Painted Lips

She spoke to me, painted lips unmoving, and the next thing I knew, I was driving home from that estate sale with her buckled safely in the passenger seat.

I carried her inside, sat her on the sofa with some nice embroidered pillows, and started tidying the home.

The house really needed a lot of cleaning, and I hadn’t been able to muster the energy lately, but I felt inspired to start at last. It was easier with my new friend watching me. Even when I was in another room I could hear her whispering encouraging words to keep me going.

The next few days breezed by, as though in a dream. Soon the house was flawless from top to bottom, and my friend was so very pleased with me.

It never occurred to me to wonder how a doll could talk; it just felt nice to listen and follow instructions.

The next thing that needed work was me.

By now my friend had hopped down from the couch and was walking around on her own. She accompanied me shopping for clothes, makeup, and accessories like nothing I’d ever worn before. I tried on and bought everything she liked to see me in.

She threw out my old t-shirts and jeans and replaced my entire wardrobe with one that suited her tastes for me: all pretty, colorful, and frilly dresses.

She painted my face in makeup and gave me a soft kiss that sealed it permanently to my face.

It was so easy to continue doing everything she asked, and she would regularly praise me and reward me with another soft kiss whenever I did well. Each kiss filled my head with indescribable softness that muffled unpleasant thoughts and anxieties.

By the time I realized the house was effectively hers, it was too late for me to care. I loved serving my witch. I didn’t want anything else any more.

I am a good doll.