Chapter Seven {2/2}
anonymous
May 12 2011, 11:35:43 UTC
It felt like nothing, like a foolish cry, but Woody stopped and looked around the small gathering that they had, the figures hiding half in shadow. Even without looking up, there were enough for him to soften.
“How many of you are there?” he said abruptly.
Barbie swallowed back tears. “About twenty-five. We don’t keep count the way they do outside.”
“Outside?”
“Hundreds.”
The biggest toy box he had ever seen. In stores the toys sat quite and motionless on the shelves, waiting for the touch of a human, waiting for an owner to take them home and play with them. Waiting for life. And here sat hundreds of once-loved, twice-loved, never-loved toys, ownerless. Lost toys. From a pointing accusation, Woody’s hand curled into a fist, and his brow furrowed slightly.
“This should be a place that we can live forever,” he said quietly. He didn’t notice that Barbie lifted one palm to her chest, over where her heart would be; he certainly would not have realised that it was the one with Jessie’s name carved into it.
“We’re toys,” she replied. “Of course we live forever.”
He seemed to realise that they had an audience, the toys gathered round to watch, and Barbie wanted to shrink away and hide as he suddenly spun, raised his arms, spoke up and projected his voice into the whole of the lockdown.
“You stay in here because you think that you’re safe,” he called. “I know that. I understand. I’ve been in attics and cupboards and on shelves. But how long is it since you’ve been held by a child? Since you’ve felt the warmth of their touch and heard their laughter? You-” he pointed to a long plush snake, curled on a low shelf, who huddled back slightly at the picking out “-how long since you slithered through the undergrowth of a child’s imagination, since they made you hiss or move or talk? You-” his other hand picked out a Beanie Baby, a golden brown dog who shifted back with a muffled squeak “-how long since you were a child’s guard dog, or loved pet, confidante? How long since any of you have been toys?”
The light overhead dimmed slightly for a moment, and it caught even Woody off-guard; he glanced up towards the bulb. Barbie had seen lights go out before, but humans had always replaced them; how long had it been since a human had entered this storage cupboard and sent the toys scurrying for cover lest they be found and bought out among the children - and the other toys - again? Then she wondered if Woody’s mad questioning was catching, and gave another little shiver.
“Why do you stay here?” Woody called, recovering himself. He turned from toy to toy, trying to meet their eyes, being thwarted at each attempt. “Why do you hide?”
“It’ss not the children we’re sscared of,” came a reply, finally. Woody turned as the green and black snake whom he had addressed earlier uncoiled itself, dropped down with a light thump to the ground, then raised its head to meet him at eye-height. “You know who it iss.”
“You shouldn’t be scared of her, either,” replied Woody grimly.
The snake rippled in an imitation of a shrug. “Every toy fearss and lovess their owner. Even if their owner forgetss.”
“Then I’ll make her remember,” said Woody, the sheriff’s determination in his eyes. “I’ll make her pay her debts to you all."
Re: Chapter Seven {2/2}
anonymous
May 12 2011, 12:43:13 UTC
Not the OP, but wow, this is chapter is great. And seriously, that last line, honestly, I can see it in my head. Badass, important sounding music should be playing and he should be looking straight at the camera. This is great and I look forward to seeing it resolved.
Re: Chapter Seven {2/2}
anonymous
May 12 2011, 21:09:13 UTC
OP
Sounds like we're getting closer to the "confrontation," as I always call them. Woody is just so in character here, I love it. Can't wait to see what's coming up next!
“How many of you are there?” he said abruptly.
Barbie swallowed back tears. “About twenty-five. We don’t keep count the way they do outside.”
“Outside?”
“Hundreds.”
The biggest toy box he had ever seen. In stores the toys sat quite and motionless on the shelves, waiting for the touch of a human, waiting for an owner to take them home and play with them. Waiting for life. And here sat hundreds of once-loved, twice-loved, never-loved toys, ownerless. Lost toys. From a pointing accusation, Woody’s hand curled into a fist, and his brow furrowed slightly.
“This should be a place that we can live forever,” he said quietly. He didn’t notice that Barbie lifted one palm to her chest, over where her heart would be; he certainly would not have realised that it was the one with Jessie’s name carved into it.
“We’re toys,” she replied. “Of course we live forever.”
He seemed to realise that they had an audience, the toys gathered round to watch, and Barbie wanted to shrink away and hide as he suddenly spun, raised his arms, spoke up and projected his voice into the whole of the lockdown.
“You stay in here because you think that you’re safe,” he called. “I know that. I understand. I’ve been in attics and cupboards and on shelves. But how long is it since you’ve been held by a child? Since you’ve felt the warmth of their touch and heard their laughter? You-” he pointed to a long plush snake, curled on a low shelf, who huddled back slightly at the picking out “-how long since you slithered through the undergrowth of a child’s imagination, since they made you hiss or move or talk? You-” his other hand picked out a Beanie Baby, a golden brown dog who shifted back with a muffled squeak “-how long since you were a child’s guard dog, or loved pet, confidante? How long since any of you have been toys?”
The light overhead dimmed slightly for a moment, and it caught even Woody off-guard; he glanced up towards the bulb. Barbie had seen lights go out before, but humans had always replaced them; how long had it been since a human had entered this storage cupboard and sent the toys scurrying for cover lest they be found and bought out among the children - and the other toys - again? Then she wondered if Woody’s mad questioning was catching, and gave another little shiver.
“Why do you stay here?” Woody called, recovering himself. He turned from toy to toy, trying to meet their eyes, being thwarted at each attempt. “Why do you hide?”
“It’ss not the children we’re sscared of,” came a reply, finally. Woody turned as the green and black snake whom he had addressed earlier uncoiled itself, dropped down with a light thump to the ground, then raised its head to meet him at eye-height. “You know who it iss.”
“You shouldn’t be scared of her, either,” replied Woody grimly.
The snake rippled in an imitation of a shrug. “Every toy fearss and lovess their owner. Even if their owner forgetss.”
“Then I’ll make her remember,” said Woody, the sheriff’s determination in his eyes. “I’ll make her pay her debts to you all."
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(Also, I totally get you on the imagery. I'm a bit of a visual writer myself, if that makes sense.)
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Sounds like we're getting closer to the "confrontation," as I always call them. Woody is just so in character here, I love it. Can't wait to see what's coming up next!
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