“Go ahead.” She waved her hand. “Let’s get you into it.”
I smiled as I hurriedly undressed then stepped into the gown she held out. The silk felt like a rush of cool water as it slid over my skin. When I got it to my waist, I unclipped my bra then fastened the choker-like collar around my neck. I moved to the full-length mirror as she fanned out the short waterfall train.
Bobbin chose the darkest green that ombred into the black waterfall spilling around my feet. The halter bodice was a transparent black lace with beaded appliqués covering the breasts that trailed down to a V right past the belly button. That ombered silk split all the way up the front along my right leg and stopped shy of revealing my dignity.
Bobbins tugged the material in the back to pin it together. It molded to my shape like a second skin. “How’d you get this scar?” she asked and rubbed a finger over it.
I always forgot about it because my bra strap covered it. “I can’t remember. Probably something stupid I did as a kid.” I turned to take in the backless dress and how the skirt hugged my hips and bottom before flowing to the floor. “Bobbins,” I breathed, pinching the material and turning side to side.
“If you say you don’t approve, I’ll ne’er make you another one.” She gave my hand a gentle slap with the ruler. “You’ll wrinkle it.”
“I approve,” I said with the biggest grin.
“I thought it the ugliest thing e’er requested, but I do say it looks far more beautiful on you.” She looked away from my reflection and up at me. “I think I’ll enjoy making garments for you.”
A pang of guilt struck. I didn’t want her to enjoy it too much. I planned to leave this place one way or another, preferably sooner than later.
I closed the gap to the mirror to inspect the brooch. Astaroth’s throne. My throat clenched under the weight of yet another shackle bounding me. Joy deflating, I allowed Bobbins to help me out of the gown and redressed.
“What’s the matter, dearie? I thought you liked it.”
“I do.” I forced a smile. “It’s beyond my wildest dreams.”
She nodded, not buying what I was selling. “I’ll finish it and send it over in time for the dinner bell.”
That dress will do the complete opposite of what I was hoping for. And after last night’s conversation with Astaroth, I felt things between us would move along faster than I’d like, especially wearing clothes like that.
As I slipped on my shoes, Bobbins said, “Happiness is an illusion, like all things in life.” She held up a needle, squinted, and pushed the thread through its eye. “The magic is in the making.”
I said goodbye to Bobbins, promising I’d be back soon for her to fit the next dress, and pondered her philosophical fae babble while I roamed the gritty streets. Magic is what tethered me to this mess for my foreseeable lifespan. Humans talked about magic never fully comprehending what it meant. I didn’t understand it, and I was standing in it, trapped without a way out because I lacked the “magic” to make it happen.
“Stupid place,” I muttered with frustration. “Stupid rules. Stupid fucking magic.” I kicked a fragment of broken brick, and it flew between the buildings. Trash fluttered out to the edge of the street farther in front of me when it landed. “Nasty ass little goblins.”
“I heard that!”
I spun around, but no one was on the street. They all hid in their dilapidated homes and watched me from their hiding spots. I could feel judgment oozing from their open windows and cracked shutters.
I continued on, reaching the debris I caused. How much trash could they possibly have when they produced very little? Apparently, a lot with the way it piled between the buildings. I scooted it back with my foot, mindful after the shit pot incident. The trash heap wobbled and spilled further out.
“Great.”
No one else cared for the mess. Why should I? Right as I was about to leave, something caught my eye. What resembled the leg of a toy poked out amidst the rubble. Cringing, I waded through the trash and plucked it from the pile. It was a tiny goblin statue a bit smaller than a Barbie. Face twisted in pain, its arms curled up to its chest and knees knocked. One of its hands was missing too.
“That’s dark and depressing.” Exactly how I felt. My life was a dumpster fire, and here I was standing in the middle of the landfill where I was dumped.
I quickly climbed out and leaned against the wall to inspect my find. I traced its realistic features with my fingertip and lost myself in its pain-filled gaze. Why would anyone immortalize this level of agony and then chuck it in the trash? I hugged it to my chest and looked up and down the deserted street. Not a single soul dared step foot outside while I was here. I was alone in a world full of people, just like home. I guessed some things never changed.
