The woman adjusted the doll's dress. A lovely silk of sky blue. She patted the lace down and added her own fluff. She loved her dolls. She had hundreds. Thousands even. Yet the quantity didn't diminish the pure love she had for each and every one of them. She had given each one a name and a story. Each one had personality.

Miranda wore a pale yellow dress with golden hair resting in braids on her shoulder. She was from the south and enjoyed baking pies.

Betty had a lovely crimson dress with a rose in her brown hair to match. She was an orphan who found her calling to become a gardener.

Celine wore a dress of lime. Her copper ringlets fell down her back. She wore a cute summer hat. She was scared of the dark. Therefore, there was always a nightlight on in the room. The other dolls didn't mind. They were all one big family, after all.

The woman smiled at Lacy. Her name fit her perfectly with all the lace of her dress. Oh, how precious. The woman scooped her up into her arms, much like she held an actual toddler. She gave the doll a gentle hug and began to sing to her. She swayed and sang, all the while, ever so gently rocking Lacy in her arms.

"Mommy." A soft voice came from behind the woman. She stopped singing and turned to see who had called her.

Penelope.

"I don't feel so good, Mommy." Penelope's voice was soft and sad. She frowned and played with her fingers nervously.

"Oh, my sweet baby." Worried, the woman immediately sat Lacy down gently on the bed and scooped up Penelope. She knew Penelope couldn't be faking. It was written all over her poor little face. She was so pale. Her skin looked paper thin. Her eyes had lost their light. She seemed to be withering away.

"Shh," the woman cooed, "Mommy is here. I will make it all better." She gave Penelope a hug and a soft kiss on the cheek. "Mommy will fix it." And she intended to.

The woman was used to this. Her babies seemed to get sick so often. That's how it was with children, wasn't it? One would get sick, and then it spread like wildfire to the rest of the children. It couldn't be helped. They didn't know any better. They would run to Mommy when things got bad. And she was always ready to kiss and hug them all better.

"Let's get you to bed." The woman placed Penelope down on the mattress and took off her shoes. "You just need some sleep. Then you will be all better." She needed Penelope to sleep so she could begin her work. She didn't want her babies to be awake for their cleansing. It was a lengthy and messy process.

The woman ran her fingers through Penelope's black locks and softly sang a song to her. Every line or so, she would shush and hum some. Her angels always looked so peaceful while sleeping. While it filled her heart with such joy to see them at peace, it likewise hurt her to see her babies in any kind of pain.

Soon enough, Penelope was snoozing. The woman paused for a moment to take in the peace and serenity. She couldn't help it. Even when her babies were sick, they were still so precious in her eyes.

The woman caressed Penelope's face, just for a flap of skin to detach from her skull. The woman frowned. Penelope was worse off than she thought. Her poor little one. The wax could only do so much to preserve them. Sometimes it held. Sometimes, they seemed to disintegrate right in her hands.

How to fix Penelope?

She decided sewing may help. She molded the dry skin back over the skull. She frowned again as the skin cracked and flaked off. Unfortunately, the flesh had become too brittle. Her little Penelope was gone. At least she went peacefully in her sleep.

The woman picked her up again in her arms, cradling her. She hummed a tune while she mourned over this loss. She had to keep a brave face for the other babies. She couldn't let them see her cry. She was meant to protect them all. But the one thing she couldn't protect them from was time. She could only be their mother for so long before they ultimately decayed.

How her heart ached when she lowered Penelope into a box.

She would need to return her to her resting place.

She hated for her dolls to see this. Knowing that each of them would soon be follwing their sister to the grave. The very thought brought moisture to her eyes and a knife to her throat. She didn't dare speak, lest she burst out in tears. She must remain strong. To show everyone that this is only natural. That everything is okay. And yet, her heart was in pieces.

"Goodnight, Penelope." She closed the wooden lid over the box. A tiny coffin for a tiny body. How this pained her.

She bid her children a farewell before taking the box outside to her cart. No one in the village would look twice at the crazy doll woman with her cart. Not to mention, it was well past midnight. No one would even be out at this hour. Yet it was the perfect time to lay Penelope down. The cemetery already had a place for her. After all, that was where the woman had found her.

That was where she found all her children.

All her beautiful dolls.

She came to Penelope's grave and dug madly with her hands. The cold ground was soft and crumbled between her fingers as she dug. On hands and knees, she clawed until she hit the casket. It didn't take long, as these graves weren't very deep. This village only ever managed to get them down a couple of feet. Made them too easy to access for grave robbers. Imagine. Stealing from the dead. The woman scoffed at the thought.

She opened the casket and placed Penelope from within her box to back in her casket. The woman gave her doll one final kiss on the forehead. She knew that tonight would be the last night she had left to tuck Penelope in. Therefore, she did. With nothing by sorrow and love in her heart, the woman raked the dirt back into place. Not long at all, and Penelope was back in the ground.

The woman hugged herself while saying a small prayer. She could only hope her poor little baby was sleeping ever so peacefully. That she wouldn't get hungry or cold. That she wasn't afraid of the dark and being alone. Now,free of the staring eyes of her children, she wept. Her shoulders rocked heavily. Only two years. Penelope's time with her was so short. She wept for the life Penelope didn't get to have.

She could only preserve that life for so long. She felt like a failure to let her children down. They relied on her to keep them safe. Yet here she was, having to put them right back into the graves she had rescued them from.

She cried until she had no tears left within her. She must have been sitting there for hours. The sun would be up within a couple of hours. She needed to get back home to her children.

So many.

She had so many.

And yet.

Each time she had to bury one, her home felt hollow and cold. It was like a little piece of her was buried with each of them.

And over the years, she had buried so many pieces of herself.

The woman let out a long sigh. She needed to leave this piece behind, too.

As she turned to grab her box and cart, she noticed something. A freshly set grave.

The moonlight led her right to the grave. She had to sqint her eyes in the dark to make out the inscription. Tabitha Brooks. She was only fourteen months old when she passed. Just a tiny little thing. The woman felt her heart leap in her chest. Someone buried a baby out here!? All alone!?

She could hear the crying beneath the soil, muffled by the shallow grave.

"My baby!" The woman gasped. She dropped to her knees and fiercely began digging like an animal. "Hold on! Mommy's coming!" She whispered in a hiss as soil went flying back behind her.

She dug non-stop until she came to the tiny coffin. Her heart was tight as her muddy fingers pulled the casket open. The crying flooded into the foggy night like a siren.

"Baby!" The woman cradled the tiny bundle in a white dress up to her chest. Feeling the infant's nose on her exposed next, she gasped again. So cold. Her baby was freezing. She had to warm her. Luckily, she had her box. There was a blanket there. She pulled out the blanket to wrap the little one. After securing the bundle within the box, the woman made quick work of the mess she had made.

The baby cried as the woman pushed her cart. She feared the baby would give them away, waking up the village. She had to pause on occasion to soothe the baby. She just didn't like being in the box. The woman kept the box open. Just so the baby could see her and know she wasn't alone. Children needed their mothers.

She made it back to her home. The woman felt over the moon. She still had her sorrow from before, but she was so happy to have found this new baby. To think, if she hadn't lost Lacy when she did, she may have never found this new little one.

She scooped her baby up from her box and nuzzled her in her arms. Her newest daughter. It was messy, but she was so happy to have her. The woman was excited to introduce her to all of her sisters. She opened the door to reveal her home, littered with corpses in various states of decay.

She held her tight to her chest, "This is it." She cooed with a gentle hug, "Welcome home, Tabitha."