And since I'm bowling to get back on to some semblance of actual writing, an 
introspective piece I did a week or so back for my Chibi shorts. Key The 
Metal Idol is owned by someone that's not me. Enjoy.

Kenji M. (KMurasaki@Hotmail.com)

All fiction can be found at Kenji's Nexus:
http://www.geocities.com/nexuslink

Ayatsuri. That's the word for "puppet."

There were so many of them at my house. Inanimate dolls, no thinking
or moving skills to speak of.

Many people like to play with them, and grandpa would have no problem
with that.

They would never play with me, though.

I see it more clearly, now. Was I not a doll too? A special one, but a
doll nonetheless.

Grandpa always made sure I was well taken care of, always handled
gently.

But never held, nor hugged. He'd never do that.

Okaasan. Was it because of you? Or the people? Is that why he felt so
guilty? So sad?

But I was a puppet, made by him. For my own good.

But I am no longer.  I move on my own; I have my own will, my own
thoughts and dreams.

I dream of Sakura-chan, and grandpa.

I dream of mother. I miss them all dearly.

They were close to me, and the doll as well.

But dolls can't live, so dolls can't love. Nor can they save, or
sacrifice.

Ayatsuri...

I hate that word.

-Tokiko  Chibi


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