The children of the severed fingers- a ghouliebaby tale.

Sharp little white teeth gnawed away at his little pink fingertips, not sated until one was torn loose and discarded and even then stopping only to move onto the next digit.
The dolly cringed inwardly at this latest of dolly degradations. How he had wished to belong to a sweet little child who would play tea party and wheel him around in some sort of gaily-coloured stroller. He had even had dreams of being part of some much-cherished collection of dolls, his only contact with mortals being a quick caress to re-arrange him to look his best. But alas these were privileges not usually reserved for the plethora of massed produced dollies who grace the shelves of toy stores.
The child’s interest in his tasty friend soon waned and the dolly was tossed unceremoniously into a corner, bereft of his not only his blue fleecy playsuit, but also minus several fingers from his earlier mauling. It was a routine he knew well. But also he knew what happened eventually to dollies who had lost their lustre and turned raggedy and soiled and for now he welcomed any interest in him at all.
But of course children grow and all too soon the little plastic baby doll found himself thrust into a green garbage bag among the other forgotten play things, destined for the local thrift shop. There he was dumped into a crowded and overflowing toy box, full of strange, musty smelling objects. For a dolly eternity the box was rummaged through and he was passed over. Just when he thought he would never see the light of day again he was suddenly collected up, inspected and finally carted off with an array of ravaged dolly specimens.
The dolly couldn’t believe his eyes when he was finally drawn from the depths of the plastic shopping bag- he had finally found nirvana. He and the others were placed upon a shelf crowded with broken and battered dollies, naked and proud in their disarray.
When night fell there was much excited whispering within the plastic community. Fabulous tales were told of makeovers and new identities, opulent and outrageous new clothes and a strange and wonderful person they referred to as the “Dolly Master”.
Now and again a dolly would mysteriously disappear from the shelf, sometimes spied later mid-recreation and barely recognisable. The dollies all came to know that this was a wonderful thing and each anxiously awaited his or her turn.
Finally the great day came and the poor fingerless baby doll was drawn from the shelf. He was scrubbed and rubbed, painted, clad in strange new clothes, pierced and primped and when the dolly master finally deemed him ready he was granted a fine new ghoulie name. From that moment he was destined for an exciting new life, much more than he had ever dreamed of.

by Lady Nemesis.
http://www.users.bigpond.net.au/ghouliebabies