Manna walked slowly on the pavement with the stroller creaking in front of her and her eyes wandering around the living world that moved faster than her. A guy to her left was trying to bargain for a pair of socks with an old shop keeper, the woman next to him obviously disturbed by the conversation and her only pleasure seemed to be her cell phone which she kept close to her, smartly hiding the popped up conversation of her secret lover. That weird smile was giving away the aura of a cheating wife or girlfriend but the mother ignored it. She turned her head to the right and saw all the cars passing her by; fast vehicles blocking the view of the park, leaving you with a slight glimpse of a dog which was licking a ball or kids running on the grass, bees feasting on the jars of jam on top of tiny picnic blankets, parents yelling and teenagers chirping on their tablets.

She made a turn around the corner towards an alley with a dead end and a wooden fence separating the abandoned house behind it from the rest of the world. Her eyes averted to her son. Softly sleeping the little infant cuddled on a big doll, which the mother hated so much. The child was fondly squeezing it and never letting go. At the dead end of the alley ahead of her the mother gazed at the fence for what seemed like an eternity and scratched hardly on the handle of the stroller digging her nails in the plastic. No hesitation, no going back, no second thoughts Manna placed her palm on the infant’s cheek and smiled, softly unclogging its tiny little hands from the toy and pulling him up on her chest, tying him around the carrier made of plastic and cotton. The doll was left alone, crookedly placed under a blanket, showing its big smile to the mother who pouted in anger. She gave a hard push to the stroller towards the wall. Taking a big breath the woman walked slowly towards it and smiled evilly, as if she had just came up with the most sadistic plan of all times. She looked down at her child. “It will all be over soon my angel.” Soon after she kissed his forehead and her gaze returned to the wooden wall in front of her.

She put both her hand inside the stroller picking up the heavy doll and hardly crashing it against the wall, examining it for a bit. It looked like a small baby with its stitched arms and legs hanging lowly and its head to the side with that awful smile always carved on its cotton head, hair curled and black like burnt noodles on a counter trying to escape beyond it’s button eyes. She couldn’t understand what her child saw in that thing that made him so attached to it. Nothing mattered anymore, all ended there and then. Manna searched her pockets and underneath the pile of used tissues she unearthed some nails. She placed them on the doll’s arms sloppily. Strangling with the child inside the carrier on her chest she pulled a metal hammer from her purse and started pinning the toy on the wood with hate. She hadn’t felt such pleasure for a long time and seeing the doll’s insides spilling out and falling on the ground was somewhat of a comfort to her tired brain. The loud cries of her child weren’t enough to stop her actions and after a while she silenced them with the humming of a lullaby which came directly from her throat, her lips partially split, another nail on the wall. “Sleep my angel for all will end soon.” Another nail for her pleasure. “My voice will ease your heavy heart and bring you glee and calm” Another nail on the wall. The child fell in a slumber so beautiful it returned the noise of the street to the mother’s ears.

It took a while for her to realize she was out of materials and just admired the sight in front of her. A masterpiece she named it and pulled back for a better view. One stitched arm was on the ground whilst the other was perfectly pinned on the wall. The embroided smile was crooked now and fit perfect the empty sockets which once had buttons for eyes. She followed the line of cotton to the ground and giggled.
“There! A beautiful painting.” her smile vanished after seconds and the woman returned to the stroller. She placed her child inside and tucked him in before gripping the handle tightly and leaving the alley, returning to the fast moving world around her, still humming her lullaby. Her dirty scratched hands were shaking but her heart was beating slow and calm. Upon returning to the house the woman ditched the stroller at the garden and took the infant inside. When she entered a male’s voice echoed on the hall.

“Did you have fun?”
“Of course my love.” she exclaimed while caressing the baby’s head. “We both did.” she whispered with a soft giggle and started taking her shoes off. She kicked the pair to the side and removed her socks, her gaze never leaving her child. Walking slowly towards the next room her bare feet stepped on cotton pieces which left a trail behind her. She sat on the rocking chair in front of the turned on television and started singing softly, rocking back and forth, her song penetrating the dark noise of the room, but her eyes always fixated on her angel. A man approached her in glee and kissed the top of her head with a hand on her back. “Well done my angel.” he murmured in her ear. “Thank you, father!” she smiled but their conversation was interrupted.

“Honey?” Manna’s husband’s smile was temporary when he looked at his family. The towel in his hands fell on the floor and he rushed to his wife’s side.

“Are you hurt?” He seemed somehow terrified but the woman on the chair and the man next to her wondered why. The husband examined her hands and pulled the chair to a stop so that he could take a better look. He covered his mouth with his palm and stood up.

“What is this? Where is Frank?” His eyes were scanning her and then his father. “Where is my son? Dad what happened?”
Manna pulled back and shoved him to the side angrily. “You are going to wake him up.” she squeezed the baby closer to her and ran her hand softly through the dark noodle hair strands, caressed the stitched shoulder hands and legs of the doll that laid silent in her arms, embroided smile peacefully still. The man stood up scared and trailed with his eyes the blood that started from the doorstep, passed through her bag and dirtied the living room’s carpet, ending on the rocking chair that his wife was humming a lullaby to a blooded doll with buttons for eyes and cotton filling.