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Fish

Eyes

An Angel came to save me.

Lily Rose Fine

Tyra Kleen (Sweden, 1874-1951)

The Angel with the Flaming Sword, 1918

…Mm. Yeah, happens more often than you think, though usually that happens after.

Some witches, they make a show of making salt circles, setting the stage, performing whimsy for whimsy’s sake, but all you really need is to set your vessel down by a good river or field. See, like moths, they’re drawn to pinpricks of light most people can’t begin to see, tiny brains captivated by the ghosts of emotion. You’ll catch a handful of actual moths too, yes, perhaps even a grasshopper or cicada. If you’d like, sift those out before you place it in the skull cavity; you’ve all heard the dolls that can’t quite contain their discordant, confused buzz of awawa, yes?

It’s standard dollcraft from here on out: seal the seams with whatever suits you, spend at least six hours with it each day until its essence becomes more doll than husk, and make sure to feed it plenty of tea. Usually takes a week or two for the bugs to spread out, lighten its limbs with their wings, rewrite bobbing flight patterns into happy nods and adjust to a body template so different from its original. Takes even longer for it to work all its wings and newfound jawbones into speech, but then again, most dolls rarely need a voice.