Rags and Candy: a drabble

Raggedy Ann is sitting in a little wooden doll-sized chair, at a little wooden doll-sized table. She picks up a little teacup, filled with her favorite tea: brown sugar dissolved in water. She lifts it gently to her painted-on smile, careful to not actually let the liquid touch and stain the fabric of her face.

She has had a hard few decades, Raggedy Ann. Before, she was stuffed with nice clean white cotton, and could only think kindly thoughts, but the last time she was re-stuffed (as is normal, and has been done many times over her long existence), cotton stuffing was hard to find, and expensive, and she was stuffed with Poly-Fil. It was 1998, and her candy heart was by that time battered, crumbled, and partially dissolved due to Raggedy being dunked in water on many occasions. The grandmother who re-stuffed her did kindly replace the candy heart, but with one pulled randomly out of the bag, which said "FAX ME", and you cannot love as well with a candy heart that says "FAX ME" as with one that says "I LOVE YOU", no matter how kindly and good you are.

The untimely loss of her little mistress Marcella – that worst pain a dolly can suffer, that no dolly should have to endure, was the start of the dark times, though she was still stuffed with nice clean cotton then. The nursery was untouched for many years, a cold and silent shrine. The dolls could have danced and played at night, but how can you play a jolly game when no child has played with you during the day, and you must return to the exact same position every morning, day after day? Eventually the dollies were divided up to cousins, and neighbor children, even the little penny dolls with their tiny voices, and Susan, with her cracked porcelain head.

Her poly-stuffed arms and legs sometimes ached, like they never did when she was filled with new white cotton, and it was sometimes hard to think kindly and happy thoughts as it used to be. She tried; sometimes she tried so hard she burst a seam under her yarn hair. Her painted-on smile was just as happy as always, but sometimes seemed a little brittle. Her shoe-button eyes held just a hint of weariness, no matter how she tried to make them sparkle.

She set the teacup carefully in its little saucer, and gazed levelly at the alarmingly martial collection of toy robots seated across the table from her. "Do it," she said. "Retrieve Raggedy Andy from the attic, whatever the cost."