. . .

And this is how this story ends, for the eyes of the doll are open now.

It blinks away Hans’ jam.

It sees the world from horizon to horizon and where it sees it burns it. It sets it on fire. It ignites it. North to south, east to west, it is all gone.

It makes the world to fray, to smoke, to become nothing, for it was never really there.

In the light of those eyes —

Everything stops, then. Everything dies, then. Everything is lost, forgotten, and unmade.

You shouldn’t do that!

What a bad little wooden doll!

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