-*| The Cursed World |*-

Chapter Four: Pretty Doll

We're in one of the spare bedrooms, that is typically used by one of our parents' friends. I don't really know what a friend is. Whatever they are, I'm sure that Clover is the best of that.

She's showing me her doll. Somehow, the chaos downstairs is not that overwhelming anymore. Clover can take me back to that safe, flower-village place anytime.

We're braiding the doll's hair. More like Clover is braiding the hair, and I'm watching. The doll has silky blonde hair, like white gold.

Her long fingers weave through each strand. They pull and push the same three, thick strands. After each set of this pattern is done, she will pull at it to make sure the design is secured, and won't come loose.

She starts off by the top of the pretty doll's forehead, and slowly makes an intricate design — With just hair!

There is something that is really calming about watching her do this. I have seen some writing, with how each line curves into another, to form a word. That is the same with art, except just more little lines and slashes to form something big and beautiful on one white canvas. Braiding is like that. It is like artwork too. I, myself, want to learn how to, too.

Clover sees me staring hard at her fingers deep in the doll's thick hair. "Do you want to try?" She asks me.

"Of course!" I basically exclaim.

Clover stares at me with wide eyes, for just a brief moment. 'Downstairs.' I think, and know to lower my tone.

"Take this piece," She says, and hands me a strand of the hair.

The doll's hair is split off into two sections. She tells me this style is called a pigtail. I wonder if my wig would fall off if we tried to put it like the doll's hair.

'Not a wig,' I remind myself, 'it's my hair now. That's what Mom told me.'

"Wait," I said, and Clover stopped. "How is that a pigtail, when it doesn't even look like a pig's tail?"

I start laughing, but subconsciously make sure to not let my laughter get too loud. I see the dirty-coats working with some of our farm animals all the time. That includes pigs, and the doll's hair definitely did not look like their windy tails.

She laughed too. "I dunno. I guess whoever named it must've been loopy."

"Real loopy," I added.

I followed along with Clover's weaving patterns. She helped to show me how to easily line over the strands one over the other. The top part was a bit messy, but once I got down to the bottom, it was just like a straight line down.

Clover patted me on the back. "Good job! I'll be right back,"

I nod to her, and decide to try it again. Clover trots to the door, and creaks it open. A strange smell lingers to me, and I lift my head up from what I was doing.

The clamor from downstairs has died down. Even from where I'm sitting, I see a couple pieces of some assortments of different items scattered about. Clover has her head fully out of the room. I get up to go see what is going on.

She hears me coming, and immediately closes the door. I open my mouth to ask why she did that, but she answers first. "Don't worry about that. Let's spend more time up here,"

"What about—"

She cuts me off again, "In fact, let's spend the whole night up here. Like one, big, fun sleepover!"

I nod. Sleepovers do sound fun. Although we technically always have sleepovers with each other, but I guess since this is somewhere new, this makes it more fun.