by Hex
"Dolls" Challenge #42 on GW500 community in Livejournal
A girl stood in the middle of a dark room, all alone. It was the girl, and the darkness and the dolls. She held her hands out into the darkness before her like a mad puppeteer.
And all the dolls danced.
She worked her hands and made them move. She made them bend, twist, and shift for her. They glided, stepped, dipped and bowed for her, before her. They splayed their arms wide and kicked their legs. Dancing the dance the way she wanted them to as she moved her hands in the dark.
And all the dolls danced.
Without her the dolls were still, but with her, with her the dolls moved. It was a dance she had seen before, a dance she studied and watched and dissected with her eyes. Oh no, this dance wasn't hers. It was like most dances: stolen steps, repeated repetitions and coveted steps. Each movement a copy, the posture a perfect mimic of something else, her choreography an echo to someone else's sound. Still, she moved her hands.
And all the dolls danced.
She made them move and spin, come together and separate the way she had seen, the way she had witnessed. Backwards and forwards, side to side and onwards. She made them move and play about for her. They danced this dance for her. She felt joy in the dark and moved her hands.
And all the dolls danced.
Somebody began to break her dolls one by one. They knew the backwards and forwards, the dips and the bows, the twists and the kicks. They knew the dance, had seen it, had witnessed it too. They danced a new dance around her. Still, she moved her hands.
And all the dolls danced
She felt joy in the dark and said his name as she knew he would be saying hers. She knew he would know the dance and she knew he would come to her. He would make his way there, to challenge her.
Dorothy smiled at the narrow clarity Zero gave her but still she moved her hands.
And all the dolls danced.
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