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She was beautiful. A creation of his own handy work. A mechanical doll built from scrap components he had salvaged from a junkyard, just like everything else he had made. The toymaker barely had two pennies to rub together and pay for food, never mind buying new materials for his work. He had been working on his newest piece for several years now, mostly keeping it as a side project for when the ideal parts became available.
Happy with his progress he stood up from his rickety wooden desk, chipped and scuffed in many places. He had spent many years cooped up inside his hovel of a workshop, working tirelessly every day since he was a young boy, first assisting his father with his work until he took up the mantle himself. The walls were plastered with odd sketches of old projects and musings, each drawn with charcoal or inks and coloured with age with some corners ripped. While the craftsman was only in his mid-twenties, his brown hair was streaked with grey from stress complementing his tired, almost wrinkled hazel eyes. He smoothed down his oil-covered apron, the edges frayed, cleaning his greasy hands on the fabric. He picked up a pair of brass-framed glasses and begun to inspect his work.
She was five-foot-tall in height, one of the largest of his creations. Her skin was porcelain-white with rosy cheeks. Honey-brown curls framed her face and cascaded down her back. The toymaker had dressed her in an off-coloured dress, that had once belonged to his now-departed sister. It suited her well. He turned the large copper cog, that rested on her back, a few times, allowing the doll to start up. She fluttered her eyelids twice before revealing her sapphire-dyed eyes. She was perfect, almost human. She took her first breath, her glossy pink lips departing from one another.
The toymaker had created his perfect companion. Crystal tears streaked through the grease on his cheek, no longer would he be alone. He couldn't help but wrap his arms around the doll and let out his pain.
ns 15.158.61.21da2
