"We all understand fate...
We dread or anticipate destiny
We have all fallen skeptic to love..."
                                       5/17/08 12:16am

Everyday the sun would rise and set in the little toy shop that humbly sat in the very loud busy town. And at the first noises that came with the sun the clattering shop bells would greet the owner to this world that he adored. This man was not one to explain by looks other than his warmth that was amiable to any soul. Rather, this man was best to be known for his wise old soul that glistened far more than his appearance, so much that every gesture and move the old man manifested felt tender and much like a lullaby. He loved his toys the same and never above another. For one thing he knew was that all were made with the intention of bringing much joy to anyone who needed it. He believed with all his heart that that person would find that one toy.
One day like any other, the shop bells clattered at an entrance. This was normal as one could imagine within the center of the town. But oddly, it was a different noise to that of the shop owner. The footsteps proceeded slowly and rather precautious about the shop. The shoes echoed of that of an older man. This brought the shop owner a surge of joy. He always delighted in helping a father, uncle, or grandfather find a toy for a child they loved.
"May I help you sir?" He asked with the stopped steps. As the old man turned to see the person, he was alarmed that the footsteps were that of a young man. Not just any young man but the richest man in town that lived high on the hill in his tall magnanimous mansion that could cast a shadow on the whole city at the right time of day.
"Yes you most certainly can.", he replied in a very mature voice. "But I'm afraid it's a bit of a difficult request."
"Ask and I shall try." The old man replied soundly. But his approach was much of curiosity.
"I've searched for it for quite sometime with no luck.", the young man trifled worn with weariness.
"Tell me what is it and I will see if I may help." The old man waited to aid to his pursuit.
"True Happiness." The young man spoke these words from his lips like a ringing bell. This truly touched the old man at the sould of longing he carried in those old words. "I have strolled by your shop lately and have seen the laughter and smiles on all that have left your shop. What is it that you give them? I am sure that it is nothing that I do not own, or have better of."
The old shop owner smiled to himself a gesture of a secret he knew. But he was not one to covet and was soon to share.
"Sir, I have toys. A symbol of innocence and love is within each one. That is what gives my visitors a bit of happiness, for they respond to my toys with love and pure joy."
"I must have some!" The young man begged. "I must have this happiness and pure joy you speak of." He searched frantically with his eyes at several toys, drawn closer to the ones that shined with metal and glossed paint. They reminded him of his mansion on the hill. His footsteps clicked and snapped on the floor and the metal toys clanked and clattered to where there was an asunder of chaos in the tiny shop. "Which one will hold my joy?" the young man questioned with much anticipation.
The shop owner grinned and laughed at the silliness that was brought by the commotion and replied back with a sturdy yell to make sure he would be heard. “You will both find each other!”
Just then, the footsteps were silenced below the young man’s feet. He stopped his clattering search and picked up from under his feet something soft. It was a rag doll trapped under his feet. She fell helplessly to the shape of his hand would reply with a light jingle from her tin bell fashioned on her neck.
“I see that you have found each other.” The old man smiled tenderly at the small doll. The young man grew intrigued and captivated by the look upon the old man’s face. It shined far greater than anything he owned. Again the young man held the doll up within his hand. It jingled again as if to greet him. The young man dismissed the pleasantry and continued to scrutinize the little doll.
There was nothing special about her. She was wearing a sewed on handkerchief for a dress and a stitched silk ribbon as hair. Her eyes were shiny black buttons that could of one point held any coat close to a person. If anything, the doll was a mismatch of man common things, and for this the young man felt like he was a fool for such a joke. What happiness could such things bring such a wealthy man? Still he looked at the face of the old man and envied his gaze. It was not a gaze that could be faked, he was truly happy.
“Tell me.” The young man inquired gazing now intently at the doll. “Does she possess magic?”
“I suppose you could say that she does.” The old man smiled. “But her true magic has only begun.”
The shop owner’s words sparked the young man inside. He knew now that in his hands was truly something special. Without a lost moment, he thanked the shop owner and paid the small amount for the rag doll. His spirit soared at the feeling of the little doll in his grasps. For once he felt the eagerness to smile. He began his journey home to his mansion on the hill. It was that very hour when his mansion would cast its very large shadow on the town below giving the feel of an eclipse. It was actually the young man’s favorite time to stare at the town below and remind himself of his success. This time he did not stop, for he was determined to hide inside of his mansion and unlock the secrets of magic the old man spoke of. Onward he pressed, holding the doll near his to him so others might not see. Still he spoke softly with anticipation to the doll.
“Doll of magic, I will take you home to place that is worthy of you. And if you must, there will be servants given to you. They will obey and carry out your every wish. There you may feel safe to shed yourself of your commonness and reveal your true glory.”
He continued explaining with much pride the many great things he possessed to her. Indulged with his thoughts, he did not notice the people of the town scurrying home to hide from the clouds from above, darker than soot. He did not notice the hills beside the town grow dark and dreary because he was accustomed to the shadow that his mansion cast. With his lavish coat, he hardly paid mind to the chill that befallen the town. Rather, he grew memorized by the tone that the doll spoke to him with in the jingles from her tiny tin bell. If only the bells could wake him from his trance, there might have been some hopeful warning.
But it was too late, and the drops began to rush from the skies. Though the young man felt the bitterness of the rain, he grew blind to reason. Without fear he laughed and taunted the skies.
“You do not intimidate me storm! For with me I have true happiness!” He cried clasping the doll maddened by his own delusions. The bell rang timidly amidst the pattering down pour. The doll soaked in the rain weighted with her conviction, one unrecognized by her new master.
They continued their flight to his mansion in the crackling storm without a thought of seeking shelter. Thunder raged and lightning pulsed, still nothing swayed to tear the young man’s pride. The little rag doll rang her bell as loud as she could, she hoped that somewhere within the dim lights that there was a person, with a place that could cover them away. Still there was no avail, and the glow of the passing windows dimmed. The storm grew so dark that even the path beneath them was lost and the mansion, though massive in size, disappeared.
In the bleakness the young man’s delusions continued. He grew weaker, but still onward he pressed. The storm was patient, and continued its reign on the town. For one can only take so much, and the young man’s riches did not excuse him from this truth. Long and hard the young man pressed, with a strength that even impressed the storm.
Until the moment had come and the man grew so weak that he fell within the mud. In the mud the young man’s glory faded. His proud stature had fallen; the lavish wonder of his clothing lost its gleam and faded. It was in the mud that the young man and the little doll both became the same. Both became victims, helpless, and now frightened of the fate that had befallen them.
With the last of his strength he cried out and cursed the doll.
“You have made me a fool that has become as useless and helpless as you! How careless was I to hope that I might find true happiness so easily!” It was then he lay, without any will to continue his journey and he waited for the storm’s ill fate to consume him.
Just then, a magic had befallen them. The little rag doll mustered all her courage and lay next to her new master. Her face turned towards the sky, where the rain spilled like tears down her mud covered face. With all the bit of courage and love stitched within her she gazed up at the storm. Raising it to its fullest point, she let the bell ring by the fall of the rain drops on it. It was twice, but not unsavory, that she pleaded for refuge.
The storm tried to discourage her and raged stronger and harder. Surely this will make her come to her senses that this fate was deserved of her master. The wrath made her misshapen and tore at her seams. Still her courage was relentless and she held her bell high letting its little tin echo cry.
The intentions of the little rag doll were so pure that it even touched the raging storm. He withdrew his clouds and brought his rain to a gentle drizzle. Surely then someone might hear the ring and not be frightened to find them. It wasn’t long until a figure wandered closer and the storm beckoned the rain to stop. The figure pattered across the puddles soon to find the lost. More figures followed, and soon the young man was surrounded by his servants who grew relief at the sight of him being alive.
Inside the servants tended to the young man until he grew his strength back. Through the days of recovery he felt changed and grew curious to this.
At his moments of awakening and before his rest he would pace about his mansion and wonder.
“What has become of me? What have I that had granted me with the grace from the storm?” Until one night in the midst of his trifle the servant that found him had come to him.
“Sir,” she began. “I thought that you might wish to have this. It was the bell from this doll that I heard outside that led me to find you.” In her hands sat the little ragged doll, tattered and stained from the storm and the days outdoors.
Gratefully the young man took the doll, as she fell once more helplessly in his hand. In this moment he smiled, for in his hand was the one that saw value within him and not his riches. It was the one that ended his search for the secret of true happiness.