Paula. has a minion!

Rosie the Floofe

Name Paula Luzy Prochazk
Nicknames Peewee
Age Six
Heritage Czech-German
Personality Shy, Quiet, Easily Fascinated, Demanding
Orientation Unknown
Occupation None (Carnival Brat)
Looks

why did we make it so hard, this life is so complicated...

Little Paula was born in Czechia to a young, freshly married couple. The little family was so happy when Paula was born, they've always longed for a child (preferably a daughter because you can make them wear pink clothes and buy them lots of dolls and other cute stuff, lol), for a long time it was unsure if Paula's mother would be able to give birth to a child at all. Still full of enthusiasm and extremely thankful for their luck, the young couple wanted the best possible life for their daughter and indulged Paula's every whim. When Paula called for a new glitter hair band, she got one. When she wanted these uber-cool expensive pink "Crocs", she got them, even if her mother had to work long hours to recoup.

The three of them lived a life full of joy, until one day when driving to Paula's favourite place in the world, the Oktoberfest in Munich, Germany, where she'd seen some sort of sheep plushie the previous year which she absolutely needed to have, they had an accident. Three-year-old Paula was the only one who survived. Not knowing what to do when her parents didn't answer her questions and her crying, she stepped out of the damaged car and left, heading toward the horizon.

Since then, there isn't a single day Paula is not seen on a fairground anywhere in Germany. An innocent and mousy looking child with plain brown hair carrying as many plushies and balloons, she all got them from casting lots, as she's able to. So mousy, that she doesn't attract any attention when queue-jumping in order to be the first to use the carousel's swan carriage. The fact that she doesn't say a single word doesn't help, either. At least the sellers at the candy shacks are happy to see their steady customer, but even they start to wonder where this little girl with the cotton-candy-clotty hair and the smudgy face, who seems to be rather poor, got all the money from she spends on cotton candy, roasted almonds and walnuts, not to mention the tons of plushies she carries in her arms...

~~
There's this little girl again. Behind the honey wagon. She seems to follow you on your way home from the party. She's hiding behind the wagon, so you can only see her small winter blushed face. A pig balloon flutters just above her head. She looks at you with her big blue eyes that seem to ask "Is anything wrong...?", but obviously prefers to stay where she is. The fairground is devoid of people, it's quarter past three in the morning on a rather cold and snowy Friday, the moon and even a couple of stars are shining brightly through a few tree's branches. You mentally rail against these irresponsible parents who seem to not care about their child, when the girl suddenly steps out of her hiding-place.
Surprised, you recognize that you know her, that you've already seen her before. It's this adorable sweetheart who bought lots, you stopped counting how many after the 30th, at your shack because she was obsessed with this big, fluffy pink sheep-thingy you could win. You smilingly watched her while she opened her lots. When she didn't win, you were even a bit disappointed as you unknowably empathized with the little girl. You haven't seen her again after she had walked away with her head hanging, halfheartedly noshing on a pink cotton candy, though. So there she stands in front of the honey wagon, just next to the carousel with all the snow-covered carousel horses and the swan carriage, in a dirty and ragged pinkish coat and pink crocs, her face and her clothes all over covered and gummed up with cotton candy. You identify some of the plushies in her arm and balloons in her hand as prizes she won at your shack days ago, some of them look like the girl's accidently dropped them, they're all muddy. All in all, a pathetic appearance.
When you take a step towards her, she shrinks back. You stop and remain silent. Having waited for what felt like hours, you see the girl slowly stepping towards you, raising a tiny, sticky hand, her eyes glancing sheepishly. "Lil' Sh-sheepy...?", she whispers timidly but in a stubborn, demanding undertone. You are somewhat fascinated by the girl's sudden talking, trance-like you find your way to your shack, fish your key out of your pocket and open the old, unsound door. From the corner of your eyes you see the girl, standing still, expectantly, waiting. You pull the pink sheep out of your shack, lock the door and walk towards the girl. You give her the toy. Her whole heart seems to smile when she enfolds the plushie she had desired so much in her tiny arms. Without a word or looking back, she wanders to the swan carriage. When she steps in and curls down, you notice the tons of empty cornets of sweets and roasted almonds on its ground. With a satisfied smile the little girl hugs her new plushie and closes her eyes.

...until we see it through the eyes of a child


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