Program 4:Mon(u)th tHat taLks to yoU.

Garish lips, garish mouth

“If only I could see how this tender rose blooms

even in the frigid snow

Fighting for dear life

in this desolate place

oh! how lonely must you be!

Here is the month that talks to you…

The voice singing away was Her voice, the one Acelacen didn’t talk about, now that she wasn’t around anymore, but the face was so familiar after all the years of loneliness and pain he had to endure, just after they were together for five whole months… The long brown hair slightly curled swaying in the wind, the petite face and frame, the childlike eyes and the small mouth releasing a big voice. The voice he always woke up to in the morning. The whiteness of the pristine snowscape was nothing compared to Her, his singing angel standing in the pale snow, her scarf dancing with the wind.

“Amy…?” she was busy making something with the snow, scraping some of the snow around her into her gloved hands and packing it into blocky shapes, fixing them around her in a square formation and repeating every step but the last.

“Hmm?” She was making the rough foundations of a castle as Acelacen stepped forward to offer a helping hand.

“My name is not Amy. I do not have a name yet.” The figure described as not being Amy finished sculpting a rather magnificent castle made of snow, looking like highly polished glass growing from the semi-firm slush, like seeds. The stranger turned around to face him, hair moving like smooth, slender tendrils. The face, the hair, the eyes and ways of movement were definitely not recognized as the someone Oswald Acelacen knew. He stopped moving at once at seeing this person, heart thudding was a small inkling of fear as he gazed upon the humanoid creature with the long hair, sharp eyes and full lips, looking not feminine nor masculine. The thing before him offered a hand.

“Huh, what?” Acelacen licked his dry lips and felt drool on the edge of his chin, sliding to the table, seeing the partially facial mechanical dingbat straight from a horror movie without any pronouncements of it’s supposed cranial shape. Acelacen furrowed a brow at the functioning kookyness of the thing.

“You fell asleep and created the rest of me in your sleep whilst mumbling, Amy, I love you and not to mention the continuation of a process calling drooling, Doctor.” the neutral gadget stated whilst smiling as best as it can with lips made out of garish red silicone, reminding him horribly of half-made or worse yet, destroyed toys and horror movies involving them. The complexity sitting on the worktable where he sat behind gazed at him with a strange patience. The Doctor himself felt sleepy still, but as right as rain and he yawned and stretched, as is his normality.

“Well, I remembered a dream…”

“What is a dream?” The Doctor didn’t eat his lunch either, knowing it would taste funny, especially in situations like this. He attempted to open the packaging for the time being and thought of a way to answer the question directed at him. How should I answer? By what science dictates or by feeling and experience to this thing? Hmm… I still can’t stop thinking about her, not even now thanks to that semi-rotten dream.

 

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