Sarah arrived the next day with his glass eyes in hand. “Are you ready, darling?”
Dagonet nodded. “I’m ready…”
Sarah sat on him very provocatively—her porcelain thighs were gripping his hips as she faced him. “You’ll be so happy with the glass eyes I’ve chosen. They’re a beautiful shade of red.”
Dagonet, being young, was filled with a desire for her as she seemed to tease him by sitting on him. He breathed more harshly and struggled under her body. Being the extremely neurotic type, he had never been confident with women and sweated nervously.
Sarah giggled. “Once we get these eyes in, we can make love forever if you’d like.”
Dagonet nodded aggressively. “That is what I want; to trade a lifetime of misery for a lifetime of pleasure.”
Sarah looked at his eyes that were clouded over and nearly blinded from a previous incident. “I’m glad I got to you before you had to go through the rest of your trials.”
Dagonet looked back at her and said passionately, “you saved me for sure…”
Sarah then lifted the nail she had placed beside her and, before Dagonet could protest, stabbed it ruthlessly into both his eyes. His screams pierced the heavens and he struggled and tried to get the doll off of him but she would not budge. Warm blood ran down from his ruined eyes as he panted with fear and exertion.
“There there, my love. You knew it would be painful. Let me clean you up.” His faced stung with pain as she dabbed his blood up with a rag that felt otherworldly and then tossed it aside.
“Now, let’s get these into your head, shall we?” Sarah said, plunking the two glass eyes into his empty sockets and pushing them in until his body accepted them.
“I… I cannot see.” Dagonet said fearfully. “What is wrong with these eyes?”
“The best way to see clearly,” Sarah explained. “Is not to see at all.”
Dagonet was furious. He wriggled the chain attached to the bed and swung at the doll with his free arm—it contacted and a newly formed crack ran up the doll’s arm.
Sarah kissed him to calm him and make him forget all bitterness, duties, and attachments and think only of sweet and desirable things. “What happened to the sweet and funny clown I fell in love with? The one I wanted to spend eternity with? Tell me a joke, jester.”
Dagonet calmed down after a moment of sheer fury and smiled a little, remembering a time in his life when he was not to be a legend and was instead a comedian and a jester. “A king, a president, and an emperor all walk into a bar. What’s the one thing they have in common?”
“I don’t know. What do they?” Sarah asked with anticipation.
“Mutual abuse of the common folk!”
Sarah was set to giggling for as long as she needed to make Dagonet happy.
And he was happy—for a moment… Until he remembered the witch’s laugh. That lovely and real cackle.
But he must not think of her! She was attached to his destiny—to his legend.
“What are you thinking about?” Sarah asked as she kissed his forehead over and over again.
He said nothing for a moment as his thoughts were turned by the witch with the ugly wart on her green face, her ugly, large nose, and her voluptuous size. Her breasts sagged but were soft and a and a joy to lean his head against. Sarah was beautiful as all dolls were—more beautiful than the witch could ever hope to be—but her breasts were made of glass.
I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss those breasts… Dagonet thought to himself with a wistful smile.
Dagonet pushed Sarah off of him gently. “I want my eyes back…”
“There is no replacing them. They were useless anyway.” Sarah murmured with a hint of annoyance in her voice. “Are you thinking of your old life again? You wanted me to lock you up in here for a reason, remember?”
Dagonet was silent for a moment, and then he replied, “I know…”
Dagonet was incredibly angry at the doll for getting rid of what was left of his eyes—but he forgave her because she was keeping him safe. But, he needed a moment to mourn.
“Please leave, I need to be alone… We humans like to grieve silly things like our eyes.”
Sarah was silent for a moment before saying huffily, “fine.”
__
And Dagonet was left alone to think about his lost eyes. He sighed. “What use is a woman made of glass if I can’t delight in her unreal looks…”
Dagonet thought about the many things he would never see again and was dragged by the white arm of fear into an unfamiliar place where the only thing he could think about was the certainty of losing everything.
And Dagonet did what all nervous and neurotic people did—worried himself until he felt like he was withering away.
He heard the window slide open with a quick motion and a horrid smell wafted into the room—he recognized that disgusting odor! It had all but ruined his sense of smell two times before.
He heard something fluttering towards him in the darkness and could do nothing to stop its approach.
“I can’t get the stench out of my nose!” Dagonet struggled as the fluttering noise and the stench drew ever closer.
The stench was up his nose eternally with the fluttering creature grabbing Dagonet’s entire face with one of its clawed hands—until Dagonet reminded himself that he was safe from those events—so long as he let Sarah hold him in her arms.
The stench was gone from his nose for a moment, but he couldn’t wash away the old memories that came with it.
He could still remember the very first day the oracle had come to him and told him in his first lifetime, “you have a grand destiny ahead of you; a legend to fulfill. You must stitch up time. You must face an uncertain future with certainty or time will become unraveled and you will have to start all over.”
He was jester to the king at the time and, despite his shyness, made the whole court roar with laughter.
That was what he loved doing. Making people laugh. He had no patience and no confidence to become a legend!
But that first time the king asked him to entertain his court, Dagonet was so unsure and worried about failure that he ran away.
And that was when he met Brunhilde on his way out the castle—the king’s witch and healer—who encouraged him before he made it out of the castle.
She asked, “are you running? Running from something you love that makes you happy?”
Dagonet made a face. “I don’t wish to be laughed at… At least, I want them to laugh with me and not at me.”
“And so you’d rather them not laugh at all? How silly. You can’t always fear the future you know.” Brunhilde stated plainly.
And Dagonet knew she was right.
He headed back to the dining hall and put on the show of a lifetime. They laughed so hard they spilled their beverages and spat out food. He had never been happier in his life. And it was all thanks to the witch—the only woman he was confident with.
Dagonet had been with women before—not excessively, however. He had a funny nose, a slight frame and a boyish face, but he was not altogether bad-looking. He was often overlooked by women because he was simply unconfident when it came to anything but making people laugh and he was a sweaty mess around them. He kne they were judging him.
That fear of being judged—of not knowing exactly where his actions would lead cuffed him to constant anxiety.
But it was different with the ugly witch, Brunhilde. Maybe it was because she was ugly that he felt he could relax and feel like she was not judging him--or maybe it was because she just always knew exactly what to say. But regardless, he fell in love with her in every lifetime he lived.
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