A Novelty- Chapter One

When I was a child, I was brought up in Lamberg, Transliva, in the hills. I was isolated from other people, the only other human being I ever met was my caretaker, Merrie. She was far from merry, but I was accustomed to her ways, and I knew she loved me.

Of course, I had seen others before, many in fact, strolling through the hills, either merely for a picnic, or some epic journey. Really, I would never know, because I was forbidden to talk to anyone. Besides, no one ever seemed to take notice to our cottage, hidden between two small hills. This fact killed me, and so I made a story up for each and every one of them. I found it quite amusing to pretend that man there was a peddler, going from town to town, selling his wares. Or that woman was a gypsy who told fortunes and could see the future. I would write my stories down, and then prepare to play it out for Merrie when she came with my midday meal. It was the way I kept myself sane. And preoccupied.

I had other things, too, but I always felt like they were a waste of time. The only toys, per say, that I ever paid attention to were the china dolls Merrie used to bring me every year. I used to cling to those dolls, and every year, the eve before my birthday, as Merrie tucked me in, I would remind her about my dolls. She used to bring me other things, too, fine things such as silk and embroidered tapestries to hang on the walls, but soon she stopped bringing such fine things. I didn't know why, I preferred it that way, in the end. I liked living, what I called, plainly. I would say I only needed those dolls for my plays, but in actuality, they were my life line. They were my view into the outside world.

I never knew why Merrie left me every night, and between every meal. There were also no sharp things in my little cottage up in the hills, not even a knitting needle, but that too slipped my mind.

Merrie used to say that age didn't matter, and that I shouldn't care how old I was, but I did anyways. Merrie said time was a nuisance, and that I didn't need anything to tell time with. I disagreed. I used to watch the sun move through the sky to tell the time, and at the end of every day I would make a scratch mark on the side of the wall with the only thing that barely had an edge: the locket.

I was born with that locket, and the strange thing was, it couldn't come off. There was no clasp, and it was so tightly wound around my neck, there was no way I could pull it off. One day, and I remember this clearly, when Merrie left me for too long, and I was angry, I tried breaking the chain. It came away easily in my hands, as if it was slippery rope that had been tied loosely. I was in wonder, because three years earlier, when Merrie had caught me making marks on the wall, she had tried to take the locket off my neck, but no matter how she pulled it wouldn't budge. Merrie was three times stronger than I was. I didn't have time to understand that, though, because that was when I was finally able to take a good look at the locket.

That locket was possibly the most beautiful thing I had even seen in my life, counting the tapestries and the rugs and the dresses Merrie used to bring me. The design was so intricate, so deeply etched into the shining silver, I was filled with awe. In fact, the silver itself was magnificent. It was so slippery and almost... watery, that no matter how I much dirt or grass I threw on it, it would slip off, unharmed, leaving the silver as bright and beautiful as before my attempts.

That night, though, as I saw Merrie trudging through the hills, looking exhausted, I felt badly, and I didn't want to upset her, so I panicked. I tried putting the locket back on, and to my relief, the chain seemed to slide together easily, as if they had merged. I remember, after Merrie had given me supper and dragged me to bed, I lighted the single candle again, and searched for a mark in the chain that would signal where I had broken it. Nothing, not so much as a dent, even though I had tried smashing the whole thing against the stone wall.

After that, I was more careful with the locket. Even though I was still only a child, I was smart, and I realized that, somehow, the locket that I had worn since forever, was special. And, although it scared me, it seemed like something I shouldn't throw dirt on.

When I had thirteen dolls, almost fourteen in fact, I remember Merrie didn't come home the whole day. I sat near the window, staring out the whole time. I didn't think. I didn't even care that I was starving and so dehydrated that I could barely stay awake. That day, I remember thinking that I couldn't survive without her. I wouldn't be able to.

When she came back, I was so angry, I hid in with the broom and rags. I wanted her to feel like she couldn't live without me. But she didn't even seem to take notice. She went about, making dinner, mixing some strange drink of herbs, and remaking my bed. I thought she would want to sweep the floor, and then would see me in with the rags, but she didn't. In fact, she looked... hurried.

I remember seeing her leave the meal on the small table, light a small candle, and pour me some of the mixed drink. I remember seeing her leave a bundle on the table. I remember seeing her put something heavy down on top of the bundle. And I remember seeing her leave. I remember not being able to call out to her, and I remember not being able to move. I couldn't. I could only stare. And then she left. She left me, forever. And Merrie, Merrie didn't come back.