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Eleventh Story
prose [ ]

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by [Dark Clauds ]

2008-04-23  |     | 

I haven't had the time to write about Her, about the wonderful toy I discovered…and our sad, sad story
Maybe because I was too fascinated by her...
But let me start with the beginning:
First it was the rumor that a new toy store was going to open soon in our village. All the children at school were talking about it...about the old gentleman that owned the shop, his long beard and dark kane and especially the hundreds of boxes that were carried into the old store by silent men, close to nightfall.
I was the only one who didn't go to wait in the cold for the grand opening of the toy store...
Toys don't play with toys and I was able to carve for myself all the trains and toys I wanted...
At school everyone was talking about the wonderful toys they found there but I hadn't the slightest curiosity of venturing in the Magical World of old mister Dreamweaver.
Maybe it was the way he looked at if I were an object…one that would look great in his window, with a price tag around my ankle.
I am not Just A Toy I wanted to scream to his evaluative face but I knew that he would never be able to see me as more than a very good proof of Gepetto's craftsmanship, an expensive toy for special customers...
I was terribly afraid of him and I had nightmares in which I was trapped in his window unable to move or scream a hostage in my own wooden body...
This is why I used to avoid looking into his window, afraid that I might see my reflection in the perfectly clean glass and I would just run screaming throughout the village.
One day I caught a glimpse at his window (my curiosity is sometimes greater than my fear of things....I am just a little boy, in fact..) and there SHE was.
Perfect, this is what I thought of her and all the fear was gone in one instant. I didn't know what to admire first...the curly hair black hair, the blue eyes lined with thick lashes, the green dress, her hands looking so humanlike, her tiny satin shoes...
She was all I could dream of, and all that separated us was an inch thick glass and the price tag...
Far more than I had saved in the last year...
I could never afford to have such a beautiful and fragile thing...a porcelain perfect doll...
I think I stood there, looking at her, memorizing the perfect lines of her face falling in love with her beauty until the night laid its velvety curtain over the town and I felt a dark presence behind me....
- Isn’t she just perfect? asked Mr Dreamweaver..
- Yes, she is very beautiful I answered saddened to death by the realization of the fact that we were never meant to be together...
- Well let us go in...You can see her from up close...
- I followed him into the warm store and headed for the window. She seemed even more beautiful and fragile looking and when Dreamweaver took her in his arms her dark green dress made the rustling sound of shattered leaves. The next second I was the one holding her and her hair smelt like lavender and her perfect porcelain cheek was so close to mine that I thought that I would just die, of happiness....
-You can have her, said the old man looking at me with blank eyes.
- I cannot pay for her...I whispered...
- I know. It is not all about the money you wooden creature...I saw the way you look at it, and I thought of you the moment I saw her...I bought her for you and I give her to you...
- But why, I thought you didn't even like me.
- I cannot stand the thought of your monstrous creature. It is my strong belief that things like you shouldn't exist and my gift is not one from the heart. It is a lesson the world has to teach you....and I volunteered for the task.

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