A fragile boy of about six or seven stood, staring at the window. He brushed a wisp of chesnut hair away from his eyes to get a finer view of the display. It was an assortment of painted ivory figurines, including a minicule sailboat with a mast made of parchment, and an elderly man casting his fishing rod into a baby blue sea. The heavy oak doors opened with a creak. Dozens of shelves were crammed with hordes of trinkets. There were imported Russian matryoshka dolls of varying styles, and doleful faces; spinning tops, red Radio Flyer wagons, kaleidoscopes, and wooden yo-yo's. The boy saw an outdated nutcracker with a melancholy expression. It had bright red cheeks, and a snowy beard that extended to its chest. He plucked the toy off of its shelf and into his arms. At a closer look, the nutcracker looked quite lofty. Its cobalt soldier coat had a row of golden buttons parting down the middle, and its shoes were a dark olive color, and looked as though they were recently polished and scrubbed. He stuck his finger inside the crevice of the dolls mouth and clicked the knob on its back. Its jaw chomped firmly. He immediately withdrew his forefinger. The boy had been so caught up with his newfound prize the he failed to realize that he had sauntered out of the shop. A flock of people marched by, one of which bumping into him. He lost his grip on the nutcracker and it plunged to the ground. He reached down to pick it up when a foot came crashing down onto the doll. It had been critically mutilated. Its crown had been flattened, and its mouth was stuck in an ajar position. The boy started bawling. He cried fitfully like a babbling brook. Dashing away through an alley, he tripped over a mound of rubbish. Three days had passed since the incident, and the boy was still mourning his loss. It was the night before Christmas, and all of the children were out caroling. The boy was hidden away in his room, buried in a Dr.Seuss book. After finishing his short novel, he dozed off into a slumber. Early in the morning, he rose to the sound of laughter. Meandering down the stairs, he entered the kitchen, where the Christmas tree layed. His family gathered around the heavily ornamented tree. It wore a star on its top. The presents were huddled under its branches, and most were already taken. He went over and identified the ones that were his. After going through two presents that were quite unsatisfying, he looked upon the third. It was small, and had cadmium yellow wrapping. Tearing it open, he layed eyes on a familiar face. It was melancholy, with bright red cheeks. It had a row of golden buttons down the middle of its slightly tattered coat, and a long beard that stretched down to its chest. A wide simper spread across the boys face.
April 29, 2011