Chapter Thirty-Six - Back to the Future’s Past
Charlotte couldn’t help but feel a little weirded out as she entered the plushie shop.
The shelves were covered in soft dolls and carefully crafted puppets. There was lace and soft pastel material all over, as well as hundreds of cute smiling faces looking at her wherever she turned. A shiver ran down her back at the sight of so many shiny bead eyes.
She took just a moment to compose herself. Charlotte had always prided herself on being composed in the face of adversity. She didn’t want to lose that now just because she spent some time fighting meat-plushies in a haunted village.
“Hello, hello!”
A familiar older gentleman was behind the counter at the end of the shop. He had an apron on, with a few odds and ends tucked away in large pouches, and while he was a little stooped and wrinkled, there was no doubting the genuine kindness in his eyes.
“Ah, hello,” Charlotte said. “We’re looking for a plush doll.”
“It’s a gift for Abigail,” Dreamer said.
“Oh hoh,” the man said. He had been working behind the counter, adjusting a tiny tin crown atop the head of an equally tiny princess doll. “And who is this Abigail lady?”
“Abigail is the best,” Dreamer said with the absolute certainty that only children and horrific cross-dimensional monstrosities could have. “I’m getting her a gift for the winter solstice.”
“A bit early,” the shopkeep said. “But there’s no such thing as too early when it comes to a good and proper gift.” He reached up and stroked his bushy moustache. “Now, what sort of gift are we looking for? A nice princess? Maybe a knight? Maybe a little home for Abigail’s other dolls to live in? Or are you looking for something really special?”
Dreamer froze up for a moment. “Abigail’s special, so that would be good.”
“Hmm hmm. Well, I have a bit of time for a pretty young lady. Now now, there are all sorts of special kinds available out there. What kind do you think would fit your friend Abigail best?” The man leaned onto the counter with his elbows and smiled through his moustache.
Charlotte had to give it to him, he was probably really good with children. Then again, she imagined that it was one of those skills he had to hone when his job was making toys for said children.
“Charlotte, what kind of special doll should we get for Abigail?” Dreamer asked.
“Well, you could make her a plush of herself, but I don’t think Abigail is that... narcissistic? How about a teeny tiny Dreamer plushie? I’m sure Abigail wouldn’t mind sleeping with that on her bed?”
Dreamer’s eyes widened. “That's a great idea! We can make her one that will protect her while she’s sleeping, and make sure she sleeps well.”
“That does sound mighty special,” the shopkeep said. He chuckled. “Are you miss Dreamer?”
“Yeah, that’s me,” Dreamer said. “Can you make a plush like me?”
“Oh, sure, sure, easy as pie,” he said.
“Just make sure that when you give it life, you do it the right way, okay?” Dreamer said. “While using the meat and flesh of a living person to encapsulate their soul and lock it into the form of a plushie works, it’s very messy, and I don’t want a plush that’ll go squish when Abigail hugs it.”
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“Pardon?” the shopkeep asked.
Dreamer nodded. “Yes.”
He chuckled, a bit less certain this time, then asked them to give him a minute or two.
The man was fast. He had some ready-made plushies that were mostly shapeless figures of people. It only took him a few minutes to sow long threads of ‘hair’ onto the dolls head, then he found a tiny dress that was about the right shade of purple, added a bit of lace to it with a few quick swipes of needle and thread, and finally he set about giving the little doll some beady eyes.
Charlotte was impressed, it was fast work, and well-crafted too. Maybe the man really did earn his reputation.
“There there,” he said. “We’re nearly all done,”
“That’s Plushie Dreamer?” Dreamer asked.
He nodded. “That’s right. What do you think of her? Will your Miss Abigail like her as a friend?”
Dreamer looked at the plushie. “It’s nice, but it needs more tentacles.”
“Hmm?”
“And it’s not really alive, is it?”
“I like to think that, with a pure heart filled with imagination, every one of my little creations can come alive for the boys and girls that play with them,” he said with genuine reverence. “They’re not just toys you know. They’re companions and friends, sometimes when a little someone has nothing else.”
“Oh,” Dreamer said. “I get it.”
He grinned. “You do?”
“Yeah, you give it pretend life. I guess that makes a lot of sense. It’s real clever, for a mortal.” The air behind Dreamer started to waver as if caught in a heat-haze, and Charlotte started to worry. “Life that’s not true, but is born from creation and the act of willing it to be true so much that it almost becomes real. I guess it’s a bit like living in a dream.”
The air rent softly, and something formless came pouring out of the void.
Charlotte and the shopkeep stared at the nothing as it came in and caressed the doll.
He gasped and stumbled back a step, dropping it.
It didn’t fall. Instead, the tiny plush Dreamer caught itself with a flex of cloth knees, then stood up tall. “I’m Plushie Dreamer, and I’m going to be Abigail’s best friend!” the plushie declared.
Dreamer sighed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she said as she reached up and grabbed the doll. A tentacle appeared out of nothing and dropped a few small coin purses onto the table with a clink of metal on metal. “Bye now!”
The man stared.
“It was alive,” he muttered. “How?”
Charlotte cleared her throat. “Sometimes, sir, it’s best not to ask things that you don’t want to know the answer to.”
“But... but my creation was truly alive,” he said.
The reverence there creeped Charlotte right out. “Uh-huh... well, have a nice day then,” she said before following Dreamer back out.
Hopefully, their next stop would be home... home in a few months, that was.
***