Far from here lies a town, a peculiar town by most accounts, though some see differently..

You see, this town has a standard of beauty most folks simply cannot achieve.

To them, the most aesthetically pleasing thing in the world is nearly featureless skin. They are the sublime doll people; smooth, blemish-free, no variation in shade, no splotches or blotches, no sharp contours and harsh contrasts.

Journey there and you will find them. You’ll behold their strange beauty, their undeniable allure. They revel in gazing eyes and gaping mouths, even if the gawking at first comes from a place of disgust or bewilderment.

Stroke their perfectly clean and uniform skin and feel immaculation. They don’t mind. Smooth to the touch. Hard to the touch. These are men and women who are trained from a very early age to move their limbs as little as possible as to not wrinkle and crease their perfect dermis. They’re carted around their town, the paradigm of disuse, the absolute peak human condition. They’re the envy of anyone who scars their bodies with labor. They are art.

You agree?

Caretakers burdened with ugliness are tasked to tend to the doll people. They polish and condition the skin, make soft, flowing foods that slip so delicately betwixt those porcelain lips. The caretakers sacrifice their own skin, filling it with creases and wrinkles. In doing so, though their work is absolutely necessary to achieve the wondrous delicacy of the doll people, they are marked, cursed, and reviled as everything the sublime doll people are not.

As much admiration and worship the still and beautiful doll people receive, the caretakers take the hatred of the townsfolk. They are vile creatures, of that there is no doubt, but they are vile so that the doll people may scintillate.

The pure skin of the doll people, over time, hardens into a lacquered shell that no longer even permits movement of any kind. They become a beautiful tomb. A wondrous carapace housing delightfully gelatinous meat and innards.

Don’t you also think that’s beautiful?

A stunning achievement in human pulchritude?

To caress such smoothéd skin… those yet living, porcelain dolls. It tempts all eventually. It makes the imperfections found all over the skin of others blaringly hideous. How horrid!

With their angelic poses carefully manipulated as the skin undergoes that hallowed hardening, each doll person becomes a monument to purity, to the perfection of the human form.

This is what the outsiders fail to understand at first about the town’s odd ritual. The streets are not adorned with perfect statues. Their shops and halls are not lined with stunning mannequins. These are the lucky few of the town, the dedicated and beautiful. They are the sublime doll people. They are a sight like no other.

But you knew this already, didn’t you? You’re not interested in merely just gawking at the doll people, no.

Very well. You’re still young, your skin still supple. Your wrinkles can be smoothed.

I’ll make the arrangements.