Mr. Templeton's Toyshop: Prose Poems and Short Fiction Read online

  Mr. Templeton's Toyshop: Prose Poems and Short Fiction

  Thomas Wiloch

  Mr. Templeton's Toyshop

  Thomas Wiloch

  Thomas Wiloch's Grimoire lasted six issues, offering "nihilistic pablum for a mediocre society." Despite its short life it made an impact and won't soon be forgotten. His own prose miniatures have graced the Ace Books anthology Elsewhere (World Fantasy Award winner) and many small journals of surrealism and horror. His collection Stigmata Junction (prose poems and collages) was issued by Stride in Cheshire, England, with a second collection pending. Portions of "Mr. Templeton's Toyshop" appeared in All the Devils are Here edited by David Deyo, Jr., a landmark anthology from the Unnamable Press folks, who started out as a letterpress publisher of macabre poetry.

  The Porcelain Doll

  Mr. Templeton's toyshop is quite unique. He has glass animals, lead soldiers, and wooden ships. There are paper kites, crystal rings, marbles, and music boxes. And high on a shelf is the beautiful Alice, a porcelain doll so dainty and lifelike as to rival even the little girls in the village. The old woman buys Alice. "It will be a gift for my granddaughter," she explains. "I'm sure she will enjoy it," Mr. Templeton says politely. He carefully wraps the doll and takes the money she hands him. It is late and he is closing shop and she is the last to leave. They say goodnight and Mr. Templeton closes the door behind her. As she walks home in the darkness, the woman fancies a movement in the package she carries. There seems to be a wriggling. She is surprised when a tiny hand pokes out of the paper. She is even more surprised when the hand pushes a little knife into her throat. She can only gurgle incoherently as she falls. Later, we see Mr. Templeton in his toyshop window. His eyes are gleaming with expectation. Soon he spies his little Alice strutting down the moonlit street, a bloodstained pocketbook in one hand, and a gleaming knife in the other.

  The Kaleidoscope

  Mr. Templeton holds the kaleidoscope to the young boy's eye. "Look in here," he says. The boy peeks inside the little cardboard tube while Mr. Templeton twists the other end. "See the colors?" Mr. Templeton says. "Oh, yes," says the boy. "What pretty patterns it makes!" Mr. Templeton smiles. Then he twists the kaleidoscope the other way. The boy's mouth opens wide, he inhales, and then he screams. "There we are," says Mr. Templeton, pulling the kaleidoscope from the child's bloody socket. "Now let's get the other eye." Later, a woman comes to the toyshop to buy a stuffed bear for her nephew. "That one is perfect," she says, pointing out a particular bear. "It has the prettiest blue eyes, just like my little nephew Randy." Mr. Templeton raises his eyebrows, a ' trifle surprised. "I believe I've met your Randy," he tells her.

  The Music Box

  He buys a music box at Mr. Templeton's toyshop. It is carved of dark oak and has hinges of brass. "It will play the Salzbach waltz," says Mr. Templeton, "when I set the mechanism." He is sure she will like it. "Please deliver it today," he says, and Mr. Templeton nods sagely. Later, she opens the package the deliveryman has brought. "A music box," she cries. It is so very beautiful. She reads the card he has enclosed and she smiles. How sweet. Wanting to hear the song the box plays, she lifts the lid. A melody begins. A soft and lilting melody. She finds herself dancing. It is a most compelling tune. That night he stops by to see how she likes his gift. He knocks on the door. He knocks again. He opens the door and enters her room. She is crumpled on the floor, gasping and holding her heart. Her feet kick back and forth, scraping the wooden floor in time with the tinkling melody. "My dear!" he cries, rushing forward. But he cannot reach her. He cannot bend down to help her. Instead, he finds himself dancing...

  The Toy Boat

  Mr. Templeton hands the toy boat to the boy at the counter. Its white sails glow in the darkness of the musty toyshop and its single red running light shines like a malignant eye. The boy gapes at this treasure, which, after long weeks of saving, is finally his alone. "Enjoy your boat!" says Mr. Templeton as the boy leaves the shop. "I will!" the boy calls back. "Right away!" Mr. Templeton smiles. The boy gathers some friends together and, amid a flurry of excited voices, the children hurry to the river. There, the boy places his boat into the water and, majestically, it drifts away. The children jump and shout and run along the shore, following the craft. Suddenly, a change comes over the boat. The white sails swell, the wooden frame widens, and the masts sprout from twig size to poles. The boat is growing. And presently there is a sailing ship before their startled, delighted eyes. The ship comes to a halt. A gangplank is lowered. The children scramble aboard. They have never been on a ship before. Some climb the rigging, others examine the cannon, and still others spin the great wheel that steers the ship. Behind them the gangplank is quietly hoisted. Then, magically, the ship seems to vibrate. It grows less clear; its image blurred and smaller. In a moment it is gone. There is only empty space. Space, and a small toy boat bumping against the rocks of the shore. We see Mr. Templeton approach and pluck the boat from the water. Later, in the silence of his dark study, Mr. Templeton sits at his desk. The toy boat has been placed before him while he holds one of the children in a pair of tweezers. With his free hand, he carefully pulls at the child's tiny fingers. The child raises quite a fuss as, one by one, Mr. Templeton removes the fingers and places them in a neat row upon a sheet of white paper. The noise is really more than Mr.

  Templeton can stand. Why must children be so loud? This was to be, he had hoped, a quiet evening of scientific study. He puts an end to the child's complaints with a well-placed pin.

  The Figurines

  The figurines on the glass shelf are delicately fashioned. "Even the eyelashes are perfect," the woman says. Mr. Templeton smiles proudly. "However do you carve them so?" she asks, examining a little man dressed in a business suit. She unbuttons the man's coat and a tiny label displays the manufacturer's name. "These figures are not carved," Mr. Templeton explains. "Come here, I'll show you." He leads her into the back of the store. Lifting a cloth, he reveals a metal birdcage. Inside the cage is a crowd of tiny people, each three inches tall. "A simple hypodermic injection," Mr. Templeton says. "I do a bit of experimenting as a hobby." He opens a trapdoor on the top of the cage and, reaching in with a pair of tongs, he lifts out a small woman. The woman kicks her legs and swings her arms and the sounds she makes are like squeaky shoes. "I will show you how it is done," Mr. Templeton says. He places the small woman in a glass jar, and then he sprays a mist at her from a squeeze bottle. The woman coughs, twitches, and then is stiff. She stands impossibly still, staring. Mrs. Templeton picks her up and hands her to his customer. "Here you are," he says. "Isn't it lovely?" The woman gasps and drops the figurine on the floor. It shatters like a teacup. "Oh my," says Mr. Templeton. "A most unfortunate accident. I'm afraid you will have to replace that for me." The nervous woman reaches into her purse. "Oh no," says Mr. Templeton, grabbing the woman's arm and poking her-with a hypodermic, "that is not what I meant at all."

  The Magnifying Glass

  The shelf of magnifying glasses has attracted the man's attention. "I'm looking for a toy for my son. Something mentally stimulating," he says. "Try this one," says Mr.

  Templeton, handing him a large magnifying glass with a black handle. "Go stand by the window so you get the best light." The man walks to the window and peers through the magnifying glass, examining his hand. "This is a good lens," he tells Mr. Templeton. "I can see the pores of my hand perfectly." "That's an amazing lens," Mr. Templeton agrees. The man shifts the glass to investigate the pattern on his tie, but there is something abnormal. The hand he has just been looking at has changed. It has enlarged and grown warped, as if the distortion of the magni
fying glass has taken hold and set. "Oh my god," says the man. His torso feels odd. He has been holding the lens to his tie and now his chest, too, has expanded strangely. As he frantically drops the magnifying glass, it slides against his leg, distorting it so that the misshapen limb can no longer support him. He falls. "What's going on?" the man says to Mr. Templeton, who comes around the counter and carefully picks up the magnifying glass. 'I have been doing some experiments with this glass," Mr. Templeton explains. "It only does this in sunlight." He stoops over the frightened man and holds the lens to his panicked face. "Now," says Mr. Templeton, "let's see what this glass can really do."

  The Slide Projector

  Mr. Templeton shows the new slide projector his toyshop is selling. "It comes with this box of pretty slides," he explains. The man nods his head. "Is it reliable?" he asks Mr. Templeton. "I don't want it to break right away. My Gloria would be so brokenhearted." "It's very dependable," says Mr. Templeton. "No one has ever complained to me about it." That satisfies the man. Later, a little girl sits on the rug while her father sets up the projector. "We will show the pictures on this wall, Gloria," he says. The little girl claps her hands and laughs. "You shouldn't have spent so much," his wife reproaches him quietly. He waves a hand. "She'll like it," he says. "And it wasn't that much." His wife shuts off the lamp and the projector lights the wall. He clicks a switch and a slide moves into place. A picture of a lion. "Oh, look at that, dear," says the woman. Gloria giggles and points. The picture wobbles. "Must be something wrong with the slide," the man says, squinting inside the projector. The picture wobbles again. Then the lion blinks his eyes, paws at the ground, and roars. "Is this a moving picture?" his wife asks. He is about to say no when the lion leaps off the wall and quiets him forever with a swipe of his huge paw. The man's face gleams in bright red lines for a moment before he falls, knocking over the projector and plunging the room into chaotic darkness. Later that night we see Mr. Templeton walking through the dim light towards his shop, carrying a projector under his arm and leading a large animal on a rope. "And how was little Gloria?" he asks the animal as they stroll along.

  The Tea Set

  "Look what I bought you at Mr. Templeton's," he says. The little girl opens the box and then gives a squeal of delight. "A tea set!" she says. "Oh, thank you, daddy!" He smiles at her. "Now you go play with that, dear, but be careful you don't break anything." She hurries off to her room. Soon there is a little party going on. A teddy bear and a doll sit solemnly at a table with plates and teacups before them. "Drink up," she tells her guests, pouring out water from the teapot. "This is good tea." She holds a teacup to the teddy bear's lips and then to the doll's lips, too. "There, wasn't that good?" she says. Then she takes a sip of the water from her own teacup. Later, her father enters the room. The teddy bear and doll sit quietly, their arms and legs at stiff angles. "Having fun?" he asks. The girl does not reply. She sits staring at her two companions. "Dear?" he says, walking over to her. "What's wrong?" Her face is a smooth mask, shiny as the china teacup she holds in her hand. Her eyes are white and vacant, looking at the air. He reaches for her hand. It is stiff and glasslike. With a snap, it falls off. There is a tinkling sound as it hits the floor and shatters into a sprinkling of white fragments. Then there is the sound a man makes when he is trying to destroy the world with a single, wailing scream.

  The Aquarium

  "It is time to feed the fish," Mr. Templeton says to the group of children who have come into his toyshop. "Would you like to watch?" "Yes," they all say, and so Mr. Templeton leads the children to a corner of his shop where the lights of an aquarium twinkle in the shadows. The children gather round the glass tank and whisper among themselves about the strange bulgy-eyed fish that bump against each other in the crowded water, the streams of bubbles released by shiny silver tubes, and the landscape of colored stones and green plants at the bottom of the aquarium. Mr. Templeton brings out a cardboard box from which he takes a piece of dried grayish material rather surprisingly shaped like a human hand. He reaches over the edge of the aquarium and drops it in the water. Instantly the fish dart for the food and, in a frenzy of bubbles and foam, which makes the children ooh and aah, they eat the meat. After a moment the water clears and the food is gone. "Gosh, Mr. Templeton," says one little boy. "Can I help you feed the fish?" "Tomorrow," says Mr. Templeton, smiling. "Come here tomorrow and you can feed the fish." The next day, the boy arrives at the toyshop in the late afternoon. "There you are," says Mr. Templeton. "Those fish are hungry, so let's get to work." They go to the aquarium in the back of the store and Mr. Templeton arranges a short wooden stepladder for the boy to stand on. "Is this how you do it?" the boy says, leaning over the tank with the food Mr. Templeton has given him. "A little farther," says Mr. Templeton. "Here, I'll help you." He holds the boy by the waist, lifts him, and tips him over into the water headfirst. There is a moment of bubbling noise as the boy, his face lit by the light of the aquarium, struggles to speak under water. Then the fish turn and dart and his face is no longer seen. Carefully, Mr. Templeton lowers the boy into the furiously thrashing water until, after much splashing and noise, the boy is in. After a time the tank water grows calm, the frothing ebbs away, and the fish swim as languidly as they did before in the silent, strangely lit water. It was a week later when a nervous woman came to the toyshop to speak with Mr. Templeton. "It's about my little boy," she says.

  "He has been missing for several days and I don't know what to do. I've heard from the children that he was supposed to be working for you a few days ago. Do you know where he might have gone?" "Your boy fed my fish," says Mr. Templeton, motioning to the aquarium, "and that's the last I've seen of him."

  The Halloween Candy

  Halloween is Mr. Templeton's favorite holiday. He stands in the doorway of his little toyshop and gives candy to the neighborhood children who come begging. One little girl is dressed as a bear. "Is that what you really want to be?" asks Mr. Templeton. "Grrrr!" the little girl says through the hole in her mask. Mr. Templeton chuckles and hands her a piece of candy. Other children come, display their gaudy costumes, and take the candy Mr. Templeton offers. "Is that what you really want to be?" he asks each child in turn. "Oh yes," say the werewolf, the snake, and the gorilla. "Oh yes," say the dinosaur, the vampire, and the crocodile. And to each of the children Mr. Templeton gives his candy. Late that night, Mr. Templeton is awakened by screams. He opens his bedroom shutter and looks down into the narrow street below. Small, colorful figures are roaming in the dim light, some snarling, others hissing or howling. Two of the figures pull open the door of a house down the way and all of them clamber inside. A few moments later there are more screams. Screams cut short. And then the strange little creatures bustle out into the street again, licking some sort of dark liquid from their faces and hands. "Mr. Templeton!" a voice calls from down below. He leans out and sees a woman at his toyshop door. "Mr. Templeton, please let me in! Please!" From up the street the bothersome creatures are drawing closer. The woman pounds on the specially reinforced metal doors, which guard the toyshop. "I open in the morning," Mr. Templeton calls down to her. "Come back then." He secures the shutters, muffling the last of the woman's hysterical pleas. Later, there are still more screams outside. Then the padding of many little feet on the cobblestones, drifting away, finally, into the night.

  FB2 document info

  Document ID: 9fe7ab59-2959-4439-939d-8e961f0f3017

  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 1.4.2012

  Created using: calibre 0.8.10 software

  Document authors :

  Thomas Wiloch

  About

  This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.

  (This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)

  Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.

 
(Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)

  http://www.fb2epub.net

  https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/

 

 

  Thomas Wiloch, Mr. Templeton's Toyshop: Prose Poems and Short Fiction

  Thanks for reading the books on GrayCity.Net