Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26020030-20150322163937

I've got two kids. People say I suffer from a strange... syndrome, of sorts, but I think they're talking nonsense. I'm perfectly fine, and a very caring mother for my two children. A baby boy, and a bit older girl. They're happy, and their state reflects my own - I am perfectly happy and living a normal life.

I work as a seamstress in a local workshop. I earn little. I manage to scrape enough to keep both ends running. My children are never hungry. Oftentimes, I do not eat if there is not enough money for all three of us to have a meal. Or I scrape what they leave behind. It's not the worst, I guess. I don't live in the streets, begging like others do.

Sometimes, though, I earn enough money to buy some material and fashion toys, which I then sell to kids around town. It helps me get by.

That's my average life, really. But it did change today.

Social Services came. They deemed that I'm unfit to be a mother. They said nonsense. They said I don't earn enough, they said my "mental state" is a danger to them.

I cried. I was to lose my daughter in two days.

She cried too. She wanted a memento of home. Something that would remind her of her baby brother. She loved him a lot. She wanted him to come along. To stay with her.

I had an idea. I would make her a doll.

When they came to pick her up, I cried, but I gave her a doll I fashioned in his image. She was overjoyed. I had done my best work to fulfill her wish, I spared no expense to create it. No expense, indeed.

They left, and my tears had dried in the whole paperwork procedure and long goodbyes.

I turned to my cellar, wanting to prepare myself a meal.

I only took a moment's notice to smile as I passed by the baby's corpse, skinned completely.

Well. I guess her brother really stayed with her, in a way. 