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     Who exactly is that girl with the black hair?  Her unseeing eye stares at me as I try to convince myself that she cannot see me. Of course she can't see me. I should know, I created her. Her eerily familiar  dress is tattered from wear, but it somehow retains a pure white color. Her face is cracked like glass. Beneath what remains of her pale blue visage are the rotors of a machine, orbiting around some sort of golden orb. She misses half of her arm, and most of her back. I take a quick glance at her legs. Her robotic skeleton is showing from the cracks there as well. That one blind eye stares at me, unrelenting. I look away. The grotesque, mangled hand of hers is reaching toward mine. I flinch. I wonder who summoned her here. The fingers are bent at awkward angles. Some sort of awful membrane droops off of her robotic fingers like a spider web.
     Why does she act like she knows me? What remains of her mouth is moving, like she is trying to tell me something important. That strange, red web has taken over the corner of her mouth too. I know that it will shock me if I touch her metallic skeleton. I have no choice. I reach to grab her hand, and her skin is so cold that it burns me. I jump at the sharp pain that I feel in my palm. She dissolves on contact, and the pieces that were once her body flow into me. The only evidence that she was ever there is the burn mark on my hand. Who exactly is that girl with the black hair?