The tale of a sinister toymaker.
|Everyone has heard of Don-Caram. Even you must have heard of Don-Caram.
Well, I'd better tell you, before you get yourself into trouble with him.
He is a craftsman, an engineer, and a genius all in one.
You know where he lives. That poky little house at the end of your street, the one the kids prank and the adults throw suspicious glances at.
Yesterday, you thought you saw a shadow behind the moth eaten lace curtains.
There is a house like this on every street.
He inhabits every one.
His creations end up in most charity shops, the little clockwork toys that stand dusty at the back of the shelf.
The glass eyes creep you out. You've never bought one, and you've never seen anyone buy one.
Nobody has ever wondered where the toys come from. They just... arrive.
Nobody has ever opened one up and looked inside.
Nobody has ever seen the little heart flutter, the metal chest rise, the glass eyes turn to stare at them.
I know. I know everything.
I am a craftsman, an engineer, and a genius all in one.
I live in the poky house at the end of your street.
I know which house you live in.
I know when you go to sleep, and when you will next be alone.
My name is Don-Caram.
And I'll be coming in the dark, because I am running of of test subjects.