1. Blue

Chapter 1

Blue

Alone...

Lost in sadness,

Made from scraps and mishaps.

A silly mistake left to be...

Alone

" M ove!" I whisper while frantically shoving the small, whimpering child toward the open portal with all my strength. "You must return to your world and destroy the door! This is not the magical world you think it is. It's a living hell, and if you don't leave now, she'll destroy you! You need to forget this place ever existed!" I groan, trying to force the child through as he sobs, clinging onto me with his small, desperate arms. I can feel the darkness of this cursed realm closing in around us, chilling the air and weighing me down with its despair.

Tears stream down his face as he clings desperately to my stomach, frightened and unsure of what to do. I hold him tightly, feeling the weight of guilt and regret crushing me. This tiny human, so innocent and pure, should've never been lured into my dark world like so many before him. Those wretched toys, bringing these souls here to feed our Creator's insatiable hunger. I can't stand by and witness another fallen soul. I need to save him. I knew upon his arrival that his time was very limited. The Creator hasn't had a new child in many years, and she's starving. It took everything in me to break free from my cage so I could return him to his rightful world.

The screech of my Creator echoes through the night sky, a crackle of lightning illuminating the skies—my signal that time is running out. I have to make him leave and flee for my own survival before it's too late. Hell, it may already be too late for me. Doing this is the ultimate betrayal, punishable by only the most gruesome of deaths.

"Remember, you must break the door once you've reached your room. Do not hesitate," I repeat urgently as I shove him through the door, slamming it shut behind him with a resounding thud. My hair lashes against my face in wild tangles as my Creator's presence grows closer, sending shivers of fear down my spine. With trembling hands, I twist the doorknob, and relief fills me when I'm met with resistance. The glowing orb surrounding the door dissipates. Good boy . He's finally home, and with the bridge connecting his world to ours destroyed, he will forever be sealed off and safe from her clutches.

"You wretched rag!" A bloodcurdling scream pierces through the trees, sending me hurtling into a nearby tree with bone-crunching force. My head spins as I struggle to regain my bearings, but all I can see is a hazy blur of gray in the surrounding darkness. Suddenly, a vice-like grip seizes my throat, cold, skeletal, needle-like fingers curling around my neck as they slam me against the once peaceful tree that held the portal. The familiar scent of my Creator's putrid breath fills my nostrils as she hisses a guttural warning in my ear.

"This is the last time," she growls. "I spared you last time because you were young and new, you pathetic waste of parts! Now, I shall fling you into the depths of the Nightmare and let the Boogeyman tear you apart." My eyes widen with terror as a wave of dread washes over me. I knew what my fate would be, but hearing it spoken is heart-stopping.

"Please," I croak, my voice barely audible through her surprisingly strong grip. "I-I beg of you." My plea is desperate as fear and anxiety courses through me. The Boogeyman is the devil of our world and Nightmare is the hell he lords over. Being sentenced to him is a fate worse than death.

"Silence!" Her roar hushes my cries. "I warned you to stop destroying my portals!" she bellows, throwing me to the ground with a force that knocks the air from my lungs. I brace myself for another vicious blow, but it never comes. Instead, the ground beneath my body begins to dissolve, my limbs quickly sinking into fading sand, my stomach dropping as I fall into a dark vortex. I try to scream, to claw at the surface and save myself, but it's too late.

As I fall, I get my first glimpse of my Creator as she stares back at me, her shiny black buttons flickering while her smile curls into something sinister. "Let's see you stop me now, you worthless ragdoll." As her insult hits my heart, my body is pulled into the shadows, the world spinning into a dark abyss as I drown in the sound of my screams until it all collides into utter silence met with absolute darkness.

"Ohhh, aren't you a pretty little Dolly?" The eerie, whispered voice pierces my subconsciousness, jolting it back to awareness. I scamper backwards—as a bright light burns my eyes, causing me to shield them with my arm while trying to make out the figure. "Pretty plaything, lost and sad."

"W-who's there?" I sputter out before groaning as the pain in my head settles from the impact. "Answer me!" I cry out with all the fake confidence my small, broken, sore body can muster. I just hope it's coming off as intimidating, though with the intense light obscuring any details, I could be talking to a rock for all I know. That would one hundred percent be my luck.

"Havoc," the voice replies. Hands grip my arms, forcing me to my wobbling feet.

"Yes, you are creating a bit of it," I mutter. The stranger seems delighted by my statement, the sound of her laughter and squeals echoing around me.

"Havoc's name is Havoc. What's yours?" My vision focuses as I stare back at the most unique looking creature. No, not a creature—a person. Her hair is gathered into two buns atop her head, her face hidden behind glowing paint resembling that of a menacing clown, smeared and imperfect, eerie yet beautiful. She's dressed in a costume of sorts, also like that of a clown, her dark arms and legs fully exposed. My face twists in curiosity and fear as I realize her eyes are different; one is that of a human, but the other... It's like mine—a shiny, roughly stitched button.

"Dolly hasn't answered Havoc," she hisses, though I sense more amusement in her whisper than hostility.

"Blue," I reply slowly. Why is she talking that way? She's quiet for a moment before chuckling.

"Yes, you are."

"I'm what?" My head tilts, perplexed by her words.

"Blue," she whispers, popping up closer into my personal space.

"Ah!" I scream while stumbling back over my platform shoes, causing this Havoc woman to giggle.

"Why are you screaming? You can't be scared of Havoc." Cocking her head to one side, she points her finger at herself. "Who will be the match if you flee?"

"I can barely see you and you just... appeared!" I snap while trying to get my bearings. "Wait, match? What match?"

"Aren't toys supposed to have good eyesight?" She taps her button eye, grinning. The insulting term hits me, and I feel the heat rising up my neck.

"Don't call me that!" I snap while trying to keep my anger down. I hate being referred to as a toy. I know I'm not human, but I'm not a toy either. Those vile creatures are the ones the Creator sets loose into the human's world to lure the precious children to Dreadmoor, and I refuse to be classified as one of them. No, I am not a toy, but not fully a creation either. I'm the monstrosity in between; cut me and I bleed, I breathe air, and I have a beating heart. I have my own thoughts, wants, needs, but... my Creator is still able to control me. It's a terrible life, wanting to be free, wanting to think for myself, act of my own accord but having that little niggling in the back of my head, my Creator and her whispers reminding me who I belong to and who I serve.

I ball my fist at my sides as I square my stance, "The Creator equips all her creations with exceptional eyesight. as you should know with your doll eye," I state, gesturing to her singular button eye. Havoc cocks her head to the side before letting out a terrifying cackle, causing me to jump.

"Not a doll, silly! Havoc stole it." She slithers her tongue. The nail of her finger begins to tap against the button, humming lightly before skipping away behind a tree. I watch, wondering what she's doing. She returns, grunting while dragging a...

"What is that?" I cry out in horror as she drops the body between us.

"It's a man," she states boredly. "One of yours, yes." I notice the wretched state of the man, shaking my head as I begin to back away.

"Is... Is he dead?" Havoc giggles as her sharpened smile brightens.

"Of course! The Boogeyman doesn't half-ass anything." I feel my heart pound at his name.

"T-the... Boogeyman? You know him?"

"He lives here, little Dolly." Havoc grabs a handful of the dead man's organs, tossing them into the air like confetti as she twirls beneath the bloody mess. "We all do. Nightmare is our home, watched by eyes of black and always night." She stops, giggling as she turns and begins to walk away. "He's Havoc's boss man. One of an unknown pair."

I stumble over the messy scene she left behind, catching the missing button eyes of the creation while trying to keep up with her oddly graceful long strides. "You work for him? The Boogeyman? Is it true what they say?"

Havoc halts her movements, and her lips twist to the side as she cocks her head.

"What they say?" she repeats curiously. "What do they say?"

"Uhm..." My throat feels tight and dry, prickles dancing over the skin of my neck as Havoc slides closer to me, her scent invading my senses. She smells like a ghostly meringue, frightening and sweet. "They say he's the shadow on the night's moon, that when he locks eyes with you, your fate is sealed."

Havoc snaps her fingers as I jolt, gasping at the sudden movement. "Just like that?" she asks, her face twisting into an amused grin as I nod.

"He fills your dreams with a fright so dark that your soul leaves your body and wanders into night." Havoc blinks once, twice before throwing her head back and releasing a cackle I feel in my bones.

"Oh yeah," she giggles. "Boss man is so scary. Havoc shakes in her boots at the mere thought of him." She snorts, lifting her foot as she wobbles her leg. "Boss is losing," she sings while turning around, walking away. Her words make no sense. I run to keep up to her as she heads to the tree line of a thick, dark forest.

"Are you going back to him?" I ask, almost frantically as I hear the screech of feral creations in the distance.

"Of course, Havoc's not staying here to encounter the Nightmares." She huffs, gesturing to the night air, followed immediately by a distant snarl.

"Take me with you," I beg. "Please, don't leave me here in—" I glance around, spying the beaming moon above. I'm not in Dreadmoor anymore. I truly have been sent to Nightmare, a second world created solely for the purpose of torturing misbehaved creations, housing the bloodthirsty Nightmares, and tormenting the souls of the damned. My Creator warned me of this outcome, but I didn't listen... couldn't. And now, I'm lost in the never-ending night of this world.

"No can do–" Havoc scowls as she stares at nothing next to her, mumbling something. "No! Havoc won't disobey orders tonight! Because! Boss man said no more bodies in the tree house. Especially not toys. Havoc takes her, she dies."

"Wait, what?" Another screech fills the cool air, and I know whatever it is, is nearing us and fast. "If I join you, he'll kill me?"

"Havoc tried before, to bring... friends over to Boss' place. It gets lonely with just Sullen and Charisma. They don't enjoy Havoc's... tastes. And Boss gets grumpy being alone, silly bug, he sees nothing." She trails off before shaking her head. "No, Blue must find her own place here in Nightmare. Be a good Dolly," she coos, patting me on top of my head. "Stay away from the woods; they lead to your fate. Also, don't touch the body Havoc left. He'll turn to mush. Havoc hates mush... messy things." Havoc smiles, her sharp white teeth almost glowing as she fades into the darkness of the haunting woods. "Until the next game."

"Havoc, wait!" I call, but the sound of the approaching screeches grows, frightening me. I need to hide, to find my place, as Havoc said. What did she mean about the woods? That they would lead to my fate? And what game?

I waste no time as I begin to race away from the woods in search of a place to hide. A place to call home, as I'm doomed to remain here forever—discarded and forgotten, my punishment for defying my creator. Way to go, Blue.

My button eyes strain, still struggling to adjust to the unnatural and consistent darkness of Nightmare. Despite the alluring beauty of the full moon, its constant presence is unnerving, creating dancing shadows across the isolated grayscale world. Various abandoned buildings and dead trees perched from the dry earth as the small cursed world wrapped around, bleeding into the thick, haunted forest into which the strange Havoc disappeared. I scan the many homes and buildings in disrepair, the chipped paint of the exteriors peeling and flaking onto the ground like snow as broken shutters and unhinged doors creak in the faint breeze. Shadows and dark figures move behind the dusty windows of the structures, reminding me that I'm in fact not alone out here in this desolated nightmare, but instead, one of the many frightening beings cast into this exile.

I quickly shuffle past the buildings, my spine tingling from the uneasiness of being watched. As I continue further from the woods and lingering homes, I stumble across an old wooden sign growing from a single dirt path and read the weathered words aloud: "Dead On Arrival Furs and Taxidermy." An entire place dedicated to two of my favorite things: sewing and dead things. What a peculiar place to find out here. With my interest piqued, I honestly can't help but feel a little rush of excitement over the possibility of this being my new home.

Without further thought, I follow the overgrown dirt path and trample up a steep hill, the heavy soles of my platform shoes dragging in the dirt, until a large Victorian home slowly comes into view. It's old and antique, withered by the darkness of this world but still frozen in its beauty, encircled by large dead trees that loom and twist across the top of the house, encasing it in its own little world. I step closer, gasping as I take in the ambience of it all. Something about the home feels serene. The front door gently swings open, inviting me inside as if it was alive and welcoming me. My swallow is audible, and I touch my lips anxiously before stepping onto the steps of the wooden porch, the sounds of it creaking as I approach the doorway. I stare into the darkness, listening for any sign of life inside, hearing only the sound of my rapidly beating heart. Screeches echo in the distance, startling me and immediately reminding me of why I'm here, searching for a place of my own.

"I'll take my chances of finding someone inside over facing whatever that is!" I whisper loudly, scuttling through the opened door. It quickly closes behind me as I gasp. The world falls into a calming silence as my sight adjusts to the darkness, observing the interior of the abandoned place. It's breathtaking, the inside simple but pleasant, filled with old Victorian furniture covered in layers of cobwebs. The walls are chipped and weathered, plastered with numerous frames. I glance closer, realizing that within each bulky frame hangs a single bug, dead and pinned prisoner within its glassy tomb. I step down the long hall, observing each frame closely as my fingers glide across the dusty glass. The bugs are mesmerizing, the wings and bodies all unique and frozen in time, preserving their eternal beauty. The mini exhibitions of insects carry across the wall and throughout the home. The hall dissolves into a large room, filled with more framed wonders and grand furniture. Stuffed creatures of all shapes and sizes are positioned perfectly around the room, their stiff postures and beady eyes welcoming me. My hand grazes along each critter, feeling their fur as I notice their eyes have been replaced with buttons, sewn perfectly into place. More creations, just like me. It warms me to be among other creations, even if they're dead and stuffed, used as pure decorations. At least they have a purpose . I look around the spacious room, realizing that this place has been abandoned, all these creatures left unattended to. "I will care for you," I whisper softly.

After dallying around the bottom floor, I decide to climb the large staircase and venture onto the second floor. The wall against the stairwell is also covered in framed insects, much like the first-floor hallway, except that the higher I ascend, the larger and more elaborate the frames seem to grow in size. I can feel my buttons flicker at the excitement I feel, stepping from one step to the next, the wood creaking as I observe the large, dead, pinned bugs double in size and beauty. Are these critters native to Nightmare? Part of me hopes they are.

I reach the top of the second floor, immediately looking around. The upstairs only has a few bedrooms, most of which are larger and far more glamorous than anything I've ever lived in. They seem opulent, each classier than the last, until I step into the last room, the shock of it stopping me in my tracks. The room isn't elaborate or fussy, instead filled with basic furnishings and a similar aesthetic as the rest of the home, but what makes it perfect, and stops me in my tracks, is the large stained-glass window consuming most of the main wall, looking out into the world. The moon shines brightly through the grayscale glass, casting faint beams and dancing shadows out across the bare wooden floor as the limbs of the dead tree outside lightly rock back and forth in the wind, tapping at the thick glass, creating a sweet little tempo.

My body sways gently to the lulling beat as I began to sweetly hum alongside it. I peer around the room, spying a small pile of furs strewn across a simple chair. My hands delicately stroke the furs, chills shooting up my spine at the smooth, comforting feel of them. They're extremely soft, unlike anything I've felt before. What an odd sensation. I grab the top fur, wrapping the heavy material around me as my body instantly begins to warm up. I could use these to stay warm, like blankets . I become overjoyed at the idea of being able to not only sleep on a bed but have proper bedding and warmth. A place all to myself. In Dreadmoor, my room was nothing like this. I slept on a pile of old, tattered rags and had only a single candle to keep me warm in the cold darkness, one I had to conserve for both light and heat. Creations like myself aren't allowed the comforts of others, but instead are kept locked away until we are found useful—something I rarely ever was. I would carefully sneak away when possible, and over time, I learned the horrific truth of that wretched world and my Creator. It was a sickening thing to discover, leaving me to question my existence. I wasn't like the other creations; I was made from scraps, incomplete and tossed aside. A mistake. I didn't blindly obey the Creator like the rest. I was different, and always felt out of place. Maybe here, in Nightmare, I could finally have a place where I belong.

I quickly grab the pile of furs and toss them onto the bed, pausing, when something falls from them and lands at my feet with a thump. I glance at the odd shape, its tail and limbs sprawled out as I realize it's a creature of some sort. Slowly bending down, I discover the small pile of gray fur and skin is a partially stuffed rat. I poke at the frail thing, jabbing its fluffy side, checking if it's alive, but it doesn't budge. Its fur is patchy, missing in a few spots, its whiskers bent and frazzled, as if it was electrocuted at some point. I pick the lifeless rat up, its body flopping around like a ragdoll. It's missing an eye, the socket empty and dried, while the other is a tiny black button stitched poorly into the carcass of the small critter. Something about this little rat humors me. It's odd and unique, but in its own way, cute and comforting. I boop its little nose, giggling as I lift it with both hands into the moonlight.

"It seems we were meant to meet." I wiggle the lifeless body as the single button eye stares back at my own. "Hmmm, now what should I call you, little sir?" Instantly, the most random, yet fitting, name pops into my head. "Mr. Whiskers!" I stand, twirling the flimsy, partially stuffed rat around as I clutch him close. "The perfect name." I fall back onto the bed, nestling into the many furs as I quickly become overcome with exhaustion. I yawn, curling into myself as I hold Mr. Whiskers close, stroking his furry little head. "Just two misfits," I whisper, slowly drifting off into sleep.

For the first time in my life, I feel safe.