As I looked down at myself, I knew I wasn't the same. My form was bulbous, and the beads could hardly hold me down since they were so scarce. I felt extremely uncomfortable, and my body tore apart.

My skin was visible, and I feared it. It reminded me of a past of labor, though I couldn't remember anything before the forest. I didn't want to associate myself with the humans in the picture books I saw, as Grandfather told me I'm not one. I'm a doll. In my arrogance, I thought I'm a superior and important being, as I was spoiled and treated as such.

The patches that fell apart terrified me, as I loved them as a human would fondly care for their skin. I never wanted to see my stuffing, so I greatly hoped my skin would hold, no matter how much I despised it.

I didn't bother bringing it up to Grandfather until I felt I couldn't move on. His eyes weren't in the best working condition, so I doubt he even noticed my stitches were coming lose until I told.

I sat on a wooden chair, and it was old and deteriorating. Grandfather was sitting beside me on a red-cushioned chair with faded fabric. The red was more of a dark pink from its wear. We were in the living room; which was one of my favorite places.

The floors and walls were both wood, and I could smell its rot. Wisps were lighting the room, as Grandfather created them to do so. I liked looking at the swaying fires of yellow and orange, but I did fear them with the knowledge I could easily catch fire. Chairs were scattered around the room in a horrible organization, but it was homey. A fireplace was by the chairs we sat in, but it was never lit.

I hated one thing in the room. More than hate, however. It was a massive envy that I tightly held onto, no matter how ridiculous. Paintings were on the walls, and another child was within them. We shared the same hair and eyes. Well, I originally had the same blue orbs. Smiles shot me down from where I sat, coming from both the child and Grandfather in the paintings. I was never told who this child is, but it was a huge weight on my back. The only thing that kept me from utter jealousy was the fact I'm a doll, as Grandfather seemed to love me as one.

While I sat on my chair, Grandfather pulled out a book and cleared his throat. I decided I'd tell him about my weight problem after since I loved hearing stories. His voice was mellow.

"Plush, this is a story from my childhood. I hope you enjoy it, as it was my favorite," he told me, smiling faintly.

I glanced at the cover, unable to read the title. But I could tell what the drawing on the front was of. It appeared to be a doll, and a childlike one similar to me.

"What's the name? It has an M in it," I asked, mentioning the M since I was starting to recognize some letters. I knew M and Z, and occasionally I'd remember one of the others.

"The Mage's Young Doll."

"You're a mage," I remarked, remembering that's what he called himself. He grinned.

"Yes. This book sparked my interest in magic altogether."

I mentally nodded, smiling inside my head. Grandfather coughed a bit from the dust that covered the book. After, he opened up to the first page. It was a simplistic picture book meant for children, images on every page. The first showed a lonely old man sitting in a chair.

"In silence, a mage sat. While he looked out the window, he puzzled how to end his solitude."

"What's soli... solitude mean?" I interrupted, and he smiled.

"His loneliness. Having no one else," Grandfather explained, and I acknowledged it. He flipped to the next page, and I saw a thought bubble coming out of the elder's head with an image of a child within. "The mage wanted someone to take care of, and a child was the first thing that came to mind. But he knew the child would eventually grow up, and he didn't wish for that to occur. He puzzled how to make an eternally young child to love."

"Why doesn't he want the child to grow up?" I questioned, finding it odd.

"Then he wouldn't be able to take care of it forever. The child would grow into an independent human and leave the mage," Grandfather explained. I gave a grunt of understanding, and the page was flipped. This time, the picture was the same. But patches were on the skin of the child this time. "The man came to a conclusion. If the child turned into a doll, it would need caring forever and the body wouldn't grow old."

I stayed silent, wishing to hear the rest before I mercilessly questioned my Grandfather. The next page had a child sitting on the side of the street. He was filthy; his stomach caving in.

"A child with beautiful red hair sat beside the streets, begging for coin. With an empty stomach and tears flowing, the child wished for nothing but a family. Fate worked its magic for the mage and the child," Grandfather read, smiling over his memories of the book.

I enjoyed the tale, noticing a lot of similarities between it and Grandfather and me. Though I was never on the streets from what I can remember, I do have red hair and I was wishing for my family when I ran through the woods. The next page had a picture of the mage walking by the child, and they stared at each other with fondness. The mage's hand was being offered to the child.

"One day when the mage was shopping, he stumbled upon the child while spit was launched by the face of such an innocent form. This enraged him, and he wished to care for the child. He offered his hand, and it was gladly accepted."

"Why would the child be spat at?" I asked, finding it odd.

"Those who did it likely thought the poor child was filthy and worthless. Someone they don't want in society."

"That's sad," I quietly said, mentally tearing up.

Turning the page, I realized it had a completely different feel. Tears streamed from the child's eyes while he was tied to a chair. The mage didn't have a menacing face, instead having a caring one. A needle was in his fingers, and patches were on the child's skin.

"That night, the mage decided that the child would be his immortal doll. He bound the infantile form, hurt since he left the child in fear. But he didn't waver. He covered the child in a new skin, smiling at the creation taking form."

"What does infontel mean? And waver?" I questioned, gleeful since I correctly said the second word. I knew a few more of the words on that page from earlier lessons he gave me.

"Infantile is used to describe a young child's thing or something like a young child. Waver is to be uncertain."

I understood, keeping a note of it. I enjoyed learning as much as possible, as I wanted to be intelligent like Grandfather.

Grandfather flipped to the next, and I stared. The eyes of the child were on the floor, and magenta crystal orbs were in their place. The Mage held the child in his arms, merrily gazing.

"The child's eyes were replaced with crystals, and stuffing replaced the flesh and bone. As a perfect doll, the mage loved and cared for the child. They spent years together, enjoying each other's presence."

Again, another page. The doll appeared the same, though his eyes had a mature glint to them. The mage was filled with sorrow, facing the ground in pity.

"The doll grew up, and that couldn't be avoided. Though the appearance didn't change, personality did. Without innocence, the doll wasn't the same. The mage's feelings dwindled, as he didn't have a child to care for any longer. Just the body of one."

"What's dindaled mean?" I asked, realizing I didn't know many words from this book.

"To lower in size."

Grandfather coughed, then he moved on. The final page came, and I was stunned by the picture. It portrayed the doll abandoned in a room, gazing toward the night sky. The mage was in the room beside it, locking the door from the outside while he cried. This child is a lot like me... But I can't see the sky.

"The mage locked the doll into a spare room, despairing as he did so. The child had so many thoughts in mind, but none made sense. The mage realized that it's impossible to have an immortal child, and he cried over his failed creation."

I sat in misery, crying without tears. Grandfather patted my back, trying to comfort me. My heart sunk.

"Plush, are you okay?"

"N-No! You're going to leave me! Mages leave their children when they grow old!" I wailed, screaming in my turmoil spawned from the idea of growing up and being ditched.

"No, Plush, I won't leave you. You'll be innocent forever."

"No, I won't! The book says I can't be!"

"Plush, you're different from this child. You'll never lose innocence. You're a child, and you'll always be."

I calmed down a bit, breathing in and out deeply. Once calmed, Grandfather hugged me. But my sorrow built up again when I realized I'd have to tell him about my problem.

I glanced at my body, then back up to Grandfather.

"Are you okay? Why did you start crying again?" Grandfather questioned, hugging me tighter.

"I should've listened! My body is uncomfortable! I can see my skin!" I shouted, sorrowful. I was finally able to pronounce "uncomfortable" after so much practice in my room, but it didn't make me happy.

Grandfather had a worried look on his face, scrutinizing me. His face turned horribly grim, and I knew he wasn't happy in the slightest. He swiftly picked me up, carrying me away to the sewing room.

Once within, I was placed on the familiar, worn chair. Grandfather sat in front of me, plucking a needle from the wall. It shimmered in his hand as some black thread went through the head, and patches were taken out. He plucked at my old stitches, which were already loose and easy to remove, and my patches fell onto the floor.

My patches were sewn back on, and my colored patches were meticulously placed back where they belong. The rest were sewn in no specific pattern, and more were put to cover all of my skin. Once completely covered, I was gleeful. I hated my skin, so the patches gave me a cheery feeling.

My problems ceased for the time being, and I continued living my life. I found everything enjoyable again.

I decided to cut down on stuffing, hoping to either shrink or stay the same size. Grandfather was relieved when I stopped gorging.

I mostly spent my time learning, practicing the words at night to remember. I needed work with pronunciation. I slowly learned more words and slowly decreased in size. As my body became smaller, the patches were redone over and over to keep me in a comfortable condition.

Nothing particularly strange happened until a year later when I learned of Grandfather's magic. Life magic. Beautiful life magic.