Short Stories by Me

The Wooden Soldier

This is what had happened with Blue.

The hate from the other soldiers had seeped into the core of Blue's chest, and that is when... well, you probably know.

But once a toy is given the ability to think for itself, that can never be taken away, even if the toy is no longer alive and cannot move. But only this toymaker's toys worked this way. And so Blue thought on and on as the terrible what-ifs crawled into his head, poisoning his thoughts, the one thing he had left for himself.

What if I'm stepped on when the children come?

What if I can never go to the shelf again?

What if the toymaker stepps on me?

What if the children come and destroy me on the floor?

What if...

What if...

What if...

The words danced in Blue's mind, teasing him with how possible they were. He might be thrown away, and then shredded to a pile of sawdust.

The old toymaker must have heard the clatter of Blue falling onto the floor, because he came around the aisle and walked down it, a candle held high above his head. He stumbled forward in the dark, but he didn't see blue. The What Ifs laughed as the toymaker accidentally kicked Blue under the shelf. He felt the soldier touch his foot and looked down, but saw nothing because he had been hidden under the shelf. Thinking he had imagined it all, the old man went back to bed.

Under the shelf, Blue felt like crying. He would become covered in dust, and the wood would warp in any water that happened to creep under the shelf...

"Hello?"

If Blue could move, he would have jumped. But he couldn't, so he lay still.

A doll came into his vision. She was almost completely made out of glass porcelain, except for her silk, blue dress and soft auburn hair. Her face was painted on with such detail and little gold bracelets and necklaces had been painted to her white porcelain skin. In one hand she clutched a dull, rusting metal nail, which did not fit in with the rest of her heavenly portrait. She walked with a slight limp, like a soldier with a wounded leg.

"Oh my!" She exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

Blue blinked to show her he was not a completely mindless dolt.

She gasped and clutched her chest, staggering just slightly before delicately dropping to his side. "Are you... have you dwindled? Blink twice for yes."

Blue blinked twice. If toys could cry, he would. But in a manly way, of course.

"You poor thing!" The doll sighed. "Here, I'll help you move."

She put down the dull nail and pushed Blue up, leaning on him like a crutch. Slowly, they made their way to a toy sofa, where the doll seemed to have been spending her time. She sat him down, then sat next to him.

"I'm Doll. That's my name, I mean," the doll said, smiling sweetly.

A silence.

"This is difficult," Doll sighed. "I think I can help you. Stay here. Well... I'll be back, I mean." She hopped over to the rusted nail and hobbled away. Hobbling did not look good for a princess like that.

After around an hour (but it could have been any amount of time, because toys don't have a very good time sense), Doll came back, hauling a bag the size of her behind. She zipped it open, glancing out from under the shelf every once in a while to make sure that the other toys were still sleeping. From what Blue observed, they were.