Mariella's Toy Store

Chapter1/Short story, you decide

It was 11:46 pm and in a misty clearing,  west of a trodden path leading to the top of the hill,  stood a tall willow tree. The dark, textured bark of the willow tree was rough an the  branches, gently stroked the glistening river.  A small hole, the size of a rabbit, took home by the roots of the tree, shadowed by the absence of the sun, yet illuminated by the luxurious glow of the full moon.

 Baby pink blossoms, drifted from a nearby cherry tree, floating effortlessly on the surface of the deep, peculiar river, now and then, being rescued by the leaves of the grand willow and protected from the current by its finger- like branches. A gentle breeze fashioned a quiet rustling sound amongst the leaves and the occasional howl of an inquisitive dog from the town below could be heard by those who took the time to listen. The air was crisp and fresh and the luscious grass was painted with dew. The sweet scent of lavender could be tasted in the air, and the moonlit flower cast blurry shadows on the untamed bank of the river.

Below, the sleeping town polluted the sky, fading the stars with a rusty glow from the flickering street lamps. A siren pierced the night and the hollow sound of youths roaring echoed through the dying valley. The streets were paved with cracked concrete and you could play dot to dot with the dirty, sticky chewing gum, flattened by preceding footsteps. Shards of glass and litter lined the streets, almost every shop window was boarded up and the remaining visible bricks were plastered with tacky graffiti.  All except one; A small toy shop in a street to the North of the Valley. The shop stood proudly next to a tattered, closed down shoe store. The flawlessly painted sign said “Marriella’s Toys” and each letter was carefully inked in an italic curved font in a colour which would outshine the reddest  rose  with a stunning gold edge that put the crown jewels to shame. The sign hung from the shop front, above the mahogany door with tainted glass panels. The large, gleaming shop window displayed a magical collection of carefully crafted rocking horses, fabulous train sets, dainty dolls with perfect hair and fragile hand-sewn dresses, cars with such exquisite detail you could see the leather interior and the tiny steering wheels, music boxes with beautiful ballerinas, creatively sculpted farm animals and many other wondrous toys that you’d expect to find in any respectable toy store.

A loud crashing within the shop disturbed the peace and suddenly the mahogany door swung open fiercely and a figurine of a ballerina fell off the top shelf, smashed to the floor and a dainty arm broke off and rolled under a tall cabinet. Out of the door, stumbled a girl, aged 16 years, 6 months and 28 days old. Her dark hair hung freely around her face, chocolate curls fell all the way down her back, framing her petite waist. She held her face in her hands, wailing and weeping, tears streaming down her pale cheeks and rolling off her chin.  She found her balance, picked up the skirt of her cotton yellow dress and began to escape. She raced past the shop window, once, glancing back hesitantly but locked her doubts away and continued to run. The broken glass on the pavements threatened to shred her delicate feet but the girl didn’t even seem to notice. The wind blew from behind, sending her russet locks into her face and eyes, blocking her view but still, she knew the dark streets like the back of her hand, every crack and hole in the pavement, every kerb, and every lamppost. She dodged each obstacle with perfect timing and precision until she came to the edge of the town and there, waiting for her, was a small path leading up the side of the mountain. She rested for a moment to catch her breath and then started the journey up the path.

After a few minutes, she reached the clearing she had been searching for. She walked wearily over to the willow tree and lowered herself down, leaning with her back against the rough bark. She smoothed down her dress and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. She slipped a hand into the pocket of her dress and pulled something out and held it tightly against her heart.  She slowly opened her hand and brought it down to her lap, staring sorrowfully at the possession resting in her palm. It was a tiny golden key no bigger than the diameter of a two pence piece. The girl put the key gently back into her pocket and crawled over to the river. She dipped her feet in and swished them about, shivering against the icy water. Moonlight reflected off the water and sent shimmering ripples around her toes. A single crystalline tear rolled down her face and fell into the river, lost in the water..

 A strange sound echoed throughout the clearing, a crescendo of angry voices in the valley below. The girl pulled her legs out of the water quickly and ran to the tree. Elsewhere, the little toyshop that had once been her home, sent billows of smoke into the night sky as it sat aflame in the crowded street. The girl reached into the small hole in the willow and pulled out a miniature toy chest. The voices sounded like they were getting closer, they were making their way up the path. She pulled the key out of her pocket, more carelessly than the previous time and put it into the golden lock of the chest, twisting it quickly but gracefully. Light from torches now shone past the path and into the cluster of flowers, trees and bushes, searchingly. She opened the chest and took out a letter. Hearing the voices turn the corner, she held her breath and sank into the shadows of the tree, closing her eyes. An angry mob of youths and villagers turned the corner, armed with knives, bats and other vicious looking weapons. Equipped with torches, each predator searched the area, chaos ascended in the peaceful clearing. They stomped on the flowers and spat in the river until one boy in a hooded jacket called to the others. “I got the little witch now” he grinned coldly. They rest came and crowded around the willow. They pointed their torches to her eyes. She lay still, a fragile, desperate statue. Her wooden arms lifelessly at her sides and her head lolled forward. There were strings attached to her fingers and feet. Her eyes were open; staring blankly ahead and on each cheek was a painted rosy circle.  The crowd cheered in unison at their find. They had hunted the last creature that cursed their valley. She would be the last to haunt their perfect town. A tall, large man with an aged brow and crooked smile pushed through the crowd and kneeled by the side of the wooden girl. He cackled  at the rest as he took a small matchbox out his trouser pocket. The crowd held their weapons up instinctively. He took a match out and struck it against the rough side of the box. It set alight instantly. The amber flame grew tall in the wind. The man stared, bloodthirsty at the match as it threatened his rough finger tips and for a moment, he swore he saw the girl blink and look at him, a sly, evil glance that sent a rush of rage through his body. This made him madder. He held the match to her eyes. No reaction. The crowd jeered impatiently. And he let go, they watched it fall into her long locks of hair. It spread intelligently to her face, her delicate features began to deform and melt into a beautiful, painful collage of colour and fire. Her eyes were no unrecognisable. The beast spread down her body and her pretty dress turned to ash. She continued to burn in the night and the crowd basked in the heat. Had they looked closely, hesitated for a moment, they would have seen the letter folded in her wooden hands. They would have read her story. The reason for existence. Her creation. They would have read the words that would have saved their town. For she was not the villain, the monster, there was worse to come. Much worse. An evil that would doom their town for eternity. She was the messenger, created to protect them. She was their last hope was burning brightly, right before their bloodthirsty eyes. 

Reviews

[Tainted Devotion]

I really loved this short story, although I too don't think it would really end here. You have such a natural talent for this, so please keep it up. You're a very descriptive writer. I can picture every single detail and play out what's going on in my head. Very nicely done. Keep it up.

[Sujash I. Purna]

your ending doesn't say it's a short story. you definitely have something in your mind you will later add. Another Pinocchio-Witch story it could have been. But now I see it's something different.

A simple "wow" can never do here! I can't say how much I loved the shrewdness in your writing. Every sentence is outlined in relation to the atmosphere you're speaking of. I learned a big thing from you. Never get exasperated with the tiny details in a writing. My patience paid off! Indeed a charming read it was! Keep it up!