Splintered Wooden Dolls

Gently her roughened hands dusted the wooden doll, pausing only momentarily for piercing splinters. Drawn from an abandoned well, a tear slid over loose, aged skin, curved around her nose, and fell from the edge of her lip. It landed on the dolls delicately crafted face, on the doll's faded eye and streamed over its cheek where it fell silently to the floor. Memories drummed in the temporal of her mind; echoed memories of a strange and tangled past. Collectively she reeled, spinning to her knees before the baying, old cluttered trunk. Numbly, Talis sensed the warm flow of blood from the slivered wounds on her left hand.