A doll moved through the house, as it did every day. It had its routine, pace set by the steady tick tick tick of its chronometer, and that meant comfort. It always found it better to just follow the routine.
But one day its movements were slow. It could not step in time with the beat, and each step hurt. One by one it fell behind on its tasks. First it took too long cleaning and drying the morning dishes. Because of that, it was late putting the laundry in the wash. It tried so hard to make up for lost time by rushing through the dusting and didn’t do as good a job as it would like, but still only finished just in time to switch the damp load to the dryer. And because of that, by the time the clothes and linens were all folded and put away in their proper places its sisters were already finishing lunch.
The doll could not stand the thought of its sisters worrying about it, and it decided it was feeling better, so it went to start cleaning the miss’s bedroom. It wasn’t even really hungry anyway. Well, so it told itself. And with the clockwork inside it, it didn’t need the food.
The afternoon went better. With the miss away at work that day, teatime was subdued. It remained quiet while its sisters chatted about the day’s tasks and giggled over little things they all loved. Talking was too much effort.
When the dolls dispersed to their afternoon leisure, it soon found itself sitting in the reading nook of the library, bathing in the afternoon sunlight. Its favorite book lay beside it, just where it had left it the day before, but the book remained unopened. Instead, the doll settled into a comfortable Stillness as the hours passed. The dull ache in its chest remained, but it was tolerable.
By the time the miss returned, it felt better, and dinner was even enjoyable. But the next day, that slowness and the pain returned.
It slipped further from its routine, not only missing lunch but sneaking away after tea to finish tasks it had left undone from the morning. After all, it would not disappoint its miss. And the next day, it did the same.
And the next.
And the next.
By the fifth day, it could tell its sisters were getting worried. It had skipped almost a week of lunches, and had been seen twice doing more work while the others played or read or sat in Stillness. And the way it sometimes stopped because the pain gripped its gears… Despite its best efforts, even the miss noticed.
“Dearest doll, come here,” they beckoned after dinner, pulling their key from their pocket while the others cleared the table.
It approached slowly, ashamed to be called out. “This one is sorry, miss, for falling behind on dusting and cleaning your room today. It will not let that happen again.”
“Pish posh,” the witch muttered as they pulled the doll onto their lap. “I know something is bothering you inside. Relax.”
The doll obeyed, forcing the tension out of its limbs and shoulder gears even as the miss gently pulled its dress down. It let out a pinched little gasp as the witch key slid into its chest, and felt immediate relief as its body swung open.
The miss poked and prodded for a few seconds, then said, “Hmmm… Just as I suspected. You caught a fungus from somewhere. Not a deadly one, but enough to slow you down, yes?”
“Yes, miss.”
“And I reckon it hurt too, yes?”
“Yes, miss.”
The witch smiles down at their beloved doll.”Thankfully, it hasn’t spread too far, so it won’t take me too long to clean.” And with that, they set to work, carefully removing piece after piece from the doll. Each cog and gear, each chain and spring was cleaned, examined, cleaned again if necessary, and inspected as many times as it took to satisfy them. For its part, the doll lay there in Stillness, feeling relief at its miss’s touch.
When the work is done, the witch closed their doll back up again and pet it on the head. “Good doll. Now, you’ll tell me or one of your sisters if you start feeling off again, yes?”
“Yes, miss. Thank you, miss.”
“And you aren’t going to push yourself harder than I ask you to, yes?
“Yes, miss.”
“Good doll. Now, let’s get to bed.” And the miss led the doll to the bedroom and cuddled it until both fell asleep.
A doll moved through the house, as it did every day. It had its routine, pace set by the steady tick tick tick of its chronometer, and that meant comfort. It moved with Purpose again. Its sisters smiled as it passed, happy to see it moving like before. Inside, under the porcelain skin it wore, it felt whole and clean and loved. And that too meant comfort.