Ya'll, I was just bored, so I wrote this on the Teletubby Theory that said he child dies in a different way... Some chapters have been pre-written, this has been in my unshared folder for a while...
They awoke, one by one, in the hills where nothing grew and the sun never truly set. The first to rise was Tinky Winky, the tallest. His purple skin was cracked like old porcelain, and he clutched a torn red bag as though it held his last breath. He didn’t remember where he came from—but in the depths of that bag were echoes: a lullaby hummed to him in secret, a name whispered but never finished. He wandered aimlessly, his shadow stretching long behind him like a tether to a life lost. Next came Dipsy, dragging his feet across the damp earth. His green skin peeled and blistered with every movement. A bent, moldy top hat sat crooked on his head, buzzing with static. Sometimes he would scream, but no sound would come out—only the flickering memory of a television left on in an empty room. Laa-Laa came dancing—if you could call it that. Her limbs moved with the stiff rhythm of a broken marionette. She carried a ball, once bright and joyful, now deflated and stained red. She would toss it, laugh hollowly, then chase it over and over in the same circle, leaving faint drag marks in the dirt like a scratched record looping forever. The last was Po, small and silent, her eyes glowing dim red in the twilight. The air around her shimmered with heat, though no flame burned. She never spoke. But when she touched something, it turned to ash. They lived beneath the watchful gaze of the Sun Baby—no longer a giggling infant, but a pale, overgrown face stretched across the sky like flesh on canvas. It smiled always, but its eyes never blinked. Sometimes, its mouth would move, but no sound came. Only a high-pitched frequency that made their stomachs churn and their vision twitch. Every day, a periscope rose from the ground and ordered them to perform: play, laugh, eat tubby custard. Always smiling. Always watching. Behind their eyes, they remembered things—brief, flickering images: a hallway light, a scream, the smell of burnt plastic, a pair of arms reaching out too late. The Noo-Noo, once a comical vacuum cleaner, now slithered silently behind them like a mechanical centipede, erasing their footprints, cleaning up what remained of their fading humanity. Sometimes, it would suck up pieces of their memories when they weren’t paying attention. They grew quieter each time it passed. No one ever left. No one ever arrived. Just an endless loop of sterile play and distant sorrow. And though none of them remembered how they got there... They all knew they had once been children.
