A shuppet's evolution.
Warnings: It a story about ghosts, what kind of warnings do you think?
"Give it here!"
"No it's mine!"
"But I'm older! I want it!"
The young children screamed and fought in the cozy living room. The boy grasped his little sister's curls and yanked. She shrieked, dropping the sock doll their nurse had made for her, before kicking him in the shin.
Nurse had gone home, and the parents were upstairs. Mother was reading, while Father answered letters. It was raining hard, and late in the afternoon, all noises were eaten up by the near constant rolls of thunder. No one was in the living room to hear the screams and scuffles as the rosy cheeked duo fought over the soft plush.
The two children dove for the stuffed doll, wanting to play with the velvet softness. They grasped it at the same time, and then the real fight began.
The silbings rolled over the floor. The girl on top, occassionally, her soft golden hair illuminated by the firelight, then the boy, his blue eyes gleaming in the light. Army men were scattered. The rocking horse was tipped over. The little imported growlithe puppy was sent running from the room.
Hate pervaded the air, as the rain lashed at the windows. The sweet cherubs had been changed into snarling monsters. They were bent on destrying one another, over the small rag doll, which watched the proceedings from between the pair of grappling hands.
Small, chubby fingers grasped and squeezed its frame. Stuffing was pushed and prodded into different areas. The head swelled like a balloon, stretching the cloth into a grotesque and demented form.
Finally the vengeful sprites were on their feet again, pulling the tortured doll between them. The weaker younger sister was losing the doll slowly but surely through her uncertain grasp. Finally she clenched down at the tip of the head, and pulled with all her might. The head stretched and then below the eyes it ripped.
The sound brought the children up short. They saw the gash, a mockery of a mouth, exposing the stuffing to the air. It was like seeing a man choking on his own blood.
The siblings cried. Not for the abused doll, but for the lack of amusement. Their wails echoed around the cozy room, cutting through by the booming thunder.
The disfigured doll was dropped. Its body lay lifeless, as the chamber maid came in to stoke the fire. She saw both the young master and mistress screaming, the rent doll between them.
Getting the story out of them she sent both to bed without supper. It was not in her power to spank the brats, that would have to wait for the nurse in the morning.
Picking up the doll she closed the gaping abyss by pinching it together with her fingers. She smoothed out the stuffing, creating a round head again. The cloth had been stretched so violently, nothing could bring it back to its original shape. The maid tweaked the abused fibers further, creating a floppy cap. She would give it to the children again in the morning, once she had repaired the damage.
Going down to the kitchen again, she retrieved some thread from the seamstress' bag, and began to sew the crude mouth shut. Her stiches were sloppy, but she was proud of her work. It looked almost sweet with its perpetual wide grin.
The house keeper came over to discover what she was doing, since it was clearly not her job. The chamber maid explained, showing the doll as evidence.
The housekeeper picked the doll up by one arm. It hung limply, smiling at her, as if in an attempt to win her over. She looked at the poorly stiched mouth, and then disconnected the thread from the bobbin. The yellow string hung down from the mouth like drool.
"No. Put it on the garbage," the house keeper decided. "'Tis an ugly thing, now that they has wrecked it. 'Twill teach them more respect for their toys, this time around, if they lose them when they quarrel."
The maid nodded silently, and went to put the poor doll outside in the storm, on the garbage pile. She would be able to pick it up when she went home. She had a newphew who would probably love the misshapen creature, and all she would have to do would be to dry it.
Outside on the refuse the doll was pounded by the rain. Cold water permeated it. The air surrounding it was filled with the jealous, vengeful feelings of the children, and the contempt of the housekeeper.
A hungry shuppet, lost in that neighborhood of wealth and ensuing happiness, floated closer to the garbage can. The eyes glowed as he drank in the emotions. Feeling warm and sleepy, with all of the hate residing inside him, the ghost pokemon slipped into the shell of the tortured, misused toy.
He felt at home inside the stuffing, warm and peaceful, with malicious thought directed at those who had done this to his new home.
Blugh. It was cold, and wet. He would leave. But he like this body too much. Ghostly energy radiated out from the doll as the shuppet bound himself into the stuffing. He flexed the carefully swen fingers, and reshapped them into claws. Much better. He grinned, and hopped out of the garbage can.
When the chambermaid went home at eleven she couldn't find the doll no matter how she searched. She concluded that some urchins must have taken it. A blow to her newphew, but at least now the cute thing had a needy home. She cheered up, feeling warm inside, and continued on her way.
When she came to the house next morning she foud the entire household in mourning. The children were missing, and couldn't be found. The servants privately agreed that the little monsters were playing a trick.