Lucina's Gift

Lucina's Gift
Placed in top 10% of writer's weekly Winter 2010 contest
by: Shayna Gier

Lucina sat at the craft table in her own private craft room, putting the final touches on her handmade gifts. It was finally that wonderful time of year again, when the trees were bare and snow covered the ground as far as the eye could see. Christmas was just two weeks away, meaning that today she would once again get to visit the children in the pediatric oncology wing of the local hospital. She had been visiting those precious children since her little sister had died of Medulloblastoma, or brain cancer, at the age of five after fighting it for two long years. That was fifteen ears ago when Lucina was just ten, and Kalie was only five.

After spending so much time in the pediatric oncology wing, during Kalie's stay and beyond, Lucina got to know a lot of the little children, and couldn't stop dropping by, even after her sister was no longer there. She had attended no less than twenty funerals, all for children who had never reached the age of ten. However, once she got into high school though, frequent visits became harder, and so instead of visiting once or twice a week, she started to visit monthly. Once she entered college, it became a yearly visit.

In order to make up for what she thought of as abandoning the children, Lucina devoted the entire year to making little lifelike creatures that she would take up to the hospital for Christmas. When she began, they were not very good. The presents started out as little squares of fluffy fabric, which she gave eyes and ears and arms and legs. However, as the years went by, Lucina got better at sewing, and had given homemade teddy bears, mice, cats, and other animals. This year, she had been focusing on making small fabric dolls.

She now stared down at the last one. It was perfect. She had sewn in the doll's hair, which in this doll's case was short and stubby. She had even made little outfits for the dolls, like the overalls this one was wearing now. She straightened the shoulder strap carefully and looked at the finished product. His black, beady eyes stared back at her, but her gaze was fixed on his perfectly drawn red lips. She traced them with her finger, and then gently added him to the pile of finished dolls that she would soon be putting into a basket to take to the children. As she laid down the overall-covered doll, she noticed that one of the girl-dolls' bow had come undone and was now a ribbon lying free.

Lucina picked up the girl in the red dress, and tied the mischievous black ribbon around the doll's waist, pinching it into a bow and reaching for a needle, so as to secure it to the doll. She threaded the needle, and was about to poke the needle through the ribbon and into the doll, when she suddenly found the overall-clad doll male in her other hand.
"Don't do that!" The squeaky-high elvish-like voice screamed.
Lucina blinked, not believing what had just happened.

"Don't do it, don't do it ma'am! She does not like bows, she does _not_!"

"But she's a doll... _you_ are a doll." Lucina said in wonder.

"Is the misses saying that dolls don't have opinions? Miss, you took time creating us. You breathed life into us, so we do have a sense of personality. Every child knows this."

Lucina laughed. It was true that she had a certain personality in mind when she created each individual doll. She was always thinking about one of the kids that she knew to still be alive, and imagining the new ones who were still frightened, having just learned that they were sick.

"Well then... I suppose the bow should stay off. Why haven't you talked to me before, if I gave you life?"

"Because Ma'am, dolls do not normally talk through your tongue. We talk by being there. Nonverbally. But if you had put a bow on Claire, she would not have been happy, and therefore as much of a doll to the child that gets her if you had put a bow on her ma'am."

Lucina put down the needle and laughed again. "All right then. No bow. I suppose we are ready now?" She looked at the little guy that had jumped into her hand, but his red, perfectly drawn smile was back in place. He did not respond. She looked down at her watch and gathered the twenty dolls that she had spent the last year creating, arranging them neatly in the basket. She took extra time to make sure each one had their own room to stand. Claire was the last doll that she put in, making sure to smile at the doll, and straighten her dress before placing her into the basket. Satisfied, she took a moment to admire her handiwork. And as she puller a piece of colorful holiday cloth over the dolls, she swore that she saw little Claire toss her a wink, happy to be bowless.