"You, my precious, are perfect," the old man rasped as he lugged his puppet by the hand.  He had placed a blindfold over its beady black eyes to keep their location a surprise for his special little girl.  He had made her, breathed life into her, and sweated over her to make her the exact image of the daughter that his wife, Jocelyn, had lost.  He had blamed her for losing his precious baby, cursed her for not having a strong enough body to support their little wonder, and hated her for extinguishing his flame of happiness, one that could only be lit again by a little girl's bubbly giggle.  He had gone mad with desire for the joy of teaching someone all that he had learned, and he yearned to protect the fragile heart of a little girl to call his own.  Spite bubbled up like an acid and coated his heart, glaring at all forms of happiness or joy through his cold, unfeeling eyes.  

"That's it, Lewis," his wife told him a year after the miscarriage, her long jacket with the fur-trimmed hood hugging her medium figure and suitcases in her hands.  "You can't treat me like your slave any longer!  If you want a baby so damn badly, go put your rotting sperm in a bank or sleep with some cute young tramp..." She let out a deep sigh. "Or just make your own or adopt one or whatever.  I don't care any more."  She opened the door behind her and, with tears in her eyes, she gave him a curt nod and swept away to the taxi that was waiting for her.  

"Is it over?" her new boyfriend, Dedric Collins, asked her as he drove off of the lot and her out of Lewis' life.

"Yes," she breathed, clicking on the radio with a satisfied purse of her lips.

Make one?  Lewis marched away from the open doorway and slumped onto the vomit-green couch with a huffy sigh.  Make one...he had done it once, and it died...he cursed her again as he reached onto the coffee table for his half empty bottle of Southern Comfort, wrapping his hairy fingers around the neck and pulling it up to his mouth.  He took a long gulp, leaving only a quarter left and a buzz rushing to his skull.  Maybe...

The wedding was beautiful between Dedric and Jocelyn, and their son, Andre, who was born five years later, glowed with a happiness that shone through his every move.  He became quite the celebrity when a talent agent was lounging on the beach the Summer of his tenth birthday and went chasing after a ball with his dimples beaming and his freckles gleaming in the sunlight.  Cards were exchanged, calls were placed, and Andre became the face of "Carlos and Catie take on the World" , a children's show about siblings who were separated at birth but found each other through their magical powers.  

Lewis, on the other hand, became far more insane than he had been before his wife had left him.  His life came closer and closer to its close with every day, and his wish had remained incomplete.  One night, he felt his heart splutter and his feet twitched.  Although not fully conscious, he lugged himself out of his bed and dragged himself over to the rotting wooden shed in the backyard.  Pieces of wood floated around the small room and into his hands, and his eyes were widened at what he had done.  He had made a daughter for himself.  Breasts protruded from her chest, a belly button was punctured in her torso, ten fingers and ten toes rested on the ends of her hands and feet, and her elbows and knees bent with ease.  Lewis smiled as he recognized his ears and nose carved into her head, and he then realized that she was completely nude.  He tore at his shirt and wrapped it around her, creating a little onesie for his newborn baby.  She looked up at him without seeing, and although he held her in his arms, she wasn't real.  He needed to feel her pulse, hear her breath.  Now, more than ever, Lewis wished to rob himself of his own life.  If she couldn't live, he wouldn't.  He knew exactly where he would throw himself off of the face of the earth: the downtown bridge.  It was so simple...

The edge of the bridge was drawing nearer and nearer...oh, he had nothing left to live for...if his little girl was okay, then death wouldn't be so bad...planting a kiss on her head, he placed her on the side of the bridge and smiled.  "Love you, gorgeous," he whispered, taking the blindfold off of her wide open eyes.  She watched him with a newborn's wide, curious stare, as he swung his arms and flung himself over the edge.  Her screaming and crying pierced the night air, but she was unheard until the next morning. 

The End

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