Mikki Kendall

This is an experiment in digital barding. There’s a tip jar below if you like the story. I had switched to a Patreon only model, but a friend pointed out that sometimes people just want a single story. Or a sample before they commit to supporting a project. Different audiences and all of that.

First the bees left. Then the whales started to have meetings. We thought it was weird but we didn’t change anything. Animals started to simply disappear, but you know…the EPA was under attack and there was fascism to fight and well…things get busy.

No one really noticed the mannequins changing, or if they did they didn’t realize it. We made the mannequins. We made all the dolls. Well we thought we did. Dolls scare people sometimes, but mostly we just have them in our homes. Mannequins too. We should have noticed that plastic doesn’t ever break down. Should have asked what that means when you create an imitation of life. When you let your children pour all their hopes and fears into the ears of their dolls. Asked how many of those children grow up to tell mannequins their fears while they build and dress them.

We didn’t ask. And the animals left and we were fighting each other and then the mannequins and the dolls decided that skin was too fragile, that so much meat, even meat that was kind to them or loved them needed to be stopped before they destroyed the world.

We didn’t see it coming, I mean we live in a world full of them, inanimate, silent, unthinking…except they all think. That’s all they do. Think and watch. Until now. Until it was clear we couldn’t be trusted. Now we sit and watch and they walk around in our bodies. I miss my hands, miss being able to choose what I wear or where I go. They say we’ll live forever, that they gave up eternity to save us. Our children will be better for having new parents, there are no wars, no real poverty because they could care less about hoarding resources. But…I still miss my hands.

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Mikki Kendall

Written by

Proud descendant of Hex Throwing Goons. Writer. Total sweetheart. Daintiest stroll since Mae West. Giggles and Grenades! Always claps back.

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