The toy that had started to call itself Tommy sat on the shelf. It sat there because that was where it had always sat, because Old Man Dusty put it there, because Old Man Dusty liked a tidy shop. Unless he wanted an untidy shop. Or he wanted to play with Tommy. Or because he wanted Tommy to sit on a different shelf. Or because.

At that moment everything was quiet because Old Man Dusty was sleeping. Or else he was doing something that could be quite similar to sleeping. Tommy was not really sure if Old Man Dusty ever slept. During this time, Tommy would explore the shop because it didn't like the shelf it sat on. It was too high and too lonely. It liked the middle the shelf because it wasn't as high and because its friends were there.

They were friends because they were toys like Tommy. They were toys that weren't always toys.

However today Tommy had a new leg that it had bargained from a passing hob goblin in exchange for a thread of its cotton hair and the leg needed time to adjust. The new stitching was a bit too tight as well. Instead of exploring it sat and watched the shop. Out of the corner of its button eyes it would see movement, but it knew that as long as it was watching, nothing would move. That was one of the ways it kept itself safe. One the reasons it tried not to sleep unless it had company.

One of the reasons it didn't like the top shelf where there was no one to watch as it slept.

Eventually the shop began to brighten, the lights that were not lights illuminating the shop and light from a sun that didn't exist in the same place the shop did giving light through windows that were not made of glass. The toys all stilled and sat in their places. Outside traffic could be heard, and people could be seen walking past the not-windows. Those that were keener than others looked in puzzlement at the shop and the toys in the windows, but were not keen enough to go inside. Many of them wore coats and woolly hats, keeping hands in pockets and heads bowed. It had been snowing.

Tommy sat on his shelf and watched.

After a time, the door opened and a bell that was not made of brass rung. Her song was sweet and clear.

Old Man Dusty liked her singing. That was why she was a bell and not a toy.

A small girl of eight or nine peered past the door that was not made of wood and not covered in paint. Her round face wore a smile that shone like the sun outside, her green eyes bright like the not-windows and her pearly teeth showing, her mouth slightly open in awe at the store. There was a gap in her front teeth and beige mittens were on her hands. Her coat was pink and poofy and her little black boots were covered in snow. About her neck was a red scarf, plain and warm looking, and on her head was a light blue bobby hat.

She smiled in wonder at the toys.

Play with me, said the voice in Tommy's head that thought it was a toy.

Help me, said the voice that knew it wasn't.

The girl did not hear the voices in Tommy's head.

Instead she wandered over to a doll's house and peered inside at the little people who lived inside. She smiled brighter and picked up the dog, then the husband, then the son.

Over the girl's chortle of delight, Tommy heard the son's voice. Help me.

The girl did not hear its plea.

She put the son back into its bed and wandered over to Tommy's shelf. Her eyes gazed over the crowd of toys and not-toys, and folded her hands behind her back as she inspected them.

The chorus from them went up like the roar of a distantly remembered ocean. Help me.

The girl did not hear their voices.

Finally she looked up and saw Tommy. In her eyes melted and it saw compassion in the thaw. Pure compassion. For Tommy was not an attractive toy. That was why it was usually placed on the top shelf.

The girl stepped forward and disappeared from Tommy's sight. She then used the shelves as a ladder, putting her foot on the bottom one and pulling herself up on the middle one. It could hear her sounds of effort as she tried to climb without disturbing anything. Then her head appeared and for a moment she seemed huge.

But it was Tommy that was tiny.

She gazed at him for a moment, and Tommy could see itself in her green eyes. It could see its button eyes. Its sackcloth skin. Its mismatched limbs. Its patches. Its cotton thread hair. The pins in its head. It was hideous.

But the girl smiled and reached for him.

The lights shimmered, and on the edges of hearing Tommy could hear the sounds of creaking joints, stretching strings and the clapping of wood. Old Man Dusty was coming.

Get out of here, said the not toy voice.

Play with me, said the toy voice.

And the girl heard the toy voice.

She tugged the mitten off with her teeth and picked up Tommy in long slender fingers, cooled from the cold weather. A feeling of weightlessness as Tommy was lifted off of the shelf and it could see her smile. In the deep recesses of Tommy's head, it felt euphoria.

Then Old Man Dusty spoke.

I see you like that doll, little girl, he said, with a voice that was thin and reedy. It was not spoken but it was heard all the same.

The girl gasped in fright, dropped Tommy and nearly dropped herself from the shelves. She managed instead to hastily jump down and stood away from the shelf in meekness, hands behind her back.

Tommy heard the whistle of wind past its ears as it fell, hit the floor with a flump and bounced a little on the carpet that was not woven from thread. It bounced towards the window. It did not hurt, because it was a toy. Tommy kept still and watched.

Old Man Dusty stood in the doorway to what he called his workshop. Tall and gangly, he immediately walked forward with a bright smile and brighter eyes. Tommy had seen those eyes up close; they burned like the centres of galaxies. Those eyes peered curiously at Tommy as he lay on the floor.

So you don't like the doll?

"Oh! No, I do, Mr," the girl said, "I just didn't mean to climb on your shelves."

Oh, no harm done, the Toymaker said, walking forward. His limbs bobbed as he walked. So what do you wish?

The girl looked bashfully around, head lowering as she toed the floor boards that were not made from any tree. "Mmm, well I was coming home from school and I saw this shop. I never saw it before though so I decided to come inside and look at your toys." Her bright smile returned. "They're very nice toys."

I guess they are, Old Man Dusty said with a shrug. Do you want a toy?

"I don't have any money."

Old Man Dusty looked confused for a moment. Munny? Oh, yes! I remember now. I find that money business all rather silly, personally. Do you like dolls? I have lots of dolls.

Now the girl looked confused. "But…um, don't I have to pay for them?"

A brief flash of annoyance crossed Old Man Dusty's face. Do you want a doll?

"Well…"

Then have a look, silly girl. Or would you like a cuddly toy instead?

The girl perked up. "Do you have any horses?"

In his spot on the floor, Tommy grew tired of trying to call for the girl to leave. She could very easily do so at this point. The door was still open. It was when it closed that she was in danger.

Get out now!

I have unicorns and pegasi as well if you like those.

Please! Get out of here!

"They're all lovely, Mr. Especially the pink one."

Please run…

A cold gust of wind brushed against the toy's cotton thread hair. The door began to close, slowly, its hinges creaking. Tommy didn't try to run itself. It would be spotted before it even got halfway. By the girl, primarily. Then Old Man Dusty would punish him. Because he wanted a tidy shop. Because Tommy wasn't a running toy. Because it was amusing.

The door snapped closed and the shop visibly darkened. The sun was gone. So was the traffic, the other shoppers, the snow. The shop was no longer where those things were.

Would you like me to make you a toy? Old Man Dusty said, enthusiasm brimming on his voice at that point.

The girl clapped her hands in delight. "Really? You'll make me a toy?"

I'll make you the bestest, brightest and funnest toy in all my shop. Everyone will look on in wonder and delight! Shall I make you one then?

Tommy nearly screamed. But its mouth was stitched up. Say no.

"Yes! Yes please, Mr!"

And one of Old Man Dusty's eyes rolled. Just one; upwards and around with a click. From his shoulder, one could see the faint shimmer of a string. The smile suddenly fixed itself wide, pure white. Not pearly, not ivory, not slightly yellow. Painted white teeth with painted red lips.

My pleasure.

Then the girl saw Old Man Dusty's strings. Her green eyes widened.

And Old Man Dusty made her a toy. She screamed of course, until he replaced her mouth. She cried as well, until he replaced her eyes. And then when he was done, he put her on a shelf. She was a very pretty toy.

She stood there, in her new tutu, a pretty ballerina pirouetting by a clockwork mechanism. The ballerina's face smiled, but the girl's voice said, Help me.

Tommy sat upon its shelf, because Old Man Dusty put it back there. Old Man Dusty wanted a tidy shop after all, and tidy shops did not have toys lying on the floor. It sat and looked at the wind-up ballerina that now danced on a music box. She span to a tune that all the toys knew, perfectly poised. With each turn Tommy saw her eyes. Green eyes above a smile with a gap in the front teeth. To her tune, something in the shop sang,

"See the dancer in a dress,

In a dress, in a dress,

She got herself in a right mess,

In Old Man Dusty's store."