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Poppet [Origin Story]
Archived Post
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Vionnas father didnt start out running drugs.
First it was acting as a driver for the coyotes that brought human cargo up from Mexico. He did it for his family, he often said to Vionnas mother who gave her reluctant approval by changing the subject.
The going rate for bringing someone across the border was more then two thousand U.S. dollars. Vionnas aunt and uncle needed to come north for work and they had three children who would cost the same even if they were smaller. So Vionnas father kept working for the coyotes to make money to bring them all up, far away from the poverty of their tiny village.
Once they were all there Vionna was happy because she thought her father would get a normal job. Her mother said that when Vionna was old enough she would go to school. She would learn to say the Pledge of Allegiance and the names of all the states and to read and write. Vionna was scared she couldnt learn but she didnt tell her mother because she didnt want to disappoint her.
So Vionna braided her long black hair and put on the clothes her mother brought home from the thrift store. Vionna never had such fine shoes before; they were so nice she even wore them to bed the first day she got them.
And she had new toys too, a teddy bear and card games and a jump rope to go with her old toy, a doll given to her by her grandmother. Her grandmother told her that it had been hers when she was a girl, a porcelain doll with glass eyes brought all the way from Mexico City. Now it was Vionnas and she often played with it even though its hair wasnt so colorful anymore and there were tiny cracks in its face and her little clothes were threadbare. Vionna loved it all the same, maybe even more then her new toys.
At night Vionna would put her doll on the pillow next to her and be reminded of her grandmother. Her grandmother was a withered old woman with a sour face but she was kind when it mattered. People in her village were afraid of Vionnas grandmother; they said she was a bruja, a witch that cursed people who made her mad. Vionna didnt think it was true because people used to ask her grandmother for help when they were sick or it was time for their babies to come.
The day before they left the village Vionna had woke up in the middle of the night. By candlelight she had seen that her grandmother was praying over the doll before the familys small altar. First she made offerings and prayers to the Madonna, then each statue of the saints and the last one she brought out was the statue of Santa Muerte. Vionna did not like to look at Santa Muerte because she was a skeleton wearing a white gown with a wicked looking scythe in one hand. And this time her grandmother did not offer flowers or fruit or even tequila, this time she cut her wrinkled finger and made an offering of blood because that was what the Death Saint liked.
When her grandmother slipped her doll back into the bed Vionna pretended to be asleep, a little afraid but reassured that her grandmothers powers would watch over her on the long trip. To think of it now made Vionna sad because she didnt believe that she would see her grandmother again; she was too old and didnt want to leave the village.
Now they lived in a white house that wasnt much bigger then their old one but it had glass windows and running water and it was hot a lot of the time which was better then being cold all the time. But paying for it and getting his brother and the rest of the family there was hard and her father couldnt get a regular job so more and more he went out on runs to the south to make money. Vionnas mother frowned more too and she and Father argued quietly in their bedroom.
The day Vionnas father admitted he was doing more then bringing people over the border was the day the fights started getting louder. He sat down on the couch and didnt say anything for a long time. Finally he told them that one of the cartels was taking over all the coyote gangs. From now on the coyotes had to carry packets for the cartel because they knew all the secret ways across the border. Vionnas mother was so angry she started to cry. Vionna felt like crying too because she could see the fear in her fathers eyes and it make him look smaller somehow even though he was as tall as ever.
Vionna got even more toys and brand new pretty dresses and two more pairs of shoes. Her mother got new clothes too but she didnt seem happy. Vionnas father got a new car and dressed nicer. After a while he smiled more often though it seemed like a smug smile to Vionna, like her father had a secret he kept all for himself. When her parents argued Vionnas mother shouted she couldnt believe that her husband was a drug mule now and she was ashamed of him.
One day a few months later Vionna was sitting on the porch coloring when a car drove up the long dirt road to their house. Vionnas father saw them coming and his secret smile broke into a thousand pieces. He told Vionna to get inside so she did. Three men got out of the car. All of them looked scary to Vionna but the worst one was the man wearing red cowboy boots. His cold eyes looked over the house and Vionna shrank away from the window afraid he had seen her.
Vionnas father was trying to talk to them, saying something about giving back all the money. Thats when the man with the cowboy boots pulled a gun out of the cars open window and shot her father in the face. Vionnas mother screamed and ran outside.
Vionna turned to run away, the sound of another shot coming from outside. She was sure that her grandmothers magic was in the doll and somehow it would make things all right if she could just get to it. Behind her the front door opened.
The first shotgun blast knocked Vionna off her feet. While Vionna lay stunned the man walked over and shot her again. Then he began to search, his cowboy boots making loud sounds on the wood floors as he went from room to room. Finally he and the other men went away.
Vionna dragged herself to her room, crawling under her bed. There she pulled the lid off a cardboard box covered with stickers where she kept her grandmothers doll. She held it in her arms, feeling cold as the last of her blood soaked into the doll. Vionna died.
Years passed. The little white house stayed empty for a long time. No one wanted to live there after what happened. In the day time neighborhood children threw stones to break all the windows. The bravest of them dared each other to go inside at night. Huddling with flashlights amidst decaying debris and the smell of mildew they told tall tales about the people that had died there.
The stories were different depending on who did the telling, but there was one detail that always stayed the same: After the gunmen had gone and before the police came everything was quiet. Thats when something covered in the blood of a dead child crawled out from under that bed and went searching for those responsible.
Pleased with themselves the children left right after the story was over, running home in the dark pretending to not look over their shoulders, back to the safety of their own beds where they let out a sigh of relief. Because they cant help but think that even after the doll found the gunmen it still walks in the world, bringing justice to the wicked.
- done, for now
First it was acting as a driver for the coyotes that brought human cargo up from Mexico. He did it for his family, he often said to Vionnas mother who gave her reluctant approval by changing the subject.
The going rate for bringing someone across the border was more then two thousand U.S. dollars. Vionnas aunt and uncle needed to come north for work and they had three children who would cost the same even if they were smaller. So Vionnas father kept working for the coyotes to make money to bring them all up, far away from the poverty of their tiny village.
Once they were all there Vionna was happy because she thought her father would get a normal job. Her mother said that when Vionna was old enough she would go to school. She would learn to say the Pledge of Allegiance and the names of all the states and to read and write. Vionna was scared she couldnt learn but she didnt tell her mother because she didnt want to disappoint her.
So Vionna braided her long black hair and put on the clothes her mother brought home from the thrift store. Vionna never had such fine shoes before; they were so nice she even wore them to bed the first day she got them.
And she had new toys too, a teddy bear and card games and a jump rope to go with her old toy, a doll given to her by her grandmother. Her grandmother told her that it had been hers when she was a girl, a porcelain doll with glass eyes brought all the way from Mexico City. Now it was Vionnas and she often played with it even though its hair wasnt so colorful anymore and there were tiny cracks in its face and her little clothes were threadbare. Vionna loved it all the same, maybe even more then her new toys.
At night Vionna would put her doll on the pillow next to her and be reminded of her grandmother. Her grandmother was a withered old woman with a sour face but she was kind when it mattered. People in her village were afraid of Vionnas grandmother; they said she was a bruja, a witch that cursed people who made her mad. Vionna didnt think it was true because people used to ask her grandmother for help when they were sick or it was time for their babies to come.
The day before they left the village Vionna had woke up in the middle of the night. By candlelight she had seen that her grandmother was praying over the doll before the familys small altar. First she made offerings and prayers to the Madonna, then each statue of the saints and the last one she brought out was the statue of Santa Muerte. Vionna did not like to look at Santa Muerte because she was a skeleton wearing a white gown with a wicked looking scythe in one hand. And this time her grandmother did not offer flowers or fruit or even tequila, this time she cut her wrinkled finger and made an offering of blood because that was what the Death Saint liked.
When her grandmother slipped her doll back into the bed Vionna pretended to be asleep, a little afraid but reassured that her grandmothers powers would watch over her on the long trip. To think of it now made Vionna sad because she didnt believe that she would see her grandmother again; she was too old and didnt want to leave the village.
Now they lived in a white house that wasnt much bigger then their old one but it had glass windows and running water and it was hot a lot of the time which was better then being cold all the time. But paying for it and getting his brother and the rest of the family there was hard and her father couldnt get a regular job so more and more he went out on runs to the south to make money. Vionnas mother frowned more too and she and Father argued quietly in their bedroom.
The day Vionnas father admitted he was doing more then bringing people over the border was the day the fights started getting louder. He sat down on the couch and didnt say anything for a long time. Finally he told them that one of the cartels was taking over all the coyote gangs. From now on the coyotes had to carry packets for the cartel because they knew all the secret ways across the border. Vionnas mother was so angry she started to cry. Vionna felt like crying too because she could see the fear in her fathers eyes and it make him look smaller somehow even though he was as tall as ever.
Vionna got even more toys and brand new pretty dresses and two more pairs of shoes. Her mother got new clothes too but she didnt seem happy. Vionnas father got a new car and dressed nicer. After a while he smiled more often though it seemed like a smug smile to Vionna, like her father had a secret he kept all for himself. When her parents argued Vionnas mother shouted she couldnt believe that her husband was a drug mule now and she was ashamed of him.
One day a few months later Vionna was sitting on the porch coloring when a car drove up the long dirt road to their house. Vionnas father saw them coming and his secret smile broke into a thousand pieces. He told Vionna to get inside so she did. Three men got out of the car. All of them looked scary to Vionna but the worst one was the man wearing red cowboy boots. His cold eyes looked over the house and Vionna shrank away from the window afraid he had seen her.
Vionnas father was trying to talk to them, saying something about giving back all the money. Thats when the man with the cowboy boots pulled a gun out of the cars open window and shot her father in the face. Vionnas mother screamed and ran outside.
Vionna turned to run away, the sound of another shot coming from outside. She was sure that her grandmothers magic was in the doll and somehow it would make things all right if she could just get to it. Behind her the front door opened.
The first shotgun blast knocked Vionna off her feet. While Vionna lay stunned the man walked over and shot her again. Then he began to search, his cowboy boots making loud sounds on the wood floors as he went from room to room. Finally he and the other men went away.
Vionna dragged herself to her room, crawling under her bed. There she pulled the lid off a cardboard box covered with stickers where she kept her grandmothers doll. She held it in her arms, feeling cold as the last of her blood soaked into the doll. Vionna died.
Years passed. The little white house stayed empty for a long time. No one wanted to live there after what happened. In the day time neighborhood children threw stones to break all the windows. The bravest of them dared each other to go inside at night. Huddling with flashlights amidst decaying debris and the smell of mildew they told tall tales about the people that had died there.
The stories were different depending on who did the telling, but there was one detail that always stayed the same: After the gunmen had gone and before the police came everything was quiet. Thats when something covered in the blood of a dead child crawled out from under that bed and went searching for those responsible.
Pleased with themselves the children left right after the story was over, running home in the dark pretending to not look over their shoulders, back to the safety of their own beds where they let out a sigh of relief. Because they cant help but think that even after the doll found the gunmen it still walks in the world, bringing justice to the wicked.
- done, for now
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