《My Dear Evelyn》


 The Little House on the Hill

    In the little town of Cristallo, life seemed to be the same every day. Every morning, at the first sight of dawn, the shopkeepers would open their windows full of fine goods, each trying to urge customers to purchase their wares. Children would kiss their mothers and father¡¯s goodbye as they skipped away to the sunflower-coloured schoolhouse, where the teachers would count all their small heads in a line. When dusk draped the sky, the shopkeepers would count their profits for the day, children would drag their sack of school papers home as their parents prepared supper, and then the townsfolk would tuck themselves into their beds, and repeat the schedules of their forefathers.


    In the little town of Cristallo, an older man, known by the local children as, ¡°Mr. Nick-Nack '''' was content living this life with his wife of four, wonderful, decades. Mr. Nick-Nack and Mrs. Nick-Nack lived in a cozy cottage at the top of the hill overlooking the town. When the sun kissed the cottage, the whole community could see the warm, wine-coloured bricks that made up the house, the grey rooftop with holes of various sizes lovingly fixed up by Mr. Nicknack. The smell of cinnamon escaped Mrs. Nick-Nack¡¯s long chimney as she baked her famous ¡°Spiced Cinnamon Pie.¡± Attached to the little red house on the hill was a workshop of equal size to the house.


    The workshop was made of fine and sturdy oakwood. A sign made of pink plaster on top of the house decreed in large letters, ¡°Nick Nick Nook: Toys and Treats¡±. Every day, children would come running to Mr. Nick Nack''s workshop to see the marvelous toys he crafted for them, such as a music box with a dancing ballerina, as well as hoping to eat a slice of Mrs. Nick-Nack¡¯s famous pies. Despite all the joy the Nick-Nack¡¯s created for the children, the couple would cry in their little red house at night as they mourned the laughter they would never hear from a child of their own. As Mr. Nick-Nack¡¯s blonde hair turned cloudy, Mrs. Nick-Nack¡¯s brunette curls came undone, and their joints became rusty, the joys of hearing many children laugh was worth every sudden pain in their backs.


    Then one autumn night, Mrs. Nick-Nack¡¯s smile faded away as she lay in her bed, her cherished husband weeping into the bedcover as if he was a raincloud. The night before, screams and crashes echoed through the streets as a cloaked figure ran from the little house on the hill. The town mourned Mrs. Nick-Nack as if she was the grandmother of every person living there. When his wife¡¯s smile vanished, so did Mr. Nick-Nack¡¯s. Nick Nack Nook slowed down the production of their toys and the children moved to a rival of Nick-Nack¡¯s, though the man was not nearly as imaginative. Very few people saw Mr. Nick-Nack leave his home during the day, but many people recount stories of hearing the wails of a man, trying so hard to be a prayer, begging God for just one more chance.


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    Two decades have passed since the story of Mrs. Nick-Nack ended. Mr. Nick-Nack, now a man in his twilight years lived alone in that little red house on the hill. Every morning, the light could shine over the closed velvet blue curtains, the distant sound of children laughing was a cruel reminder. Mr. Nick-Nack would rise from his bed, dragging his feet along the cold floor. There was a soft knock at the door as Mr. Nick-Nack was putting on his warm, orange robe.


    ¡°Come in, Mr. Scheletro¡±, Mr. Nick-Nack ordered his employee, ¡°the door is unlocked.¡±


    A young man, about twenty-five, entered the workshop. His skin was as pale as freshly fallen snow, his eyes a soft violet, and his hair sparkled like a pearl. Gastone Scheletro closed the door behind him, brushing the dust off his onyx waistcoat. Gastone had been working under Mr. Nick-Nack for seven years, serving as an aide for Mr. Nick-Nack, as well as providing a listening ear. Gastone took off his pitch-black coat, placed it on the oak coat hanger, and fixed his grey sweater.


    ¡°Good morning, sir,¡± Gastone chippered, ¡°how are you this morning? Did you rest well?¡±


    Mr. Nick-Nack looked at Gastone with sorrow in his large, brown eyes. His body wrinkled with age, as he carefully grabbed Gastone¡¯s naive hand and began petting it.


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    ¡°My boy,¡± The old master began as he sat in his velvet chair, ¡°I had that dream again. The one recalling the day I met my beloved Adelaide.¡±


    Gastone held the elderly man¡¯s shaking hand with a firm grip, and slowly rubbed the shoulder of his master.


    ¡°Would¡­talking about it help, sir?¡± Gastone whispered as he pulled up a wooden stool, ¡°You¡¯ve told me about your other dreams, but never this one. I don¡¯t mean to pry.¡±


    The widowed man went quiet for a moment, and Gastone swallowed his words. He wondered if he caused the man to lockdown. After all, his wife was a semi-taboo subject. When she first died, Mr. Nick-Nack would fly into a depressed rage at the mere mention of her name. Now, twenty years later, all he had left were those memories.


    Tick, tick, tick, went the aged clock.


    ¡°She¡­was the only one who had any faith in me,¡± The elderly man spoke, breaking the tension, ¡°She believed in my abilities to change the world.¡±


    The sorrowful man¡¯s eyes sparkled in a way that had not happened in years, his frown melting away into a soft smile.


    ¡°Adelaide was the one who bought the first toy I ever made from my shop,¡± Mr. Nick-Nack recalled as he sat down in his velvet chair, ¡°It was a golden music box, with a ballerina made of porcelain that danced all on her own. Adelaide had never seen anything like it. She¡­ kept it for many years.¡±


    Mr. Nick-Nack¡¯s soft smile melted again into a frown, the sparkle slowly fading from his eyes. His grip on Gastone¡¯s hand became constrained. Light tears painted his elderly face.


    ¡°When¡­she died,¡± The toymaker said in a low, and husky voice, ¡°Adelaide asked that I¡­play the music box one last time. She wanted to see the ballerina dance and hear her song, just one more time. ¡­Oh, dear boy, dry your eyes¡±


    Gastone did not realise that he had begun crying and wiped away his tears with his opposite hand. Both men had a stiff hold on the other, the only noise in the room being the slow ticks of the clock.


    Mr. Nick-Nack¡¯s eyes widened as his cinnamon eyes began to light up. His tight lip transformed into an open grin.


    ¡°Mr. Scheletro,¡± Mr. Nick-Nack commanded in a hushed tone, ¡°go to my workshop and dust off my old desk. Hand me my cane, we have much work to do.¡±


    Gastone nodded as he jumped to his feet, quickly grabbing the silver key to the once abandoned workshop. He opened the windows to light them, and grabbed a nearby cloth to wipe down the large work desk. Gastone rushed to the kitchen, where Mr. Nick-Nack¡¯s blue cane with a silver butterfly emblem was placed. The young man returned to his master, who was still in his orange undershirt, shorts, and slippers, and helped him stand from his velvet chair with his cane. The pair made their way to the workshop as Gastone aided Mr. Nick-Nack once more to his work chair, with Mr. Nick-Nack¡¯s knees letting out a sharp crackle.


    ¡°Grab yourself up a chair, Mr. Scheletro,¡± ordered the old man, ¡°you will be the first to see such a marvel.¡±


    Gastone did as his employer asked of him, securing a spot next to Mr. Nick-Nack on an orange stool. Gastone watched in amazement as Mr. Nick-Nack began sketching on a large sheet of paper in pencil, Gastone could recognize a female body, a slender figure, and a round youthful face, and long hair. When Mr, Nick-Nack finished pinpointing where the ball joints would go, he began drawing variants of dresses, some more detailed than others. Mr. Nick-Nack stopped his sketches as he hastily grabbed a toy soldier and a music box from a shelf beside his work desk. He began taking them both apart, studying their intricate mechanisms. He plucked the ones he needed as he drew them on the paper. Gastone was confused, but he couldn¡¯t help but admire the speed at which the seemingly crippled man worked.


    The day shifted into the night, and two meals of roast beef and potatoes had been eaten before Mr. Nick-Nack had finished his sketches, with notes detailing which mechanisms would go were. The master presented the piece to Gastone, who quickly looked over the work and noticed the measurements.


    ¡°Pardon me, Mr,¡± Gastone said, ¡°but the measurements say that you want this doll to be about five feet and three inches? Is that not a bit large for a children¡¯s toy?¡±


    Mr. Nick-Nack peeked at the measurements, nodding slowly as he read them.


    Mr, Nick-Nack quickly signed his name on the paper, and rolled it up. He instructed Gastone to close all the windows, and when Gastone went to help his master, the elderly man waved his hand.


    ¡°Do not worry about me,¡± Mr. Nick-Nack said while distracted by his work, ¡°I will manage my way to my room on my own. You go home to your parents and brothers.¡±


    Gastone was hesitant to leave Mr. Nick-Nack alone, fearing his depressive episodes which made life hard for the man. As he put on his coat and grabbed his deep blue book-bag, Gastone looked over his shoulder once more at Mr. Nick-Nack who was cradled over his desk with ankles shaking like trees in the wind.


    As Gastone opened the door, Mr. Nick-Nack turned to him, a serious expression on his face.


    ¡°Whatever you do, Mr. Scheletro,¡± Mr. Nick-Nack commanded softly, ¡°do not tell another living soul the details of this work. We can not risk our reputations at this moment. We¡¯ll be put in the Senza¡¯s Speranza¡¯s Home for the Wayward for the rest of our days.¡±


    Gastone looked worriedly at Mr. Nick-Nack, never seeing him in such focus before. He nodded slowly and locked the door behind him. The chimney from the house on the hill released a light steam that grew smaller and smaller as Gastone walked back to town. Whatever Mr. Nick-Nack was working on, Gastone hoped it would finally bring the heartbroken widower some peace.

 Thick as Blood

    Gastone Scheletro made his way down the grey stoney pathway connecting the little house on the hill to the rest of the Cristallo. Gastone enjoyed the walk, as it helped him clear his mind of the worries he held for Mr. Nick-Nack. The young apprentice looked down at his feet, as he couldn¡¯t help but wonder if the man he looked after for so many years had much time left. Mr. Nick-Nack was a man of about eighty, unable to move on his own, no clear purpose in his eyes, and hobbled away the days in mourning. Gastone was a boy of only five when Mrs. Nick-Nack died, but he remembers the day as if it was just yesterday. He remembers her lead-lined coffin being carted around the cobble streets of the town, with mourners holding candles, lighting up the dark roads. He remembers Mr.Nick-Nack had to be physically pulled off the open-casket at the funeral, crying in great pain. Seeing the widower in such pain is what made Gastone want to work for him in the first place, to show Mr. Nick-Nack that he still had someone on Earth that cared for him.


    Gastone shook his head, breaking his daydream as he looked around him. The streetlamps were being lit by a man in an old coat, a mother was holding her newborn and trying to take control of her toddler, and an elderly man was sitting on a bench with his cat. Many of the houses looked similar, standing side-by-side, made of plaster and bricks, with almost every window having a small balcony attached. The once-white plaster walls were now various shades of yellow due to age, and the once bright orange rooftops were now a mud-brown. Gastone sighed as he looked around the mellowing settlement. He knew he didn¡¯t want to stay in Cristallo forever, but he had a duty he was happy with upholding to Mr. Nick-Nack.


    Gastone finally made his way onto 4 Jasper Blvd, the home he shared with his parents and brothers. Gastone looked up at the abode, admiring it. The home was made of an imposing brick, with cream-coloured windowsills, and a mahogany door to welcome visitors. Gastone quickly hopped up the stairs, turning the bronze key into the keyhole until he heard the familiar click. Upon opening the door, Gastone was greeted with the comforting sound of a piano, his mother was home.


    ¡°Mum?¡± Gastone asked as he took off his boots and coat,¡± I just got home!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in the den!¡± A soft voice answered, ¡°your father and brothers won¡¯t be home for a while longer!¡±


    The young man walked up the grand hallway, its walls drowning in the portraits of generations past, and made his way into the den. His mother, Arielle, was sitting at the deep red piano, her long fingers dancing on the keys. When she turned to face her youngest son, Arielle gave off a soft smile.


    ¡°How is Mr. Nick-Nack doing?¡± Arielle asked as she poured her son a cup of tea, ¡°did he like the roses?¡±


    Gastone nodded his head in thanks, taking a sip of tea and making a large gulp, ¡°He said he¡¯s very thankful, said it brightened up his shop.


    ¡°Has he been moving a lot?¡± Arielle asked.


    ¡°Actually, today-¡°Gastone quickly caught his tongue. He knew he promised Mr. Nick-Nack he wouldn¡¯t tell anyone about how the elderly master was acting today. Perhaps it was better if his mother didn¡¯t know, at least until Mr. Nick-Nack said so.


    ¡°Actually, today he¡­. walked around his living room more than usual.¡± Gastone replied, unsure in his words.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s wonderful!¡± Arielle remarked, ¡°Poor man has been bearing so many crosses, I thought he would never leave his armchair.¡±


    Arielle took a sip of her tea before looking back at her son, curiosity in her eyes.


    ¡°Have you¡­thought about applying to King Victor University?¡±, Arielle inquired.


    Gastone gagged on the tea he was drinking, wiping the drops from his mouth.


    ¡°Mum, we¡¯ve had this conversation before,¡± Gastone remarked, ¡°I promised Nick-Nack I would be there to support him. I can¡¯t leave, not when his health is failing the man.¡±


    Arielle put her teacup down, the soft smile on her face slowly melting into a stern and worried expression.


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    ¡°This may sound harsh, my flower,¡± Arielle began, ¡°but Mr. Nick-Nack¡¯s poor health is why I am asking. The man refused to see doctors for years, he is incapacitated with grief, his story is sadly coming to an end.¡±


    Gastone looked down into his teacup, his image staring straight back at him, what his mother was saying was true. He knew he had to think about his future, his education, maybe finding a suitable woman and settling down. His older brothers, aged thirty-two and twenty-eight, had already finished their education and were moving to the capital. Sergio, the eldest, was going to medical school and the second eldest, Piero, was training to be in the royal guard. That left Gastone, twenty-five with no romantic or economic prospects.


    Arielle placed her hand on her son¡¯s arm, giving him a soft smile. Gastone looked at her hand, not making eye contact.


    ¡°It¡¯s not too late,¡± suggested Arielle, ¡°King Victor¡¯s is still taking applications for the autumn semester.¡±


    Suddenly, the door opened, and Guglielmo entered the room. He bore a strong resemblance to his youngest son, but was thinner, with grey hair and soft hazel eyes. Arielle stood up from her chair, giving her husband a light peck on his cheek as she helped him remove his coat.


    ¡°Hello, dear, ¡°Arielle beamed, ¡°How was the lab work today?¡±


    Guglielmo let out a deep sigh as he lit his cigarette and took a puff before removing his hat.


    ¡°Oh, my Arielle,¡± The tired man began, ¡°I haven¡¯t seen a person this stupid since one of my students used the burners to burn his paper.¡±


    Arielle stroked her husband¡¯s back, turning her attention away from her youngest boy and guided him to the velvet couch. She rubbed his right hand as his left held his cigarette.


    ¡°This new student is testing my patience,¡± Guglielmo snapped, ¡°This new apprentice we took in has no idea what she is doing! She interrupts the other apprentices, we¡¯ve caught her eating sweets by the chemical storage, and she is the very definition of annoyance.¡±


    Gastone looked down as his father ranted, this wasn¡¯t the first time an arrogant student had given his father a migraine. Arielle gripped her husband¡¯s hand, hoping to soothe him as his breathing grew heavier. Guglielmo took a deep breath and a puff of his cigarette before finally noticing his son.


    ¡°Ah, Gastone,¡± Guglielmo remarked, ¡°I hope your day was better than mine was.¡±


    Gastone left out a soft sight as he placed his cup of tea on a nearby side-table, dusting himself off.


    ¡°It was¡­,¡± Gastone whispered, ¡°the same day as usual.¡±


    Guglielmo chuckled as he took another puff, before putting it out in the well-utilised ashtray.


    ¡®Did you meet any girls while walking through town today?¡± The father asked his son, whose expression soured.


    ¡°No,¡± Gastone retorted. ¡°I haven¡¯t, Father.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m nearing fifty-seven,¡± Guglielmo signed, unsurprised, ¡°I¡¯d like at least one of my three sons to settle down and have at least one grandchild to spoil before the reaper comes knocking for these knotty old bones.¡±


    Gastone sprung up like a Jack-in-the-box from his seat, spilling some tea on his sweater, his right eyebrow twitching.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± Gastone stated, teeth clenched, ¡°I suddenly remembered that I have to finish something for Mr. Nick- Nack.¡±


    Gastone silently but firmly placed his teacup back onto the silver tray, then hurrying out the door with a thunderous behind him.


    Arielle looked at the door before giving her husband a slightly annoyed look.


    ¡°What?¡± Guglielmo asked, with a snicker on his lips, ¡°My father told me the same thing and that¡¯s how I ended up with you, darling.¡±


    Gastone hurried to his bedroom, the dark walls decorated with posters and news clippings of scientists, engineers, and inventors from the major cities. He sat at his desk, turning on the lamp and massaging his temples. He had just about enough of everyone telling him how to spend his time. He knew he came from a family of geniuses, but did not need to be reminded every five minutes.


    Then, Gastone started thinking. He did wish that he had someone to care for, look after, provide for, but he didn¡¯t have time for anything romantic between taking care of Mr, Nick-Nack and helping his parents, so he never gave the idea much thought before. It wouldn¡¯t be fair to any girl he met if he wasn¡¯t able to spend time with her. Gastone sighed and looked up at the window, the moonlight dancing on his pale skin.  He looked down at the cobblestone streets to see a young man giving a small bouquet of flowers to a young woman. Gastone smiled at the gesture.


    Suddenly a soft knock at the door filled the emptiness of the room, Gastone plopped his head on his arms, just wanting to be left alone.


    The door opened with a creak, and Arielle walked into the deeply lit bedroom of her youngest son. She placed a hand on his boney shoulder and gave him a light kiss on the top of his head.


    ¡°I know, Gastone¡±, Arielle spoke tenderly, ¡°that you promised to look after Nick-Nack. However, there¡¯s a whole world outside of that workshop that you¡¯re not exploring.¡±


    Arielle placed a flyer by her son¡¯s notebooks, her blue sleeve gracing the top of his head, before turning on her heel and walking back to the door. She opened it, the door once again giving a soft creak.


    ¡°At least think about it,¡± Arielle pleaded, her eyes flooded with worry, ¡°for your sake.¡± Arielle closed the door behind her, the click-clacks of her heels slowly dimming as she walked away.


    Gastone looked up from his arm, and took a glance at the flyer. It was for King Victor¡¯s University, one of the most prestigious schools in the entire country. The flyer had the phrase, ¡°Forming the future, today!¡± written in large golden letters. This was the school Gastone¡¯s father had studied at years ago and where his parents had originally met. He looked at the bottom of the crinkled flyer, ¡°Admissions for the new semester open July 12th, 1876!¡± Gastone looked at his calendar to the left of his desk, the date read: March 4th, 1876.


    Gastone sighed, and began tinkering with the old music box from his childhood on his desk. His father would play the music box to Gastone when he was young, a way to combat the monsters that only seemed to appear when the night came. Before long, a sombre tune began playing from the music box, causing Gastone to smile. He looked up from his window, to see a bright star in the sky.


    Placing the active music box down, Gastone closed his eyes and firmly placed his hands together.


    ¡°Please,¡± Gastone whispered, ¡°help me find my way in life.¡±


    The young man opened his eyes to see a cloud covering the star, leading Gastone  to shake his head. He then got up out of his rather uncomfortable chair. He moved to his bed, spread his arms wide, and fell onto his back. He wasn¡¯t sure what to do with his life exactly. So much was expected of him, but he had so little time. Gastone closed his eyes, music box still going, and hoped tomorrow would be a better day.

 A Little Wishing Goes A Long Way

    Gastone woke up the next morning, his head feeling heavy. He looked outside only to see the sky was still a dark blue with small pigments of pink merging with it. Gastone sat up on his bed, leaned forward to stretch out his back, and brushed his wild platinum blonde hair with his large, rough hands. Getting out of bed, Gastone walked to his dresser on the opposite side of his room. It was almost as tall as he was, with beautiful golden hinges and an imprint of a fan at the bottom. The dark brown of the oak worked very well with the rest of Gastone¡¯s room. His older brother, Piero, used to call the dresser, ¡°the Lion Wardrobe¡± because of the legs resembling a male lion. He removed his shirt, stockings, and slacks from the drawer, closing it with a mighty thud.


    Gastone placed the articles of clothing on his bed, looking them over. He sat down on his mahogany chair, pulling up his well-made ebony slacks over his long, pale legs then pulled up his socks that were the same colour as his slacks. Gastone made his way back to the ¡°Lion Wardrobe¡±, He walked past the bronze-framed mirror, halting in his tracks. He stared at his reflection, a large scar danced across the front of his chest. He glided his left hand over the scar, Gastone¡¯s eyes following his hand in the reflection. Gastone then quickly shook his head, rushing past the mirror and putting on his cream-coloured shirt. The young man walked back to his dresser, looking at the waistcoats. Stroking his chin, Gastone looked over the selection of outfits carefully. His eyes focused on a deep blue waistcoat with thin white stripes as the pattern. Gaston carefully removed the waistcoat from the dresser and placed it over his shirt. He then fixed up his ocean-blue blanket and pillow on his bed, hating to come home to a messy bedspread.


    Gastone grabbed the violet leatherbound notebook from his desk, staring for a second at the King Victor flyer before reluctantly putting it in the front cover of the book. Gastone carried the prized notebook in his left hand as he turned the doorknob of his bedroom door to open it. As he closed the door, the thud echoed slightly in the hallway. He walked down the grand steps of his family home. As he made his way to the dining room for breakfast, he saw his mother reading the morning newspaper. The family¡¯s servant, a red-headed and quiet man named Garrot, was serving fresh salmon for the family.  Arielle was sitting at the oakwood dining table, still in her white nightgown as the clock bell rang five times. She looked up from the newspaper as Garrot poured some warm coffee into Arielle¡¯s cup.


    ¡°Good morning, darling,¡± Arielle said to her youngest song in a cheerful manner, ¡°you¡¯re up earlier than usual. Garrot, dear, please get Gastone something to eat.¡±


    Garrot nodded his head slowly towards Arielle, his hair bouncing like flame in a soft wind. As the servant poured warm earl grey tea into a porcelain mug and placed a generous portion of salmon on a plate, Gastone sat down from his mother across the table. Arielle placed the newspaper down, the front page illuminated by the lamp around the room. Gaston cocked his head to the side as he took a small bite of his salmon.


    ¡°King Victor announces plans for a spectacular exhibition¡±, the headline read, Gastone¡¯s eyebrows and eyes widening in surprise and terror at the news. Arielle noticed her son¡¯s widened eyes and took back the newspaper to read the rest of the article.


    ¡°His Majesty, King Victor, has announced plans for an exhibition in the capital last night,¡± Arielle began reading with slight excitement in her voice, ¡°The King says that the exhibition will highlight the growing talents of the country, with the top students being given scholarships to King Victor¡¯s University next autumn. A date is yet to be set but the King has suggested the event will take place later this year.¡±


    Gastone took a large gulp of his breakfast, practically forcing the food down his throat. His mother was giving a pressed smile as she folded up the newspaper.


    ¡°I know what you¡¯re going to say, Mum¡±, Gastone said in a stifled tone. ¡°You want me to enter the competition.¡±


    Arielle¡¯s pressed smile turned into an expression of worry as she began rubbing her temples. Garott quickly left the room and escaped to the living room, just to be safe.


    ¡°Please Gastone,¡± Arielle pleaded with her hands in prayer, ¡°This is a sign from above that your life means so much more! Why are you wasting your life away when you could be changing the world in the capital!¡±


    Gastone took a deep breath, trying to quickly regain his composure as best he could. He was tired and the day had only started. He quietly sat up from his chair, quickly patted his face with his napkin, and took a long, slow sip from his tea. He walked to the door, gave his mother a slight bow and a cheeky smile.


    ¡°Have a good day, Mum,¡± Gastone told his mother in a monotone voice, ¡°I¡¯ll be back later in the evening.¡±


    Gastone put on his black hat and coat, grabbed his book-bag and quickly made his way out the door. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking down at the cobbled streets underneath his feet. He could hear the boys and girls'' feet clacking on the road as they ran from their homes to the little red schoolhouse, the bell clanging from the belltower. The smell of cinnamon, chocolate, and vanilla-soaked cakes and cookies from the baker tickled Gastone¡¯s nose, causing his stomach to rumble. Gastone stopped in his tracks, remembering he did not finish his breakfast from earlier. Gastone made his way to the Sweet Dreams bakery, a place his older brothers and he would go all the time after school.


    Gastone opened the heavy doors of the bakery, and already the business was filled with men and women rushing to purchase breads and goodies for their families. The walls were filled with seemingly never-ending cakes and biscuits, the smell of them felt like a warm hug from a caring grandmother. Gastone walked towards the brightly-coloured and multi-flavoured buns, weaving past the other busy customers. He bent down, scanning the shelves before he settled on the selection at the bottom. He grabbed a small paper bag, and swiftly grabbed two poppy-seed buns filled with grilled tomatoes for a filling. Rolling the top of the bag to close it, Gastone made his way to the queue for the register, checking his pocket watch to look at the time. 7:14 am. He still had plenty of time. When his turn for the register came up, Gastone reached for his ruby-coloured leather wallet Nick Nack had given him, and gave the attendant enough silver coins to pay for his items. After leaving the store, he made his way to the road near the end of the village, carefully making his way to the little house on the hill.


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    Gastone hiked up the hill to reach the house before stopping at the front door. He fumbled around in his bag, searching for the key to open the door. After a few seconds, he found the key, twisted it into the lock, and turned it to hear the click. He opened the door and looked around the room, not seeing Mr. Nick-Nack. Gastone shut the door behind him, locking it before placing the key back into his bag. He called for Mr. Nick-Nack, concern growing in his voice with no answer from the elderly man. Gastone quickly rushed to the bedroom of his employer, only to be greeted with messy bed sheets, an open sewing kit with the thread spun like webbing, and pastel ribbon dancing on the floor. Gastone raced back into the living room before stopping in his tracks upon hearing a loud snore. Gastone quickly turned his head to face the sleeping Mr. Nick-Nack on a small pumpkin couch with floral print. Gastone breathed a sigh of relief before crouching down in front of the sleeping man.


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    ¡°Mr. Nick-Nack,¡± Gastone whispered, ¡°Mr. Nick-Nack, are you alright?¡±


    Gastone slowly shook Mr. Nick-Nack¡¯s shoulder, sparking the elderly man to scream for a moment before realising that he was not about to get murdered. Gastone helped Nick-Nack recover his breathing while apologising profusely.


    ¡°My boy!¡± Nick-Nack said, clenching his chest, ¡°Do that again and I shall be sent to the morgue!¡±


    Gastone rubbed the back of his head, as Nick-Nack sat up from his couch. After fixing his shirt, Gastone walked back to the front door to recover his book-bag with the buns inside. He handed one of the buns to Mr. Nick-Nack, who thanked them, albeit still shaken from being woken up so suddenly. The elderly man took a slight bite of the bun, his eyes focusing on the metal door behind the living room. His workshop. Once a place of childhood wonder, now only echoed the once whimsical dreams of a heartbroken man.


    Gastone noticed the old man¡¯s eyes wandering to the door, curious as to what was behind it. He remembered Nick-Nack at his work desk, drawing on his papers. Gastone wondered what could spark the shattered spirit of his employer back to life, even if it was a moment. Gastone munched his bun, wondering if he should inquire about the project of Nick-Nack.


    ¡°My boy,¡± Nick-Nack remarked, in a hushed voice, ¡°did I ever tell you why I decided to make toys?¡±


    Gastone shook his head, not being able to recall the tale. Nick-Nack placed his bun down on his mahogany table, placing a napkin underneath it.


    ¡°When I was a young man,¡± Nick-Nack stated, ¡°I had dreams of being an engineer. I wanted to recreate machines that would revolutionise our city. Machines that would make it known across the globe. My friend and I worked on our dreams, together.¡±


    Nick-Nack folded his furrowed hands as if in prayer, looking down at the floor. Gastone¡¯s head followed the direction of Nick-Nack¡¯s, curious to hear more.


    ¡°So, I decided to make my dream reality,¡± Nick-Nack recounted, his eyes overflowing with memories, ¡°For months we worked on an automated soldier. He could play drums, speak orders, and could even walk short distances. Surely, I figured our invention would be welcomed by the brilliant minds of the capital.¡±


    ¡°However,¡­,¡± Nick-Nack¡¯s face grew heavy with disappointment, ¡°The¡­plan did not go how I had wished. There was hope when we entered my soldier into the recruitment phase of the annual Diamond Innovation Society Exhibition. A career with them meant funding, fame, fortune.¡±


    Gastone¡¯s eyes widened with shock, the Diamond Innovation Society was one of the most respected scientific organisations in the country. Gastone¡¯s own father had worked with their engineers, who were often making headlines for their brilliance.


    ¡°My friend, Tony, he had taken our plans and made his own automated solider. His was stiff, cold, but the judges admired it,¡± Nick-Nack remembered, grief slowly leaking into his words, ¡°I was laughed out of the capital, believing I could no longer show my face there again, so I settled in this sleepy hamlet.¡±


    Gastone lowered his head, feeling sorrow for his mentor. While he worked primarily as a caretaker for Nick-Nack, the elderly man still let Gastone use spare parts from his workshop to craft music boxes and was the man who taught Gastone how to play piano. Many hours were spent filling the destitute room with heavenly melodies.


    ¡°I was ready to give up on my dream,¡± The old man remarked, ¡°I was told my inventions were not worth investing in, that they were too complex and wasteful, when¡­.she appeared.¡±


    Nick-Nack¡¯s weathered face lit up with joy, a fire in his cinnamon-brown eyes rekindled, his lips showing a slight smile.


    ¡°My beautiful Adelaide¡±, Nick-Nack remarked, his voice sparkling with affection, ¡°she gave me a pouch of silver coins, saying she would happily invest in my toy shop should I ever open one. Her hair was like caramel, her eyes were as green as emeralds, and her dress was a charming shade of blush pink.¡±


    Nick-Nack reached towards the mahogany coffee table, a table he told Gastone to not touch unless told to. He removed various books from a pile to reveal a dusty, aged frame. Nick-Nack caressed the frame to remove the dust, revealing a memory underneath. Smiling at the image, Nick-Nack handed the portrait over to Gastone with care. Gastone carefully took the portrait and laid his eyes on the image. A curly blond-haired gentleman standing close to a brunette woman, their hands entangled. On the corner of the painting was the date written in yellow, ¡°May 16th, 1816.¡±


    ¡°Our wedding day,¡± Nick-Nack remarked, his voice in a near-whisper, ¡°the happiest day of my life. After our wedding, we left the capital. We settled down here, built our little house on the hill. I used my knowledge to craft remarkable toys for the children: a mermaid that could swim, a bluebird singing a tune, and a dragon capable of breathing fire. They were¡­alive.¡±


    Gastone smiled at the sweet memories Nick-Nack shared, tracing the face of a young Nick-Nack.


    ¡°For many years,¡± Nick-Nack continued, bringing his folded hands to his chin, his eyes focused on the peeling wall in front of him, ¡°Adelaide and I tried to have children. It was a dream she and I shared for years. The children that we heard laugh everyday were only reminders of a gift we would never experience naturally, we tried so many methods.¡±


    Gastone¡¯s smile sunk, he knew that Mr.and Mrs. Nick-Nack were unable to have children, but did not realise just how deep that dream had been shaken. Nick-Nack¡¯s eyes focused on Gastone, his gaze as sharp as an arrowhead.


    ¡°Now, my boy,¡± Nick-Nack proclaimed with great pride in his voice, ¡°I can make that dream come true again.¡±


    Gastone cocked his head to the side, confusion struck on his face. His right eyebrow rose into an arch, his lips firm. Nick-Nack saw the reaction of his apprentice, although it did not shake him. Grabbing his butterfly-laced cane from beside him, the elderly man rose from the sofa. Nick-Nack staggered to the bookcase with Gastone close behind him, the aged shelfs overflowing with scrolls and compact books. Nick-Nack plucked a scroll from the shelf, quickly unrevealing it. A finished concept of a doll filled the paper, with various sketches of the head, the facial shape, even the length of the arms was jotted down. Gastone studied the plans, curious that the measurements still seemed rather large for a doll that a little girl would normally play with.


    ¡°Was Nick-Nack beginning to make toys again,¡± Gastone thought to himself, ¡°Yesterday was the first time he entered the workshop in years, was this a display doll?¡±


    Nick-Nack ushered Gastone over to the workshop door, hunched over his cane. Nick-Nack slowly opened the door to the workshop, still in disarray. A large table was in the middle of the room, a long white sheet covering the contents of the table. Various mechanisms from torn apart toys were scattered across different desks. Dust showered the room, with the overwhelming smell of metal in the musty air.


    Gastone slowly walked towards the table, confused. Nick-Nack placed his cane in front of his apprentice, forcing him to stop in his tracks.


    ¡°This room, my boy,¡± Nick-Nack remarked as he looked around the cluttered room, ¡°is where dreams became a reality.¡±


    Nick-Nack walked towards the sheet and gently pulled it off the table. Gastone¡¯s eyes widened, and he placed his right hand over his agape mouth. Underneath the table was a doll, placed on her side. If Gastone had to place an age on her, she looked about twenty-years-old at most. Her skin was made of smooth, golden porcelain, she had a mountain of sun-kissed curls, a large pink bow on her head matched her charming blush dress and ballet shoes. A small, heart shaped locket was placed gently on her chest. A small wind-up mechanism located in her back, partially covered by her curls. Her eyes shut like a baby doll. Gastone took a few steps back before falling to the floor, his expression frozen in shock as his hands covered his face.


    Nick-Nack carefully stumbled to a nearby workbench which held a tiny, blue box with a silver butterfly engraved on the lid. Nick-Nack carefully opened the box, revealing a small blue butterfly. He turned slowly, his cane in his right hand clicking on the wooden floor as the butterfly was held in his left.


    Gastone sat on the floor, following the old man with only his eyes. Nick-Nack stopped in front of the doll.


    ¡°When I created my toys,¡± Nick-Nack asserted, ¡°I knew they were capable of being more than simple childhood playthings. I knew if not kept in check, they¡¯d be a liability.¡±


    Nick-Nack raised the butterfly to the work light overlooking the table where the doll lay, the wings sparkled like a freshly mined sapphire.


    ¡°This butterfly is what gave life to my work,¡± Nick-Nack stated, ¡°This butterfly told my creations how to behave. They were not to put their own needs before the child who owned them, they could not harm the child who owned them, and most important of all, my creations were unable to tell a lie.¡±


    Nick-Nack moved the curls from the neck of the doll to reveal a tiny, heart shaped button. He gave the button a light push, and a swoosh could be heard as the doll¡¯s chest opened. Nick-Nack gently placed the blue butterfly into the chest of the doll, the butterfly glowing white three times before stopping. The latches in the doll¡¯s chest attached themselves to the butterfly¡¯s wings. Nick-Nack pushed the button again, closing the chest hatch. He then focused his attention to the wind-up mechanism to the back of the doll and turned it no more than three times clockwise.


    Springs and cogs inside the doll could be heard moving, before the doll opened her eyes, revealing their colour to be a near-pastel blue as she sprung up and sat up straight, looking straight at Gastone. Gastone could not do anything in his state of shock.


    Nick-Nack smiled as he looked in Gastone¡¯s direction.


    ¡°Mr. Scheletro,¡± The old master remarked with a tinge of excitement in his voice, ¡°say hello to my daughter, Evelyn.¡±

 Dearest Daughter

    Gastone forced his back to the wall, his sweaty palms against the wooden floor, terror frozen on his pale face. The doll Nick-Nack named Evelyn cocked her head to the side as she focused on Gastone. She looked at him, curious. She pushed herself off the table, her dress flowing as she glided over to Gastone. She slowly kneeled in front of Gastone, once again cocking her head to the side, her curls moving over her face every centimetre she did. Her porcelain hand edged closer to Gastone¡¯s face. Gastone closed his eyes tightly, hoping this entire ordeal was just a bad dream. There¡¯s no way Nick-Nack would have created a living doll, nobody would ever do such a thing.


    ¡°Boop.¡± a soft woman¡¯s voice said, clear as day. Gastone felt light pressure on his nose. Gastone opened his eyes to see Evelyn gently pressing on his nose repeatedly with a smile on her lips.


    ¡°Boop, boop,¡± Evelyn said happily, giggling every so often.


    Gastone jumped to his feet as if his shoes were ablaze. Now that he was standing up, he saw Evelyn was only about 162 centimetres, almost to Gastone¡¯s chest. She looked up curiously at Gastone, confused why she could not boop his nose anymore. She turned her head to the side and made her way towards the dust-ridden teddy bears in the corner of the room.


    ¡°P-Pardon me, mister,¡± Gastone stammered, fixing his waistcoat and hair, ¡°Um, w-why is she m-moving around?¡±


    Nick-Nack smiled at Evelyn in the corner, as she was picking up and squeezing the stuffed animals. She smiled at each one, carefully eyeing over each of them.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t she wonderful,¡± Nick-Nack remarked proudly, ¡°my finest work in years.¡±


    ¡°S-She¡¯s wonderful, I am sure,¡± Gastone replied, quivering, ¡°just what exactly do we do with her?¡±


    Nick-Nick focused his attention on Gastone, hurrying him into the corner.


    ¡°Well, she¡¯s got to learn how to be a proper girl,¡± Nick-Nack explained, ¡°and you are the perfect candidate to do so, my boy.¡±


    Gastone¡¯s eyes widened, he could not believe what Nick-Nack asked of him. Evelyn turned her head away from the stuffed bears.


    ¡°You can not be serious!¡± Gastone yelled, ¡°You make a giant doll out of nowhere, then tell me I need to teach it manners?¡±


    ¡°I understand your concern, young man,¡± Nick-Nack replied, ¡°however, as my apprentice it is my job to give you certain responsibilities. Now, it is your responsibility to give Evelyn an education. You¡¯re the smartest man I know.¡±


    Gastone gulped, swallowing his anger and releasing his fists. He took a deep breath and looked at Evelyn, whose attention was still focused on the pair. Gastone walked over to her and kneeled beside her. He picked up a black tuxedo cat from the pile of plush animals, showing it to Evelyn.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for losing myself with your¡­father,¡± Gastone told Evelyn, slight regret in his voice, ¡°will you take this humble fella as an apology?¡±


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    Evelyn blinked at the cat before using both her hands to carefully grab the cat away from Gastone, for a moment he felt her hand. Icy cold.


    Evelyn¡¯s blue eyes sparkled as she looked over the tuxedo cat. She gave it a tight hug before looking at him once more.


    ¡°Bruno.¡± Evelyn announced proudly, her eyes looking at the button eyes of the kitten toy. She placed the kitten down on her lap, patting his head.


    Evelyn looked up at Gastone before pointing at his chest.


    ¡°Name?¡± Evelyn asked, as her eyes focused on Gastone¡¯s.


    ¡°My name?¡± Gaston repeated, ¡°My name is¡­Gastone.¡±


    ¡°Evelyn,¡± The doll said proudly, as she pointed to herself.


    ¡°Evelyn is a wonderful name,¡± Gastone replied with a tight smile and gripped teeth, ¡°It is a pleasure meeting you.¡±


    Evelyn giggled as she sprung up from her seated pose, holding onto Bruno. She turned to face Nick-Nack and smiled at the elderly man before pointing at him.


    ¡°Pop-Pop!¡± Evelyn screamed excitedly, which caused Nick-Nack to smile warmly.


    Gastone just couldn¡¯t help but stare. He could not believe what he was seeing. A toy so animated that it seemed¡­alive? Surely that was against Creation, an abomination. Evelyn was looking around the room, her eyes shifting around quickly as her head turned around swiftly, Bruno flopping around in her arms. She spotted a small ray of light coming from a hole in the window shutter, and she followed it. She followed the beam of light and raised her hand to the shutter before it was smacked with a large *thud* from Nick-Nack¡¯s cane. Evelyn let out a yelp, and Gastone¡¯s eyes widened. The room went silent, with the only sound coming from the ticking of Evelyn¡¯s gears.


    ¡°No, Evie¡±, Nick-Nack ordered, ¡°Don¡¯t touch that. Open the window, and bad people will take you away from me. Understood?¡±


    Evie nodded slowly as she brought Bruno closer to her face, burying it in his soft fur and holding him tightly.


    Nick-Nack¡¯s wild eyes softened as he gave Evelyn a light pat on her head; her eyes fixated on the ray of light on the back wall.


    Nick-Nack turned to Gastone, whose brow was soaked with sweat and his face translucent. He could feel his chest closing in on him. Evelyn stared down at the creaking floor, her face full of shame. Gastone wanted to believe this was all just a terrible dream. Nick-Nack had created, despite all the frills, a monster. Something that went against nature itself.


    "Now then," Nick-Nack began, cracking the silence, "I expect you to be here tomorrow morning to help me with Evie."


    Gastone nodded, his head feeling heavier then before. Evelyn slightly turned her head towards him, giving him a soft smile which made Gastone quickly turn away from her. Gastone could feel his legs quiver as he walked towards the front door, his feet dragging as he gathered his things.


    " I don''t feel so well, sir," Gastone muttered, his eyes widened, "I..think I need to head home to rest."


    NIck-Nack looked over Gastone, his eyes nearly piercing his soul. His cold expression suddenly turned into a soft smile as he looked over at Evelyn in the corner.


    "It''s no trouble, my boy," Nick-Nack expressed happily, "In the meantime, I''ll get Evelyn ready for her lessons. She has....much to learn."


    Evelyn blinked as she held her stuffed animal closely to her chest, her cogs ticking in her torso. As Gastone opened the door, he took a deep breathe. He couldn''t let his family see him in this crazed state, he knew they''d ask him to step down from being Nick-Nack''s caretaker, something he wasn''t fully sure now if he really wanted.


    He opened the door, hurrying to close it behind him. He rushed down the path from the little house on the hill. his breathing getting heavier and heavier. By the time the streetlights came on, Gastone finally reached his home. He rushed through the door, passing by his brother Piero and his unmistakable red scarf. Before Piero could even greet his younger brother, the desperate sound of Gastone''s footsteps echoed on the grand staircase. He slammed the door to his bedroom, finally able to catch his breath. He sled to the floor, his back against the door as he buried his face in his knees.


    What was Nick-Nack thinking? Gastone thought to himself as he tried to calm himself down. He had never seen such a machine before, especially one that looked so....helpless. As Gastone sat alone with his thoughts, an obnxious knock on his door rang throughout his body.


    "BROTHER", the screechy voice asked, "How could you not even say hello to your WONDERFUL elder brother."


    Gastone rubbed his temples as he quickly figured out Pietro was at his door. He took a deep breath, figuring out how to explain his emotions.


    "I''m not feeling very good right now, Pietro," Gastone moaned, "I really don''t want to be disturbed at the moment."


    "WELL," Pietro hollered, "WHY didn''t you say so before?! I''ll make my honeysuckle and cow liver tea right now! It cures everything!"


    Pietro''s frantic footsteps slowly faded as he walked down the hallway, leaving Gastone once again to his fluttered thoughts. He closed his eyes, controlling his breathing yet his heart was still racing.


    Despite his gut telling him not to, he knew deep down that Nick-Nack would be lost without his help and knew he had to go back to that little house on the hill. As he began to undo his clothes, Gastone dragged himself to his bed, buring his face into a pillow as the cold air brushed against his skin. He closed his eyes, hoping that tomorrow would be less of a nightmare.

 Up the Ladder

    As the days passed by, Gastone had been charged with teaching Evelyn various subjects such as spelling and history. Some days were better then others, and today was no different. Evelyn was focused on the light centred on the wall as she sat with Gastone at the vermillion-coloured dining table, with Gastone on one end, covered by the curtains, while Evelyn sat on the other, wiggling in her seat with Bruno on her lap, hunched over with the light of the candle bouncing off her face. The only object between the pair was a book, full of animals of various shapes and sizes. Nick-Nack was sitting in his orange chair, his blue cane between his legs as he observed the makeshift lesson. For about a month now, Gastone had been coming to the little house on the hill in the morning to educate Evelyn, called Evie by her ¡°father¡±. Nick-Nack would not interrupt the lessons, merely watch. He watched in wonder, whereas Gastone would squirm when Evelyn tried to come closer. He noticed that she would scribble on loose paper during the lessons, mostly flowers.


    ¡°Now¡­Evelyn,¡± Gastone mumbled while pointing to an illustration of a steer, ¡°Can you tell me what colour this animal is and what noise it makes?¡±


    Evelyn giggled as she saw the page, putting her fingers to her forehead as if she had horns, ¡°Moooo!¡±, she squealed happily.


    Gastone nodded slowly in agreement, ¡°Yes, that¡¯s correct,¡± he stated flatly,.¡±Now, can you tell me what colour he is?¡±


    Evelyn cocked her head to the side and held up Bruno and shook him around excitedly.


    ¡°The cow is the same colour as the cat,¡± Gastone expressed through clenched teeth, ¡°But can you say the name of the colour?¡±


    Evelyn held Bruno closer as she pondered for a moment. She gulped nervously as she began to speak, ¡°Ba-ba-ba¡­.¡± She stopped, looking sheepishly at her feet.


    Gastone slowly nodded his head with each noise Evelyn made, stopping as suddenly as she did. His mouth formed an unimpressed frown, thinly hidden behind the illustration in front of him. He placed it down and rubbed his temples with his hands slowly. He held his head in his hands as he looked around the table, Evelyn kept looking down at her feet, while the old master looked on, quietly. Gastone took a deep breath before spotting his book-bag and he could feel the cogs in his head turning. He stood up from his chair, shocking Evelyn, whereas Nick-Nack looked down with a raised eyebrow. Gaston shifted through his bag and took out his violet notebook and a brown pen from the bottom of the bag. He walked back to the table and stood next to Evelyn, blocking the light from her face. He leaned over the table, writing something in his notebook and presenting to Evelyn. On the page were a series of words: ¡°Bah. La. Ack.¡± Using his pen to point to the words, Gastone turned to face Evelyn who looked back up at him with doe eyes, catching Gastone by surprise. He cleared his throat and looked back to the paper, Evelyn¡¯s head snapping in the same direction.


    ¡°Can you say these things?¡± Gastone firmly asked, ¡°Take as long as you need to.¡±


    Evelyn looked over each word, her from on Bruno tightening up. ¡°Bah¡­la¡­ack?¡±, she remarked, her voice squeaking between each word. Gastone nodded slowly. ¡°Now, repeat,¡± he ordered. Evelyn repeated the words ten times, her grip on Bruno becoming looser with each correct pronunciation. The old man watched from a corner; a soft smile hidden by his aged hand.


    Gastone nodded slowly. ¡°Now,¡± he began, ¡°can you say the three sounds together?¡±


    Evelyn looked up at Gastone and gave a confident nod as she looked at the page once more. ¡°Bah, la, ack! Black,¡± Evelyn responded, proud as pie. She looked up to see Gastone¡¯s expression was softer, but still firm as he placed the pencil down and gave a quick nod of approval. Evelyn smiled; her eyes filled with excitement as she made Bruno clap his paws frantically.


    Gastone smiled sheepishly at the mechanical girl, hearing not her claps, but her cogs. He could hear the tick tick tick of her wheels, the squeaking in her joints, unnatural movements for a doll. Nick-Nack on the other hand looked incredibly proud of his newest creation, how fast she was learning. She was an improvement. Nick-Nack slowly rose from his seat, clapping happily with a soft smile on his face.


    ¡°Very good today, Evie,¡± Nick-Nack said in a joyful tone, ¡°You¡¯ve come so far these last few weeks.¡±


    Evelyn smiled nervously, burying her face in her stuffed toy as she held him tightly. Gastone stared, still unsure if this entire experience had been a bad dream. He quickly gathered his belongings from the table, noticing Evelyn was looking at him from behind her toy. He felt a shock go through his spine, since she was perfectly still, yet her eye was wandering. As he placed his items back into his deep blue book-bag, locking it quicker than usual. Evelyn¡¯s blue eyes still locked onto him like a kitten following a butterfly. Gastone grabbed his coat and his hat, tipping it towards Nick-Nack, who was standing by the doorway.


    ¡°Good evening, sir,¡± said Gastone, tiredly, ¡°I shall come by tomorrow.¡±


    Nick-Nack smiled as he began closing the door behind Gastone, for a moment, he could see Evelyn waving goodbye shyly. As the door shut behind him, Gaston walked away from the little house on the hill with his face in his hands. He felt awful keeping such a secret from his family, but he had also promised to take care of Nick-Nack. Would anyone believe him? Would be locked in a madhouse for saying that he was teaching a giant doll how to name animals? Most likely, and who knows what his parents would think of such a story.


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    As Gastone walked down the hill and through the cobblestone streets and cracked apartments, he watched people close their windows, lock their shops, and blow out their candles. Gastone sat down on a faded brown bench with a dim streetlight looking over it. He crossed his legs and his arms as he looked up at the sky, passersby tipping their ebony and ash-coloured hats towards him.


    ¡°Beautiful night, isn¡¯t it?¡± An elderly woman¡¯s voice asked, causing Gaston to jump as he quickly turned his head. The woman wore a light blue dress with a floral pattern, a small, matching hat, round glasses, a cross around her neck, and had oak coloured hair. She was looking up at the stars, their lights reflecting in her frames. Gastone straightened out his clothing and his hat before speaking to the woman.


    ¡°It is, " Gastone replied, ¡°it brings me comfort to see them.¡±


    ¡°I was like that too,¡± the woman said while smiling, ¡°I would wish on them often when I was young, so did my son, and my granddaughter seems to like them. Although, nothing beats the view of the stars in the city.¡±


    Gastone smiled softly at the old woman¡¯s stories, before looking down at his feet.


    The old lady turned towards Gaston with her head cocked slightly to the side.


    ¡°Is something troubling you, young man?¡± she asked, curious, ¡°You shut up like a clam after seeing a catfish.¡±


    Gaston let out a deep sigh, before speaking.


    ¡°I feel like I¡¯m being pulled like a corpse torn apart by vultures¡±, he bemoaned as he plunged his face into his lanky hands, ¡°I feel like no matter what I choose, someone is going to be let down.¡±


    ¡°I suggest that you go with what your heart tells you,¡± The woman explained, ¡°you can¡¯t live your life for other people. You¡¯ll have more regrets that way.¡±


    ¡°¡­That¡¯s true,¡± Gastone replied before turning his head to face the woman, ¡°but... what happens if- ¡°


    The woman was gone. Gastone looked to his left and right, and she was nowhere to be seen. He shook his head as he held his forehead, ¡°I¡¯m going mad,¡± he stated with wide eyes, ¡°I¡¯m going mad.¡± He quickly walked home, wondering what was wrong with him.


    He unlocked and opened the front door of his imposing brick house, quickly shutting it behind as he headed up the ruby carpet stairs. Before he made it halfway up the stairs, he heard a familiar, and often comedic, voice.


    ¡°Who lit your pants on fire?¡± The voice asked in a calm manner. Gastone turned his head to see his older brother, Sergio, standing in the door frame of the living room. He was a stout man, with a light blue waistcoat and black trousers, with the trademark Snow White skin of the Skeletro family, but his eyes were a deep cobalt, like their mothers. He had a pink mug with blue flowers planted on it,


    ¡°Tired,¡± Gaston said, his hand on the banister and his head looking down, ¡°I¡¯m just¡­tired.¡±


    ¡°And I am the Queen of Gemstone¡±, Sergio said in a voice imitating an old woman, ¡°my first decree is free spirits for all sailors on Friday¡¯s!¡±


    Gastone chuckled, but didn¡¯t move his head or his hand as he climbed a few more stairs.


    ¡°Oi,¡± Sergio stated, ¡°That old geezer isn¡¯t working you too hard now, is he? You need your own life too.¡±


    ¡°I made a promise, Sergio.¡±


    ¡°I know you did, but that shouldn¡¯t mean your own feelings don¡¯t matter. I know you think Pops and Ma consider you a screw-up, but you¡¯ll achieve something great.¡±


    Gastone didn¡¯t reply before he began climbing up the stairs once again. Sergio just watched; his cobalt eyes heavy.


    ¡°Remember, kid,¡± Sergio said, ¡°¡­despite everything, it¡¯s still you.¡±


    Gastone stopped at the top of the stairs before he turned to the right towards his room. He undressed, throwing his old clothes onto his chair as he pulled out a nightshirt from his dresser and climbed into his bed, rubbing his eyes and staring at the ceiling. The room was completely shrouded in shadow except for some moonlight showered over Gastone¡¯s chest. The last few weeks between taking care of Nick-Nack, keeping the secret of Evelyn, and the mounting pressure of his family had convinced Gastone he was slowly descending into madness. He estimated it would be about a month or two before he was sent away in a padded kart to the madhouse. As he sighed and closed his eyes, he lay his arms out. Would his prayers for a concrete answer be fulfilled, or would his prayers fall on deaf ears.


    ¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­


    Evelyn watched as the door closed behind Gaston as she held Bruno close to her chest. She inched a tad closer to the door, as if wanting to open it. Nick-Nack locked the door, the silver butterfly sparkling under the moonlight. He turned to Evelyn and smiled at her.


    ¡°Now, Evie,¡± Gaston uttered softly, ¡°let¡¯s get ready for bed.¡±


    Evelyn nodded as she placed Bruno down on the nearby oak table, next to the silver vase of violet heliotropes and pink striped carnations. She glided over to the elderly man, carefully holding him by the arm. The pair made their way to Nick-Nack¡¯s chambers, and Evelyn helped him sit down on his bed. Evelyn turned towards the deep mahogany table, with a silver candle holder, with a nearly melted candle. She lit a match, pausing for a moment as she admired the dancing flames. She moved towards his umber-coloured dresser, complete with a golden picture of two beautiful women turned to the side, golden wings flowing behind them, the cabinet resting on gilded lion paws. Evelyn opened the doors with a creek and opened the drawers to find Nick-Nack¡¯s night clothes. Satisfied with her choice, she closed the doors and placed the clothing on the seemingly ancient blanket. Nick-Nack smiled as Evelyn stood next to the bed.


    ¡°That will be all,¡± Nick-Nack said, ¡°Good night, Evie.¡±


    Evie nodded as she glided over to the door, left the room, and closed the door behind her. She picked up Bruno from the sofa and held him by his paw. She made her way towards a door down the hallway of the little house on the hill and stopped in front of the first door and opened it slowly. There were no windows in the bedroom, the walls had no paint on them and were a deep grey. It wasn¡¯t large, and had a simple wooden bed frame, a mirror with no frame leaning against the wall, a small dresser decorated with lilacs, and a desk set with a stack of books draped on top and underneath them, plus a small cup with pencils in it. On the walls were many different pictures of flowers, Bruno, and fable figures. The only sign of the outside world was on the wall next to her bed. On it was a picture of the bright morning sky, with emerald grass and batches of butterfly weed.


    Evelyn grabbed a book from the top of the pile and opened it to reveal a series of words and pictures. She squinted at the text on the page but couldn¡¯t make out fully what it said. She turned her attention to the image of a young woman in a beautiful silver ball-gown, clear invisible slippers, and dripping with jewels speaking to a man who was just as finely dressed. Evelyn stared at the image and picked up her pencil. She studied the fashion of the man carefully, before setting her pencil down on the paper. When she was satisfied, she began making quick sketches, with only the sound of her gears as a friend.


    Before long, she stopped to admire her work and gave a slight nod. She carefully placed the paper on top of the book stack before grabbing a similar sized page next to it. She moved onto her bed, standing up on her tippy toes as she removed the picture of the garden to replace it with a drawing of the moon. Jumping lightly off the bed, Evelyn placed the morning image on the desk. She laid down on the bed, holding Bruno close, her eyes focused on the ceiling. Instead of sheep, she counted the times her cogs whistled. One, two, three, four¡­. five¡­. six¡­..

 Once Upon a Dream

    As the night transformed into the day, the sunlight began to pour over the little town. The light leaked through holes in the curtains of the little house on the hill, with a single beam reaching the dusty clock on the tattered wall. The outside resembled a dreamy medieval castle, its stones caked with dust and ware. A small navy and emerald peacock appeared out of the door, its nasal-like chirps resembling coughing rather than crowing. It coughed seven times before retreating to its home. Evelyn, her eyes closed, shot wide open at the end of the seventh cough. She sat up straight, her cogs still ticking, as she made her way to her mirror. She analyzed her image carefully. Evelyn brushed off her dress, adjudged her bow, and poofed up her curls as she turned towards her bed once more. She removed the picture of the night, and once again placed the picture of the supposed outside back up on the wall. Before leaving the room, she picked up Bruno and held him close in her arms.


    Evelyn glided over to her bedroom door and made her way to her father¡¯s room. She knocked on his door three times. No more, no less.


    ¡°Come in, Evie,¡± the old man answered on the other side, ¡°My knees are starting to bonk up.¡±


    Evelyn opened the door to see Nick-Nack sitting upright in his bed. He looked well-rested, happier than other mornings. She walked over to the side of his bed, helping him out of bed as the morning light peered past the breaks in the curtain. The old man took her arm as he pulled himself, albeit slowly, out of bed. He let out a soft grunt as his feet reached the floor, yet another morning under his cap. He grabbed the elegant cane by his bedside table, steadying himself.


    Seeing that her father was stable, Evelyn glided to his dresser, carefully taking his clothes out of each respective drawer.  She picked out an off-white undershirt, a caramel waistcoat, and a deep tangerine jacket. She laid them out on the bed as Nick-Nick smiled before returning to the dresser. She took out his coffee-coloured shirt pants, and a dark tangerine bow to match the father¡¯s weathered jacket. He smiled, thanked his creation, and Evelyn left the room, closing the door behind her. She squirmed around excited, knowing that Gastone would be arriving soon. She shuffled over to the beat-up mirror in the workshop, dusting off her dress and freshening up her bow. After quickly grabbing a haggard cloth, she used it to wipe up her face. She gave her reflection a supportive nod as Nick-Nack left his room, fully dressed. He carried himself over to his usual chair, holding tightly on his walking stick. Evelyn wanted to see if Gastone was walking up by the path, but Father said she wasn¡¯t allowed to get too close to the window, which was decorated with raindrops from the outside.


    There was a quick, efficient, knock at the door. Evelyn¡¯s attention snapped to the door as Nick-Nack ordered the person to come inside. The key clicked into the keyhole as Gastone opened the door, his silk, black coat trailing behind him as he held onto his hat and book bag. He swiftly shut the door, removing his coat and hat and placing them on the rack next to the door.


    ¡°Good morning, Nick-Nack,¡± Gastone said calmly as he nodded towards his employer who replied with a minor cough, ¡°¡­.and Evelyn.¡±


    Evelyn¡¯s smile grew to nearly her entire face as she fiddled with parts of her skirt. Gastone put his book bag onto the usual spots and took off his hat before turning towards Evelyn.


    ¡°Well¡­Evelyn¡±, Gaston said calmly as he put his hands together, ¡°Today is Friday, which means we get to pick whatever activity you want to do. Do you want to draw again?¡±


    Evelyn shook her head quickly in disagreement. She quickly shuffled over to her makeshift bedroom and came out with a large book, almost as large as her torso. The cover had gone from a snowy white to a pastel yellow, the spine held together with old tape, the pages smelling like smoke. On the cover was a glass slipper surrounded by ribbons, ribbons that still seemed bright after so many years. She handed the book over to Gastone, whose hand felt hers for a moment. Still cold.


    Gastone took a quick look at the book cover, he hadn¡¯t read this story in a very, very long time. Gastone gestured his arm to the large, oak dining room in the middle of the room where many lessons had once taken place. Evelyn made her way towards it before stopping suddenly in her tracks. She once again ran to her room, grabbing Bruno, and made her way over to the table. Gastone was already sitting down, the book opened. Evelyn sat down next to him, placing Bruno carefully on the table. She then rested her head on her arms, looking up at Gastone. Nick-Nack watched carefully.


    ¡°Once upon a time,¡± Gastone began, his tone soft, ¡°there lived a kind man and his beloved wife. The couple had one young daughter, named Elizabeth, whom they affectionately called Ella.¡±


    Gastone peeked at Evelyn as he was reading, she kept looking at him, her eyes focused on him.


    ¡°Then one evening,¡± Gastone continued, ¡°the wife became very ill and died. The man wa- ¡°


    ¡°Died?¡± A soft voice asked. Gastone stopped reading and turned to Evelyn who had a confused look on her face. Gastone bit his lip as he tried to think of the best way to explain it to Evelyn, he didn¡¯t want to scare her.


    ¡°It¡¯s, um,¡± Gastone thought aloud, ¡°when¡­someone takes a very¡­long nap¡­sometimes alone or with others.¡±


    Gastone looked at Evelyn, who seemed content with his answer. He let out a soft sigh of relief.


    ¡°The man wanted Ella to have a mother,¡± Gastone read from the book, ¡°so he married a woman of similar age, with two daughters slightly older than Ella. All seemed well on the surface, but one day the kind man also grew ill and died, leaving Ella alone.¡±


    Gastone paused for a moment to look at Evelyn who had a sad expression on her face, her blue eyes looking up at him.


    ¡°¡­Alone?¡± Evelyn asked in an unusual tone, ¡°Ella¡­. alone?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, yes,¡± Gastone answered sombrely, ¡°However, not all hope is lost for our Ella.¡±


    Evelyn¡¯s expression shifted from sad to relieved as she waited patiently to hear more.


    ¡°While Ella¡¯s stepmother made her sleep near the fireplace, covered in ashes, cook all their meals, and treated her poorly,¡± Gastone carried on, ¡°Ella never lost her hope that one day, she would be able to leave her stepfamily.¡±


    Evelyn, while she had been listening to the story, blanked out for a moment at what Gastone was saying. She kept her head on the table, resting it. Her ocean eyes focused on Gastone, who was looking down at the heirloom storybook. She adored listening to Gastone¡¯s voice, it was calming, like something that popped out of a happy dream. She wondered if he enjoyed listening to her voice as much as she liked his.


    Evelyn had enjoyed the lessons she shared with Gastone, even if she did not always understand him. Her eyes changed focus from his face to his hands, his hands looked so much larger compared to hers. She only felt them on a few occasions, only for a moment. His hand wasn¡¯t fuzzy like Bruno, it was smooth, firm, like a piece of marble. As Evelyn was lost in her daydream, she snapped to attention, suddenly springing up. Gastone looked at her, slightly confused with one eyebrow raised. Nick-Nack, who had been watching in the background, stared onwards. She leaped from the table and scurried back to her makeshift bedroom, Gastone simply stared in her direction. Evelyn came back, evidently holding something behind her back as she hurried back to the table.


    She stood over Gastone, squirming a tad. Before Gastone could say a word, she pushed a small, folded piece of paper into his face. Gastone looked at the paper for a moment before setting the storybook down and took the note from Evelyn carefully. She moved her hands behind her back as she began to fiddle with them, waiting for his reaction. He opened the note and took a light gasp. Evelyn had handed him a pencil drawing of himself, his expression stern yet kind. His clothes in the picture weren¡¯t his usual dark ones, but a cream, almost yellow suit with gilded trim and golden tufts on his shoulders. He gave the picture a soft smile.


    ¡°Thank you very much,¡± Gastone said to Evelyn while still looking at the picture, ¡°This is a wonderful picture, Evelyn.¡±


    Evelyn smiled as she held her clasped hands in front of her, her eyes a-twinkle. Nick-Nack, observing all of it, smiling softly as he sat in his chair. Gastone put the paper in his pocket as he opened the storybook once more. Maybe, this doll he saw in front of him, who had


    ¡°Now then,¡± Gastone asked softly, ¡°shall we continue with the story?¡±


    Evelyn sat back in the chair, bringing Bruno closer as Gastone continued reading. He had moved slightly closer than before they started the story. The rain clouds slowly broke away by beams of sunlight pouring through, as the light made its way into that little house on the hill.


    As the afternoon sky shifted to night and Gastone had gone home for the day, once again thanking Evelyn for her wonderful picture, Nick-Nack closed the shutters with his cane once more. Evelyn remained in the corner, away from the sun and starlight. When the final deep cedar shutter closed with an ear-shattering thwack, Evelyn moved from her position and glided over to her aging creator.


    She carefully placed her hands on Nick-Nack¡¯s shoulders, guiding him to his bedroom. She helped him sit down in his bed and went to grab his night clothes. Right as she opened the closet door, Nick-Nack¡¯s voice suddenly rang out.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Evie,¡± Nick-Nack remarked warmly, ¡°I will try and fetch my clothes tonight. You may go rest early for a job well done today.¡±


    Evelyn appeared shocked for a moment but smiled soon after. She closed the closet door with a shy but swift hand movement. She quickly moved to Nick-Nack, giving him a soft hug before moving to the door and closing it. Nick-Nack sighed happily as Evelyn¡¯s footsteps grew softer. She was a VAST improvement over the other creations he had made in all his years. If only his ideas hadn¡¯t been stolen by that fox! Then imagine just how many kinds of Evelyns he could produce if he had the resources available to his rivals in the capital. He would have their RESPECT, their backing, their position, power, privilege, and everything else he believed he was owed due to his skills in his field. Everything that had been stolen from him


    Nick-Nack¡¯s throat grew heated at the very thought of anyone trying to take Evelyn for themselves. He knew Gastone would never tattle on him, he was FAR too attached to Nick-Nack to betray him, like ivy on a house.


    HeNick-Nack opened the side door of his antique side table, its once vibrant emerald green and deep mahogany tones were now paler with age. Upon opening it, he saw a family friend: his old pipe and a heavily used set of matches. He never smoked in public, but Addy always hated the smell when they retired for the evening. Only one other house aside from Evelyn couldn¡¯t smell what Nick-Nack considered intoxicating fumes, but that individual was no longer of any concern to the great toymaker.


    Igniting the match, Nick-Nack set off his pipe and took a deep breath, and then expelled the puff. This was his treat to himself every single night for the last four decades, and he enjoyed every second of it. After huffing and puffing for a few minutes, he put out his pipe and lay down, albeit painfully in his bed. He looked next to time, at the pillow that had been empty for many nights. He just stared at it, both in sorrow and amazement. One night, they¡¯d have their evening chats about current affairs and the events of the day, and then the next it was all gone. All gone because of a horrible mistake.


    He stared up at the ceiling, covered in cobwebs, smoke, and many chats. As his eyes grew heavy, Nick-Nack yearned for those days again, even if it was only for the briefest of moments.


    ¡°Oh¡­. Addy¡­.¡± The widower said in a sorrowful tone, ¡°¡­. What¡­. happened?¡±


    ¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­


    ¡°¡­. Wake up, boy!¡± A stern woman¡¯s voice rang, ¡°The fair is tomorrow! You need to finish your report.¡±


    A young man, about twenty years of age and in good health, with golden girls and a slim figure, was shaken awake by his less-than-amused mother. The boy finally opened his eyes to reveal his mother, dressed in her cream walking gown, a puffed-up rouge vest, and a matching bonnet still on her head. This means he had slept in all morning, something he had done a few too many times. While still in place, her brunette curls seemed just as fuzzy as her expression.


    ¡°Well, move along!¡±, the woman said, ¡°If you don¡¯t finish that report then you can just say ta-ta to that invitation to the science fair tomorrow!¡±


    The young man nodded as he quickly hurried to get dressed. He dashed across the room to his grand mahogany dresser, quickly putting on his grey trousers as he hopped around his room to find his shoes. He found his favorite pumpkin-coloured, double-breasted frockcoat lying on his desk chair, and he snapped it up while buttoning his coat down the stairs.  His mother, who had been waiting for him to finish dressing, calmly walked down the stairs, her bonnet still atop her curls. The man opened the front door, quickly slamming it behind him. His mother turned to the left of the stairs to the living room, grabbing a leather book bag and a slightly conical tall hat from the couch before making her way to the front door. She sat on her wooden stool by the front as she waited alone. His younger sister, with brunette curls and a white gown and pink ribbon, giggled as she watched her brother run out the door.  Not long after, the young man kept bursting through the front door searching the environment around him in a panic. His mother, saying nothing, raised her arms and handed him his belongings. The man smiled and gave his mother a light kiss on the forehead, as he placed his hat on his head and held on tight to his bag. Once again, he closed the door behind him, remembering to lock it.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    The man walked outside and looked around him: streetlights gave off a soft, white glow from illuminated rose quartz, self-driving carriages made of thick and vibrant vines, and streetcars and trains powered by hot water and lemon juice. On long rides, the cars would always smell like freshly made lemonade. The young man hopped onboard a streetcar, admiring the white brick houses with glittering windows and brightly painted turquoise rooftops. People enjoyed the soft breeze created by standing on the fully automated sidewalks. The sky was as clear as freshly made glass and the air smelt like a dream. Every marvel in the two-hundred-year-old capital had first premiered at the Diamond Innovation Society Science Gala. The winners of the gala became respected members of the group, helping to shape not just the capital, but also to help improve humanity. The young man had dreamed for decades of joining this group, hoping to one day change the world too.


    ¡°Next stop is Walter Avenue!¡± A friendly male voice echoed inside the streetcar, ¡°Please ensure you have all your belongings before leaving your car. Enjoy your day in our fair capital.¡±


    The young man stepped off the streetcar, making sure he hadn¡¯t left his bag on board and ran down the crowded streets to a row of smaller buildings. This area was home to mostly smaller shops and boutiques but was also known as the Rookie Row by the locals since so many young inventors settled here due to the cheap rent and frequent fires. The man fiddled with his bag as he dug for his keys and walked towards a small apartment with semi-cracked paint and covered windows. He unlocked the door and took the papers from his bag.


    ¡°Tony?¡± the man yelled, ¡°Tony, are you here? I¡¯m sorry I overslept!¡±


    He walked from the front door, down the hallway, and inside the workroom. The tables were covered from cover to cover with books, pencil dust, and mysterious stains from drinks gone by. Papers with various formulas and ideas decorated the floor, some crumpled. There was a loud rustling before a head of bright, fiery hair popped up from the pile of books.  A young and slender man aged only a few years more than the gentlemen, with one green eye and one hazel eye, walked towards his co-worker. He wore an ensemble like his colleague, but he wore deep aquamarine blue for his frock coat with snow-white trousers. His shoes were polished to such perfection that one could see their reflection. In contrast, the gentlemen¡¯s shows how resembled a brick. On a nearby wall, there was a newspaper clipping with a portrait of the slender man, his multi-coloured eyes focused, almost icy. ¡°Anthony Volpe Outsmarts Opponent¡±, was written in large letters, recalling when he had won a local chess tournament a few months prior.


    Anthony was in the pair''s makeshift lab, focusing on their blueprints. The two had spent many sleepless nights in the lab, sometimes in a drunken stupor, working on their formulas. Anthony had circles under his eyes, biting his thin lips, his expression blank. In front of him were springs and cogs of all shapes and sizes, broken machinery, and red paint on his hands.


    The young man walked over to his old friend; he clicked his tongue as he looked at the massacre of spare parts. The science gala was tomorrow, but the pair still had no functional prototype for their automation. A few attempts were made in the last few months, but spontaneous combustion was not one of the planned features. The blonde gentleman pondered momentarily, knowing that if the two showed up with nothing, they¡¯d be laughed out of the festival.


    ¡°There¡­. must be something we¡¯re missing, Tony,¡± The gentleman thought aloud, ¡°an equation, a cog, something.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think I¡¯m aware of that?¡± Anthony replied with an unamused tone, ¡°I¡¯ve been staring at those damn prints all hours of the day and I cannot for the life of me figure out the nonsense. Every time we try to make the stupid thing move; it combusts!¡±


    For the entire afternoon, the pair tried making another prototype of their idea, making the automation the same size as a grown man. Unfortunately, no matter how hard they tried, something seemed to catch fire or break apart. As the sun set, the pair had no fruits for their tireless efforts.


    ¡°It¡¯s hopeless,¡± Anthony said as he sat down on a lumpy wooden stool, his face buried in his hands, ¡°We may as well call it quits, close up the lab, and be stuck sweeping garbage for the rest of our miserable existence.¡±


    On the other hand, the blonde gentleman stared out the window, his face lost in thought. He watched as the people walked by on the glided streets. Some of the passersby were the capital soldiers. The gentlemen always admired their uniforms, the men wore a rich green waistcoat, bright, white trousers, and a single green stripe on the side of their pants. Their boots, always shiny and looking brand-new, were a deep charcoal. They had tall, dark helmets with a golden seashell pinned onto them. The two soldiers were a few meters away, talking to a woman holding her newborn. They looked smaller from the distance¡­. like¡­toy soldiers¡­.


    The blonde gentleman sprung out of his chair; his eyes wide with passion. He grabbed a spare page from the mountain of papers around him and began drawing. Anthony raised an eyebrow, silently staring at his colleague.  After a few minutes, the blonde gentleman flipped the parchment over to show his friend: it was a diagram of a soldier, dressed like the ones who roamed the capital.


    ¡°This is how we can make our automation!¡± the gentleman exclaimed happily, ¡°We could never agree on what the automation could do. We kept having it do too many things! Configuring it to move like the soldiers will reduce the risk of it breaking down or catching fire!¡±


    Anthony thought for a moment, before nodding quickly and quietly. The gentleman sat down at his workbench, with the only light source being a small handle of new and old candles. Anthony looked over the gentlemen¡¯s shoulder, his eyes staring at his colleague. Throughout the night, the man worked on the prototype, the workshop echoing the clanks and creaks of his work. With the body finished, the man stood it up on his deck. The prototype, made of leftover pinewood from a stool, resembled a miniature man, complete with an award-winning smile, and hair created from an old, faded brown rag. Inside the miniature were cogs, only seen when the panel on the chest was opened.


    The gentleman began playing with his curls as he looked over the tiny man. Something still didn¡¯t seem right. He looked over at the old rags he had gathered while making the prototype and began to cut them. Before long, he had a small uniform for the miniature, it wasn¡¯t quite the right shade, but it would have to do for now. He kept cutting old rags until he crafted trousers, a small hat, and shoes. Instead of a seashell emblem on the helmet, the gentleman had created a small butterfly instead, just like the ones he saw outside his window on many sleepless nights.  The soldier looked like a pauper, but his makeshift uniform got the job done. The gentlemen rolled up the jacket of the tiny soldier and turned him over. On the back was a small button, once again shaped like a butterfly. He pushed the button, and the miniature hopped to life. It hopped to its feet and gave a salute to its creator.  Anthony stepped back in shock, while the gentlemen smiled and pressed the button again. This time, the soldier marched a short distance across the desk, its footsteps echoing in the room.


    ¡°With this little guy,¡± The gentleman explained, his voice afloat, ¡°We¡¯ll be able to save the lives of countless men from going into battle! No family will ever have to bury their sons, brothers, or husbands, again!¡±


    Anthony looked at the soldier, his eyes tracking its movements like a hawk on a wounded chicken.


    ¡°We¡¯d¡­. make quite a profit with those,¡± Anthony thought aloud, louder than he thought, ¡°We¡¯d never have to worry about paying our rent or about what to do with our lives.¡±


    The young man turned in his chair towards his friend, an expression of concern and confusion on his face.


    ¡°Profit?¡± He asked, ¡°We¡¯re entering this fair to help people, to change the world, Tony.¡±


    ¡°But if we were to win the contest,¡± Anthony replied sharply to his colleague, ¡°We¡¯d get the money anyway. It¡¯s just a¡­bonus if anything.¡±


    The gentleman¡¯s expression soured slightly as he looked at his friend.


    ¡°You know that money is not why I went into this field, Tony,¡± the gentleman continued, slight anger in his tone, ¡°I got into this profession to help improve the lives of those around us.¡±


    Anthony was quiet for a moment, staring blankly at the gentlemen. He did not blink, or make any sudden moves. He resembled a statue found in the palace gardens.


    After a short while, Anthony looked the young gentleman in the eyes. His expression was cold, his eyes intense.


    ¡°Fine¡­,¡± Anthony said, ¡°If that¡¯s how you¡­truly feel.¡±


    The gentleman smiled as he got up from his chair and held out his hand towards the man, whom he considered his closest friend. Anthony looked at his co-worker¡¯s hand for a moment before grabbing onto it and shaking it slowly. After the handshake, the gentleman walked towards the front door of the workshop, grabbing his bag, coat, and hat.


    ¡°Well,¡± the young man said as he began to open the door, ¡°I am glad that we were able to come to an agreement. Not just about our work, but also why we do that work.¡±


    He opened the door, the cold breeze pouring in, his coat blowing behind him.


    ¡°See you tomorrow at the fair,¡± the gentleman said happily, ¡°Let¡¯s hope for the best and I¡¯ll see you at our booth tomorrow¡±


    The man closed the door behind him, as Anthony turned his attention to the soldier, the candles around it slowly burning out. He walked over to the miniature and grabbed it with force, his eyes locked on it. He slowly turned his head towards the blueprints, his name behind his co-worker.


    His blank expression turned into a crooked smile, his thin mouth looking like a crude slash against his face.


    The next morning, the young man had jumped out his bed early and began dressing in his finest suit and shoes. He kissed his mother on the forehead and waved goodbye to his younger sister as he made his way towards the Crystal Palace. The palace sparkled like freshly fallen snow as crowds of people made their way towards the entrance. Parents running after their children, guards helping the elderly into the building, and aspiring scientists wheeling in their wagons to display their inventions.  The gentleman made his way through the crowds and was admitted entry into the side corridor where the other contestants were gathering. As the gentleman walked through the hall, his eyes grew from wonder. He passed by a dark-haired girl and her silver-haired partner at a booth. The tuffs of hair on his head greatly resembled dog ears. The silver-haired man had an ebony-beaded necklace around his neck, while the girl was presenting to the small crowd gathering.


    ¡°This, ladies and gentlemen,¡± the girl began, ¡°is the latest in criminal apprehension technology! Scared of criminals running away onto our beautiful streets? Well, our well-crafted Thief-Nabber will stop any crook in their tracks!¡±


    The silver-haired man proudly displayed his necklace with a smug grin on his face.


    ¡°It¡¯s simple to use for our police,¡± the girl continued, ¡°All they must do is utter one simple command: sit!¡±


    As soon as the command left the girl''s mouth, her partner was dragged onto the floor by his necklace with a thud. The crowd, the gentleman among them, around the booth clapped in amazement as the pair took a deep bow. The gentleman left the crowd, going through the sea of people to the booth he had booked with his friend. When he arrived at the booth, he noticed it was empty. He checked the clock on the wall: 10:07 a:m.  Anthony should have been here already, all setup and ready to go before the members of the Diamond Innovation Society had arrived. He looked around, but Anthony was nowhere to be seen. The gentleman waited another twenty minutes before his heart felt like an anchor, he worried that his friend had overslept. He decided the best way to clear his mind for the time being was to walk around and look at more experiments and inventions.


    He fiddled with his hands as he walked around the room, looking nervously at the contraptions in front of him, from steam-powered bicycles to mechanical elephants designed to water plants. The man began to breathe heavily, sweat began to form on his brows, and his curls seemed to come undone. The man looked up from his feet for a second, stopping dead in his tracks. His breath became fast, his throat felt like it was clamping, the sweat raining from his forehead down his face. There before him was Anthony, dressed in a deep green suit and at a booth made for a single person. Around him were men and women dressed in light purple jackets, a heart-shaped diamond brooch with ruby roses, and an amethyst crown above it. He pressed the button on the miniature solider and the miniature began to march on the table, met with applause from the accomplished and layman members of the audience alike.


    ¡°With the funding to create large-scale models of these miniatures,¡± Anthony explained, a prideful expression on his face, ¡°we will be able to overpower our enemies by equipping these automated soldiers with more firepower than one man would ever be able to carry.¡±


    The crowd cheered as Anthony looked at the gentleman, a sinister smile forming on his narrow lips. The gentleman¡¯s heart sank as he ran to the exit, tears forming in his eyes, his face turning red as he ran through the people. He went to the staircase and sat down, crying into his eyes. As tears poured down his cheeks, his breath was hot and heavy. Many spectators passed by him, paying him no attention. A young woman stood before the man, dressed in a pale pink dress, her oak hair in a bun, a white bonnet, and matching gloves.


    ¡°Are you alright, mister?¡± She asked, her voice sweet and concerned, ¡°Is something the matter?¡±


    The man looked up, his face puffy, and he froze as he met the worried gaze of the young woman before him. She held out her hand, he grabbed it, and she pulled him up carefully. She reached into her small bag and pulled out a blush pink handkerchief.


    ¡°You look like a tomato, mister,¡± The girl said, ¡°Use this to freshen up.¡±


    The gentleman chuckled for the first time all day as he used the handkerchief to wipe away his tears. The handkerchief smelled faintly of rose petals, which happened to be the gentleman¡¯s favorite flower.


    ¡°Roses?¡± The gentleman asked softly.


    ¡°Yes!¡±, the woman asked excitedly, ¡°I dabbed the cloth in some of my favorite perfume.¡±


    The man handed the young lady her handkerchief back, a smile peeking on his face.


    ¡°May I inquire as to what your name is?¡± The gentleman asked.


    ¡°My name is Adelaide,¡± the young woman responded, ¡°Adelaide Tesoro. What about you, mister?¡±


    ¡°My name is¡­¡± The gentleman began before pausing, ¡°Nicolas Collodi.¡±