediately being put on hold.
Naturally, with my mother being the head nurse and my father being a soldier, he was sent off to fight and she was busy at the town hospital.
I still remember the night my mother asked for help to treat the wounded. Her brow trickled with sweat, she wiped whatever red residue remained on her arms onto the blood-stained apron she proudly wore. So from that night on I spent four years of my life dedicated to being a nurse in our small town.
Even though I could never be on the battlefield, just seeing all these broken men was as if I was staring into a shattered mirror. Most of them were around my age, each one once held aspirations that could have taken them to the moon and back. Countless dreams and fantasies are being put on hold thanks to that godawful war.
But unlike them, I had a chance, I still had the opportunity to follow those dreams, those childish fantasies of being a Doll and being free to help people wherever they may be. At first, I didn't realise I could do it. Not until I met him—the boy who came from the heart of the war's closing days, a boy who wasn't quite like any other—a boy who was a lost soldier.
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During the four years of continuous war, thousands of young men were wounded and killed on the frontlines. With an endless horde of injured soldiers pouring out of the battlefield, a solution was realised between the two most prominent southern nations. The Kingdom of Enciel was a state that was on good terms with the country of Leidenschaftlich. An agreement was arranged and a haven was established.
The countless wounded were given refuge and rehabilitation in the Royal Capital, Enchaîné, which is located on the eastern side of the country that was far from the war's destruction. The city was renowned for its medical institutions which boasted a long reputable history, not to mention that it hosted a great number of doctors and nurses. It was one of the many reasons why Enchaîné was chosen to be the host of such a large number of wounded.
Within the Royal Capital was a region not quite like the rest一it was rich in wildlife and poor in large human populations. The capital ran down the side of the country's vital railway and river, connecting the country to Leidenschaftlich and their southern allies. The now vacant section of rail leading to one of the region's run-down station was once in full use during the war. A prior lifeline for the constant stream of battered soldiers in need of medical assistance.
Bordering fenced-off apple orchards were two skinny dirt roads that were paved by the once-constant presence of automobiles travelling to and from the town.
The town, once filled with the constant rackety low humming engines of trucks, had all but gone quiet. The noises of war were pleasantly replaced by the howls of wind and the light thrashing of trees and the buzzing of cicadas—A stark contrast in the environment from what it had been for four long years. It was this unmistakable sense of peace that the inhabitants of the village hadn't felt and heard since the beginning of the war.
Children who had grown up in the chaotic environment were strangers to the concept of "peace". Some even found themselves missing the cars' clattering metal and the laughter of rehabilitating soldiers. Desperate to revive that life, the children resorted to using their adolescent imagination to play the part of those men.
Away from all the ruckus of the town, up another dirt road that branched off from the mayor's office was alone a two-story building atop an elevated piece of land. It was one time known as the busiest place in the entire region but it is now merely a fraction of what it was known to be. The Town Hospital calmed down from what it previously was, there remained a handful of patients in rehabilitation with only two nurses to keep watch over them.
One of which is a young girl who could be no older than the age of fifteen, whose hair was neatly tied into a fastened braided bun with no imperfections, donning a frilled white apron over her bayoux nurse's dress. The young girl wrung out a sopping cloth over a bucket of crystal clear water, fresh from the stream that ran adjacent to the building. She continued to wring the cloth of excess water as the other nurse hastily entered the lobby; mumbling concerned words underneath her hushed breath, never taking her eyes off the clipboard she carried.
Curious as always and worried for her mother, the young girl known as Zinnia looked to her focused mother and asked in a concerned tone, "Is there something wrong, mother?"
Hearing her daughter's voice, Synthia turned away from her papers and reassured Zinnia with a sincere smile and the truth, "I-I am fine Zinnia. It's just our newest patient, he still hasn't woken up yet..." Synthia's words trailed off into worried whispers.
"Still? It's been three days since he arrived, how could he still be asleep?" Zinnia questioned as she slapped her wet rag against the clouded glass. Moving her rag in a circular motion, Zinnia wiped the glass free of dust, dunking the rag back in the bucket before lowering her head in concern.
"Do you think... Do you think he'll ever wake up?"
Hearing her daughter's crushed query, Synthia could do little to answer Zinnia with the words of reality. Truth be told, Synthia wasn't sure if this patient would be able to wake up again, they handled similar cases to his during the height of the war. Not many woke up, most had succumbed to their injuries overnight, two days after they arrived.
By the time Synthia let out a heavy sigh, Zinnia had already cleaned off two more windows and moved to another across the room.
"I can't say... But we have to keep hope."
The daughter and mother linked eyes as they both understood what each truly meant in their words. Just then, the honk of a horn alerted the two women to the outside of the hospital, a truck marked with a red cross and white circle abruptly parked outside with a soldier opening the trunk.
"That would be the supplies for the month, right?" Zinnia questioned whilst wiping away the dripping sweat from her raised eyebrow.
"Mhm!" Synthia hummed with a soft smile, stepping out from the front desk. She approached the door with two large files, inside of which were papers for the doctors inside the city, containing reports of the remaining patients' health.
As her hand reached for the knob, Synthia asked her dotting daughter a favour, "Sweetie, if you don't mind, could you put Mister Bartlett on his IV? I have to get the supplies."
Enthusiastically nodding, Zinnia hopped to her feet and gave off a tender smile. Her mother returned one of her own before they went off to their separate duties.
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As the day came to pass, the azureous skies seamlessly faded into the abstract shades of the waning twilight hour. The remaining citizens that wandered the barren streets eventually found themselves back in their homes by the time the final shop closed for the night. Far off from the warm yellow glow of the lantern-lit streets and skinny cypress trees were mountains that stood tall, silhouetted by the remaining light the sun had to shine, shadowing the quiet town.
By now, dinner had been served to the patients within the hospital's walls and all were steadfastly asleep with the nurturing aid of Synthia. The mother and daughter stood silently across from each other underneath the hospital's threshold and swinging sign. A chilly breeze accompanied the still pair as they moved to embrace one another for the final time.
The young lady separated herself from her hesitant mother. Their auras stark in difference as Zinnia eagerly handed her mother a heavy basket of apples she had picked during her lunch break from the orchards down the road. It was something she would usually bring home herself at the end of the day but this time it was her mother's turn.
See tonight would be Zinnia's first night alone at the hospital. Overseeing the patients and their needs. Her mother, ever so worried, couldn't fathom that anything would not go wrong when she was gone. What if anything were to go wrong at the hospital? What if her daughter was harmed and she couldn't be there in time? What if by morning her Zinnia wasn't there? It was all she thought. It was all she could think. The stress from her paranoid fantasies began to show through the newly found wrinkles having creased at the corner of her eyes and the subtle tightness of her hug.
"Are you sure, Zinnia? You don't have to do this..." Synthia cooed, concerned for her daughter's safety.
Zinnia who wasn't taking no for an answer took her mother's hands into her own. Holding them gently, warming them with a warming smile.
"I got this all under control... You haven't had a night off in weeks since all the other volunteers left. Mother, just let me help once in a while, okay? I'm an adult."
Hesitant for what she hoped was the final time, Synthia knew her daughter was right. She was no longer the scared little girl who lost her father that fateful night. She was becoming a sprouting young woman with an ambition that could even rival a younger her.
"Thank you, Zinnia."
Synthia kissed her daughter a goodnight on her cheek, leaving her a bit confused with her mother's over affectous actions. Zinnia would only embrace her mother's warmth near the end, right before the sensation of her mother's love parted from her tender cheek. A sensation of loneliness, strength and independence washed over the young girl as she watched her mother walk down the humble dirt road. She made sure to keep watch over her mother till she had made it to the edge of town.
Zinnia sighed in relief that her plan had worked, she succeeded in finally getting her mother to rest and show she was ready for more. Zinnia hurriedly locked the double door entrance and resumed her remaining work on a patient.
His scared torso laid bare to the world as the young nurse carried out her responsibilities, the bandages steeped in semi-dry blood had to be taken off and replaced with fresh new ones. She knew this task was difficult and decided it would be best if her mother hadn't gone through with it at this hour.
With her delicate fingers, Zinnia delicately cleaned off the young man's wounds. Dapping away the crusty blood with a moist towelette, making sure it wouldn't be infected by the morning.
While she appeared to be poised and focused on cleaning him up, her only thoughts were of him. The way his chest rose and fell, how peaceful he seemed, sleeping without an ounce of visible pain on his face. It was a unique experience for Zinnia, seeing a soldier so wounded yet so at peace. Then she remembered reading his file, how he ended up here in her hospital.
He was one of the last that we've received. He had to be there, at the battle of Intense. He looks so young... Maybe he's even my age, perhaps older by a couple of months or days...
How could he look so calm? Even after taking a bullet to his stomach? Even after being knocked out by a bomb? How?
Zinnia's thoughts ran wild with the question as her eyes wandered his face and body, her disgust for blood grew numb to her as she easily touched a semi-dry clot near his wound. Wiping it away with a frustrated sigh questions that could not be answered.
Later on in the night, after Zinnia had accomplished all of her remaining duties she would find herself back in the comfort of the nurse's accommodation. Her fingers hands clasped and fidgeted with a golden pin in the shape of a curved wing. Messing with its broken needle with a hollow stare. Her mind was too alive to fall asleep, her thoughts remained clouded by the boy in the room above her own.
An hour had passed as she began reading a book.
By the next, she was fast asleep.
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Night came to pass and the young girl woke to the croaking of a rooster's crows. The sun had barely bled over the mountains, leaving the quaint town blanketed in the realm of shadows.
Zinnia stirred free from her slumber, rudely awakened by the rooster who she held a seething hatred.
Throwing herself out from beneath her covers, Zinnia huffed a dragon's breath, her hair was left a frizzled mess with saliva pooling out of the corners of her mouth.
Stepping free from her chambers, Zinnia was prepared for the coming day and what it entailed for her.