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lovefromlea · 5 years ago

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Author’s Note: Taken from my original idea for ‘Doll’, which can be read here. I used it as a starting point for a competition submission. The task was 1,500 words for a local festival.

“Sophia Wells,” a stern-looking policeman popped his head out from his office to call. I was in a little bit of a daze, the trip down to London was a tiresome one. I got up from the stiff wooden chair and made my way over to him, clutching onto my leather satchel tightly with both gloves, “Come on in,” he said with a smile as I approached him, noticing the name Harris on his badge. The officer had one arm outstretched, ushering me to hurry inside, with a nod I followed his hand and into the room. I walked into the centre of the room taking in my surroundings, this was the first time I had ever ventured into the city, not to mention my first time within an authoritative establishment. But this was something I just had to do.

Officer Harris interrupted my thoughts with a tap on the arm, “Please take a seat Miss Wells, I assure you there is nothing to worry about,” he said with a smile which seemed out of place on his chiselled complexion. If only I wasn’t welling up with anxiety, I might have believed him. Despite my insecurities, I took a seat opposite him, “My assistant tells me you would like to file a missing persons report, is that correct?” he asked, I nodded to agree. He shifted himself about in his chair and gathered the relevant paperwork from his top drawer.

“Firstly,” Harris continued, “Let us start by taking your name and occupation,” he looked up from his paper, holding an ink pen firmly.

“My name is Sophia Wells and I am an automaton,” I replied instantly, raising my voice an octave higher from nerves.

The officer was a little taken back, “An automaton you say?” he asked. I nodded in reply as he slumped back into his leather desk chair, “Who created you, why did they create you? You look almost human.” He was notably in shock, but I failed to understand why. Automaton were popular in the city, built to imitate human beings and made to perform numerous tasks so the humans wouldn’t have too.

“While I have very little knowledge about my purpose in this world, the only thing I am truly certain of is who created me, even if I am unaware of why they did,” I replied, allowing my mechanical hands to fall into my laps, “My master was a man of very few words but he was a genius with his hands. In my opinion, which may come across bias, his creative mind was without parallel, even if no one else agreed. We always found it was us against the world, even if our venture was short-lived.” I tried to explain without rumbling on too much, it was a habit I was desperately trying to break.

Harris sat up from his leather seat, interlocking his fingers on top of the desk and resting them close to his lips, “And what has brought you to me today? Is your master okay?”

I shook my head, “He disappeared a few months after my creation and for the first time in my life, I was alone. He barely left a trace, like he never even existed. That was until I found his letter,” I said, pulling my satchel into my lap and slipping on hand inside to retrieve a cream-coloured envelope with a broken wax seal on the back, “It hadn’t occurred to me how long that may have been sitting in his workshop. I found it hidden under some old paperwork lying on his desk.”

“How did you come across it?” Harris quickly asked, jotting down a few notes on his paper.

“I thought I might be doing him a favour, ensuring his workshop was clean and organised for his eventual return but maybe my optimism clouded my judgement. But upon closer inspection of his rickety desk I concluded that my master must have planted it there himself before his disappearance. Perhaps in hope I would discover it one day,” I said keeping my sapphire eyes on the page he was writing.

The officer looked up from his desk to throw me a pair of tree-bark dyed daggers, “Do you believe your master’s disappearance is premeditated?” he asked, running his free hand through his salt and pepper beard.

“I believe it is certainly possible,” I replied quickly, “But I have no way of knowing for sure.”

“I see,” Harris said, his dark brows knitted together. He too thought it was a hoax enquiry, just like the officer back home., “I think I have everything I need. I will call you if my team finds anything, Miss Wells. I hope you have a pleasant day.” He shuffled up from his chair, gathering up the paperwork presumably to file away and never be seen again. I bowed my head in respect and left the way I entered.

A few moments later I found myself back on the streets of London, feeling no better than I had when I was back home in Ethertown. I looked up at the sky, eerily grey from the smog pouring out of the nearby factories, while my thoughts ran back to my fondest memory. The day I was given life into this world.

While parts of my memory still remain hazy from that day, I remember the first time he looked at me. How his tired hazel eyes fell upon me for the first time, the ecstatic smile he wore when he realised his vision had come to life. My master Alexander Wells, had spent too many years cooped up inside his hovel of a workshop, working tirelessly everyday to make ends meet, earning hardly enough to get by. He had been an apprentice first, working closely underneath his father, assisting with the toy masters work until his death. Alexander was forced to take up his father's mantle and continue the family business.

I remember the first words my master said to me when I awoke, he said I was beautiful, a creative masterpiece from his own hands. He explained I was an automaton, a mechanical doll built to imitate human life. Alexander had constructed me using only components he had found in the local scrap yard or bought cheaply from nearby merchants. When I awoke I looked around the workshop, noting the number of scrapped machines littered about the floor, all was created using similar salvaged components as myself. The walls were plastered with odd charcoal sketches of old planned projects and musings, some had been coloured with inks, the pages mostly faded from age with various tears here and there. To my left I saw Alexander standing in the centre of the room with his jaw to the floor and his right hand running through his mud-brown hair, streaked with grey, presumably from stress. He smoothed down his oil-stained apron, the edges beginning to fray, cleaning his greasy hands on the fabric as he took a step closer to me. He picked out a pair of bronze-frame glasses and began to inspect me; my soft porcelain skin, the honey-blonde curls that framed my face.

He explained I was built in the image of his late wife, she had been stricken with illness shortly after they married. My master gifted me the name the pair had saved for their unborn child, Sophia Wells. I was overjoyed. Although I had only just taken my first breath, it had already seemed like a lifetime we had spent together. In that moment he realised he would no longer be alone, he enveloped me into a warm embrace and let out the pain he had been concealing since her untimely death.

Alexander spent most of his days hunched over his rickety wooden desk, chipped and scuffed in many places. I once tried pleading with him to allow me to fix it up but he wasn’t too fond of the idea. It had been his father’s and his father’s before him, an unedited treasure to remain as the other one before them left it. I joined him everyday, cooped up in the workshop only to venture out when we were in need of food supplies. I had wondered if he was embarrassed of me, a man owning an automaton in poverty was almost unheard of, but my loyalty never wavered.

Back to reality, I dove into my leather satchel and retrieved a poster I had drawn myself, featuring an image of my master. I walked up to the wall, already littered with a number of other missing posters and added his beside them. With a heavy heart I decided to walk away, trying my best to make sense of everything. I just hope one day we meet again, for I have too many questions I need the answers too. I want to know why I was created, what purpose do I serve? What did I mean to you in the short time we spent together.

Image source: Pinterest

#submission #competition #original work #debut #writing #writers on tumblr #writer #ya writer #YA

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lovefromlea · 5 years ago

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Here is a proposed mock-up of my debut novel ‘Titania’ Admittedly I am still in the progress of the first draft but this gives me more motivation to finish the project.

#debut #debut novel #original work #original idea #am writing #writing #writers on tumblr

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lovefromlea · 5 years ago

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Author's Note; This is another coursework assignment. 350 words based on a new idea or something from our writer's notebook. I have been considering writing a novel based on an idea I had and thought it would be the perfect time to try this idea out. The idea comes from Violet Evergarden meets the Steampunk world.

She was beautiful. A creation of his own handy work. A mechanical doll built from scrap components he had salvaged from a junkyard, just like everything else he had made. The toymaker barely had two pennies to rub together and pay for food, never mind buying new materials for his work. He had been working on his newest piece for several years now, mostly keeping it as a side project for when the ideal parts became available.

Happy with his progress he stood up from his rickety wooden desk, chipped and scuffed in many places. He had spent many years cooped up inside his hovel of a workshop, working tirelessly every day since he was a young boy, first assisting his father with his work until he took up the mantle himself. The walls were plastered with odd sketches of old projects and musings, each drawn with charcoal or inks and colored with age with some corners ripped. While the craftsman was only in his mid-twenties, his brown hair was streaked with grey from stress complementing his tired, almost wrinkled hazel eyes. He smoothed down his oil-covered apron, the edges frayed, cleaning his greasy hands on the fabric. He picked up a pair of brass-framed glasses and begun to inspect his work.

She was five-foot-tall in height, one of the largest of his creations. Her skin was porcelain-white with rosy cheeks. Honey-brown curls framed her face and cascaded down her back. The toymaker had dressed her in an off-colored dress, that had once belonged to his now-departed sister. It suited her well. He turned the large copper cog, that rested on her back, a few times, allowing the doll to start up. She fluttered her eyelids twice before revealing her sapphire-dyed eyes. She was perfect, almost human. She took her first breath, her glossy pink lips departing from one another.

The toymaker had created his perfect companion. Crystal tears streaked through the grease on his cheek, no longer would he be alone. He couldn't help but wrap his arms around the doll and let out his pain.

Image Source: AlexandraVBach

#debut #assignment #writing #writer #writers on tumblr #am writing

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lovefromlea · 5 years ago

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Author's Note; This is another coursework assignment. 500 words based on a word from a song on the radio. The song is Bring me the horizon - Sugar honey iced & tea. I chose to use a line from the song instead. 'Block out the sadness'

Block out the sadness, she told herself, pulling on a warm crimson jumper over her auburn hair. As her head popped out from the neck hole, she was soon brought back to staring at her own negative reflection, in a dusty mirror with cold emerald-dyed eyes. What did others see when they looked at her, she wondered. There she was, Artemis Lock, a woman in her mid-twenties, barely succeeding at love, life and everything in between. She frowned at her presence in the mirror, at least the fuzzy woolen garment had concealed her extra puppy fat, making her feel a little less insecure. Artie huffed at her reflection, already sick of looking at herself, walked over to her dressing table. She picked up a black velvet scrunchie, smoothing the fabric with her pale fingers, her nails stubbed from her horrible biting habit. I really ought to stop that, she thought to herself, how nice it would be to let them grow for once. She tied her shoulder-length locks with the scrunchie, walking out of her lavender-painted bedroom. Something she had spent a weekend decorating hoping it would calm her mental health, as recommended by her support worker.

Artie quickly marched down the stairs, the carpet soft beneath her bare feet. As she got to the bottom step, she took a quick deep breath before entering the kitchen and flicked the kettle on and retrieving her favorite mint-colored mug from the draining board. She was busy filling the cup with a good helping of sugar then threw in the teabag from the caddy. A grand grey tabby cat meowed up at her. Artie smiled, bending down to scoop up the only happiness in her life – her fur baby Pan. She cradled him like a baby, much to his disgust, but he had no choice but to accept the love. He let out a soft purr allowing his owner to scratch under his chin.

She had bought him as a kitten three years ago on a rainy autumn evening. The same day she had lost her previous job. Artie had worked in a call center, a regular nine to five office job that was until she felt her health worsening. She had made the decision to leave the job, taking the time to focus on getting better. That day, while feeling like she had hit rock bottom, she noticed an advertisement in the local shop whilst purchasing a large bar of dairy milk. Artie visited the breeder not an hour later, and upon seeing the litter couldn't resist the little guy. After that day, she and Pan became inseparable.

Artemis had decided on the name Pan, after the Greek God, like the origin of her name. It seemed like a fitting tribute. He was her perfect companion. Whether it meant curled up on her lap, while she sipped on cheap wine and watched terrible soap operas, eating their meals together or even sleeping in the same bed. Wherever Artemis was, Pan was sure to follow. Image Source: Pinterest

#assignment #writer #am writing #writing #writers on tumblr #coursework #short

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