Tales of Terror

The ToyMaker
{Year 1887}


She was numbered 212 out of a batch of 300, that the ToyMaker had kept in an old toy box to sit upon a dusty shelf above the counter. The doll had caught Broadbent's eyes and he had fallen in love with her, instantly {if it was at all possible to fall in love with a doll?}

His eyes opened wide as the old ToyMaker allowed him to hold her within his hands. He gasped at the intricate detail of the thing. She felt so real, every single part of her, even down to her eyes. Broadbent nodded toward the old Toymaker. 'How much Sir?'

'Ah well see, there's the problem. It took many days to...'

'...Yes, yes I'm sure it did. But I want her. I must have her. How much are you willing to sell her for? Indeed, she is beautiful.'

'Well, now that you put it like that you do seem impatient to have her. How much would you be prepared to pay me?' The Toymaker watched him very closely, his dark eyes never leaving the well-dressed customer who had popped into his curio shop.

The shop sold all manner of items, that had been discarded,or unused - but the ToyMaker had a special fondness for dolls. Indeed, the dolls that where brought to him, or the ones that he found, he would repair, cleaning them, even tailoring their clothes that he would place upon them.

When they where to his satisfaction, upon the top shelf they would go. You see, the top shelf was were the old ToyMaker kept his 'special items' his 'special toys' and dolls. No amount of money could be exchanged for them..No, it took a particular type of exchange to purchase those items.

The man continued to gaze lovingly at the doll, he was absolutely amazed at the craftsmanship that went into the piece. He turned her this way and that, taking in every single bit of her, feeling the fabric of her clothing, the texture of her dark hair, and her face, which seemed flush, was so real too. Finally, after much time had passed, Broadbent whispered, 'As much as it takes...yes', he nodded, 'as much as it takes.'

The old Toymaker shuffled round to the front of his counter. He was a tall man, a lot taller than Broadbent. He wore a pair of round spectacles at the end of his nose, and from over the rim of his spectacles he gazed at the customer with great interest. 'I can see that you desire her much. And you are prepared to pay the price for her?' The Toymaker pointed a long thin finger toward the man, who was dressed in a top hat and tails.

'I do, and I am prepared to pay the price, no matter what the price.' Slamming his fist down upon the counter, Broadbent spoke through gritted teeth, 'For you see, Sir, I always get what I want, in the end.'

'Even if that price be your soul?'

Broadbent was taken aback. 'My soul? What are you talking about...my soul?'

'Exactly what I say. You can have her. Indeed, it took many days to create her, many long hours by candlelight to form her - and, might I say, to tailor her clothing...all originally done by me. So, with all that in mind, and with much effort that I have put into her, I feel that the only price I could put on her head would be the price of....'

'...my soul?'

'Indeed', smiled the Toymaker. 'Your soul. So, do we have a bargain? Of course, if you feel that such an exchange is beyond your means, then she will stay with me upon my shelf, up there.' He pointed toward a top shelf that seemed full to the brim with all manner of dolls and mannequins, other items that had been repaired. They gazed down, forlornly at the two of them, from the confines of the dark shop.

Never had Broadbent experienced such a situation as this. Clearly the old Toymaker was mad, he had to be. It was a puzzle to Broadbent as to how on earth this man made any sort of profit. After all, if all he did was ask customers for their souls for his items, then surely he would not be open for very much longer.

'Do you attend church, Sir?'

'I'm not a believer,' replied Broadbent. 'My wife attends, but I do not.'

'Ah, then if you are not a believer, you will not mind giving your soul freely?'

'Well, I never really thought of it like that before. Furthermore, as much as I do not believe in God, I certainly do not believe in the soul either. So, all things being equal, no, I suppose not, and I have to admit, I do want this beautiful doll.'

'Then, all that needs to be done now, since you so willingly agree the price, is for you to sign the contract...in blood my dear sir. Sign the contract, 'the deed of purchase so-to-speak, and she shall be yours forever. The blood must be your own mind you.'

'Contract? Contract? I know of no contract? My dear fellow. All I wish to do is purchase the doll, but, if you insist that I sign some sort of paper in order to take her from this shop, then sign I will. Show me dear fellow, where is this contract you wish for me to sign?'

The ToyMaker clapped his hands, 'Splendid, my good Sir, splendid.' With a wave of his hand, and as if by magic a large piece of paper appeared upon the counter., next to which a quill also appeared. The feather of the quill seemed to be made of solid silver - not your usual quill-type writing instrument at all

Woven into the feather seemed to be strange symbols and patterns. Furthermore, next to the quill was an ornately-decorated needle. 'Pick the needle up, my dear sir, stab your left thumb with it...YOUR LEFT THUMB, MIND YOU! Next place the nib of the quill so it absorbs your blood. Press the quill against your thumb, and then sign your name...there, on the bottom of the contract. The contract would then be sealed, and the deal done.'

Following the instructions to the letter, Broadbent grasped the needle and pricked his left thumb before, placing the nib of the quill against the blood that appeared. Broadbent gasped in amazement as the beautiful silver feathered quill seemed to change colour, becoming a deep scarlet red. It seemed to pulse within his hand, as if the very thing itself was breathing. He quickly signed his name. 'There, 'tis done. Now, my dear fellow the doll, if you please.'

The Toymaker smiled, and picking up the contract, studying the signature written in Broadbent's own hands. 'That will do very nicely, very nicely indeed.' Putting the contract within his waistcoat pocket, he placed the doll within a small wooden box, and locked the box with a small brass key. 'My dear sir, thank you for doing business with me. It was a pleasure indeed...she is now, all yours.'


Broadbent nodded, 'Yes, yes, whatever my good man. Now, please, I'm in a hurry, I've spent enough time in here as it is.' He hesitated before leaving. ''Er, one thing, my good man. How are you going to go about getting my soul? Er. I am somewhat confused over that part? Also, if I believe that I do not have a soul, well then, all what you have just had me do was for nothing...is it not?' he raised an eyebrow.

'Hahaha, dont' you worry yourself about that, sir. Don't you worry about that at all,' he turned and hobbled away toward his workshop, glancing up toward the top shelf, where he kept all of his dolls, mannequins and other assorted toys he had repaired over the months and years, again the dolls, gazed down at him with expressions of sadness upon their faces. 'Indeed, when the time comes..I shall collect..hehehe.'

'What do you mean...when the time comes?' He watched as the Toymaker slowly made his way to the back of the shop, where he worked upon any old and unwanted toys he would happen to come across.

'Oh, you will see sir,' shouted the ToyMaker, 'You will see. Now, good day to you sir. Give my regards to your lady wife. Please, close the door on your way out, such a cold and bitter night, this night.'

The Toymaker nodded as the customer known only as Broadbent, closed the door, he sighed deeply. Ah, desire, he had such a desire to own her...hmm I wonder how far that desire will take him? Enough I suppose that he sells his own soul.'

~~

'Pray, what is in the box dear, for I fear you have been spending without need again.' Sarah was a beautiful woman, an even-tempered woman. A woman with high morals, and a good disposition, while James, her husband, was forever spending money on things that they really could not afford. Yes, they lived in comfortable surroundings but Sarah was thrifty, counting every penny that came and went. This was something that annoyed James Broadbent...a lot.

He raised his hand and stopped her, just as she was about to give him another lecture about the evils of spending money that they did not have, at present. 'Before you start, dear wife, what is in that box is a surprise for you,' he nodded toward a small wooden black box he had placed on the chair.

Her eyes widened, Oh James, for me? I really do appreciate it. I really do, but we do not have the money to be spending like this.'

'Never you mind my sweet. I have not spent a penny. No not one penny?' He stood with his arms folded, laughing.

'Stolen! Oh James how could you?! You have stolen it!?'

'No, no my dear. Pray, listen to me. I have got it for nothing. Look, let me open it. In fact, it is yours, after all so you open it. A present for you my dear.' His brown eyes, never left her, as he watched her closely. She stood, and he laughed as she made her way toward the black wooden box, that was upon the chair.

'For nothing? How so?' she gasped, as she proceeded with the little brass key, to open the box. She placed her hand within and brought out the present, it was wrapped in an old copy of the Times newspaper.

James continued to watch her. He had been feeling somewhat guilty lately. His tempers had been getting the better of him, and Sarah, poor thing, had taken the brunt of them. Indeed, she was a loyal wife, steadfast and honourable. Her brown hair she wore in a bun, and only on special occasions would release her brown locks. They would come cascading down from her shoulders like a river, but most times she wore her hair up.

Sarah was also steadfast in her love for God. A devout churchgoer she attended everyday, and especially at Easter and Christmas. Many many times she had tried - to no avail- to get him to go with her...but he always said no. This hurt her heart very much, but she could not force him. Yet, he could be kind and loving, and often showed that side of himself to her. Now, he stood watching her, as she began to slowly unwrap the present that he had brought home for her.

'Yes, Sarah, you see, I just couldn't resist her.' James gasped again, as his wife finally unwrapped the present to reveal the doll. She held it up to her face, turning it this way and that, her brown eyes taking all in. A shiver ran down her spine as she held it within her hands at arms length.

'Er...What's wrong, Sarah?'

'I...I..don't know.' She placed the doll upon the table, wrapping her arms around herself, shivering.

'Sarah. Pray, what's wrong? Don't you like it? I specifically brought it home for you, knowing that you love dolls so much. I thought it would be a surprise for you?'

'How...' she lowered her head. She did not want another argument with James. It seemed that all he was doing lately was picking an argument with her. And, if she had to admit it, yes,
she was scared of him. They had been married these past five years, and the wedding was beautiful. Before they were married, he could not do enough for her, he was considerate, and kind and gentle-hearted. But, since 1882 - the year they were wed after a long and cordial courtship - his mood changed.

Broadbent had become more sullen, violent in temper. Indeed, it was as if the very devil himself had taken over him, such where his moods. Yet, still, despite all of that, his kindness would still shine through. 'Tell me, how much did you pay for....that?' She could barely speak the words. such was her loathing of the 'toy'.

'I told you. I didn't pay anything at all. I got it from an old toymaker, down Smithdown Road. He offered me the doll for...' he lowered his head, not wishing for his wife to see his face.

'...For what, James? Tell me. For what?' Sarah stood now, walking toward her husband, her eyes never leaving him.

'HE OFFERED ME THE DOLL FOR MY...!' James began to giggle. He knew that he shouldn't. But the whole situation was so out of the ordinary. 'Look, Sarah, I know how much of a believer you are in God and such like...'

'What has that got to do with... THAT!?' she snapped, stabbing her finger toward the doll.

'Well...I...er...he wanted my...soul for it.' He turned away and headed for the drink cabinet, snatching a a lead decanter full of wine, he poured himself a glass. 'There, now I've told you.'

'He...he wanted... what?' Sarah could barely believe what she was hearing.

'Quite simple my dear, he wanted my soul. So, seeing as how I do not believe in any sort of God - or soul for that matter - I gave him it. This was in exchange for the doll that you now have before you.' Taking another gulp of wine, he again, lowered his head, not wishing to listen to anymore of his wife's sermons on the folly of his ways, the fires of hell, and of how he had now condemned himself for the sake of a doll.

'You foolish foolish man. What have you done!? What have you done!?' I...' she lowered her voice not wishing for the maid, who was still on duty, to hear her. 'I do not like this doll. I never asked for it, and I certainly do not want it here. I want it out of the house.'

Broadbent's face twisted with rage as he threw her a cold glance.'Oh, you do, do you? Let me tell you something. I went out of my way to get you this. I was feeling guilty for the way I had been treating you lately. Is it not enough that you make me feel less than a man? Is it not enough that you throw the gifts I purchase for you back in my face too?' A rage consumed his very being as he rose from the chair. 'She is staying. I like her, and stay she will, whether you like it or not!'

'Her!? You are alling that, 'her'!? I cannot believe what you are saying!?'

'Shut up you stupid woman! I have had enugh of you! You do as I say from now on! You act like a wife should act! The doll stays, and that is final!' He glared at her, his nostrils flaring, as she burst into tears and rushed past him out of the room and up the winding staircase. Reaching her bedroom she slammed the door shut, there she stayed for the rest of the night.

James mumbled to himself, something or other about stupid women, how they had been the bain of his life. Sitting back down, he grasped the decanter and poured himself another drink, then another, then yet another, until he had finally drunk himself into a stupor...

He awoke. Not really sure of what time it was. He had lost all track of time. He held his head, and grimaced, it hurt so much. Too much wine. Outside the night had come and all was deathly quiet, while inside the maid had long since finished her duties for that day. Sarah must still be upstairs, he thought, rubbing his head, as he did so.

Suddenly his eyes fell upon the doll that had been left upon the glass dining room table. The mixture of the wine and the light from the coal fire, seemed to play tricks with his eyes. 'My God, you know you are so beautiful, I do think that I am falling in love with you, don't you know?' He reached out to grab the doll, but his hand always seemed to be snatching at air.

A voice, from somewhere made him sit up. 'I love you, James. You and I are meant for one another. We will be so happy together, you and I.'

He blinked, turning his head, thinking that it was his wife that had come back into the room, thinking that it was her way of saying sorry to him. After all, he did purchase the doll for her, he never meant to shout at her. She just always seemed to get in the way now - always seemed to irritate him.

The coal fire crackled as the flames licked over the embers that glowed orange. James scratched his head, Sarah was nowhere to be seen, it must have been my imagination, he thought. That's it, I've drank too much, I need to go to bed.

'I love you, James. You, of course heard me the first time.'

James gazed toward the doll and rubbed his eyes as he tried to focus. A look of shock swept across his face 'h...how?'

'Yes, James, we will be together forever. FOREVER AND A DAY!' A scowl shot across the doll's face, as her eyes became a black as coal. James Broadbent scrambled to his feet, gasping. A tight knot seemed to twist within his chest, as he looked on in horror at the sight before him...as the doll began to walk across the glass table.

With her hair and clothing back-lighted by the flames from the coal fire, burning bright, it was a scene straight out of hell itself. Her eyes grew wide as her mouth gaped open. James Broadbent keeled over in terror, it was just too much for his heart to take, losing his balance, he fell head first into the glass table, sending shards of glass everywhere and the doll flying through the air to land behind him.

Shards of glass embedded within his face, as the thing landed on its feet, and began to walk toward the stricken, and terrified man. Of course, James could do nothing at all about this situation now. He screamed out loud for God to help him...but of course, God would do no such thing. For you see, James had given his soul away, freely, a mortal sin indeed.

The dining room door opened and in walked the Toymaker with Sarah. James, who lay dying, could only gage on. With shards of glass sticking out of his body in all directions, the old Toymaker turned to Sarah. 'You see my dear, faith is such a strong thing to have. Oh, how I wish I could take you too, add you to my collection, but, alas, your faith is too strong for me. Hahaha, yes, too strong even for this old Toymaker.'

He stooped and picked up the doll, that was now inanimate, the Toymaker smiled. 'You have done well my dear', he whispered into the doll's ear. You have done your job so well.'

Placing her within his pocket, the Toymaker then proceeded to drag James Broadbent away with him, out of the large Victorian house. 'And you, my dear sir, I did warn you that I will collect what is due... in due course. Hahahaha.' They went down the gravel path, to disappear into the darkness.

'I know you, Toymaker.' whispered Sarah. 'I have always known about you. But, I never really believed that you would come here. I knew exactly where my husband had been, of course he did not know you...how could he, being a disbeliever in God?

Closing the door, Shrugging her shoulders, Sarah sighed, turned, and went back up to bed, free at last from the violence of her husband.

...
She had fallen in love with him. Her eyes opened wide as she held him within her hands. She gasped at the intricate detail of the whole thing. He felt so real, every single part of him.
Every single part, even right down to the shards of glass that seemed to be embedded within his cheek. Olive gazed at the old Toymaker, 'Pray, how much?'

'Ah see now, there is the problem. It took many days too...'




Copyright
{c}2007
Wayne Leon Learmond
The ToyMaker
All Rights Reserved