Author's note: I was supposed to post something for Christmas, but the 'something' is late so I wrote this instead. For normallyiminsane at Tumblr for her wonderful drawing.
I've also created a 'soundtrack' to go with it, if you'd like. You can access it at 8tracksdotcom/chiq909/blah. I won't have it up for long.
Hope you'll like this piece, let me know what you think! Merry Christmas to all. :)
Once upon a time, there was a wood carver named Trick. He once had a lovely family, but lost his wife, his daughter, son-in-law and his granddaughter due to a war. Despondent, he decided to spend his life carving wooden dolls and toys for children in a small town.
His shop was filled with Christmas-like orange lights, and it was the children's favorite place to visit. And whether they bought anything from the shop, Trick always welcomed them, often with tea and sweets. So children all over town would visit Papa Trick's and play with the numerous toys, including animals, musical instruments, little cars and wooden puppets.
One year, when it started snowing, Trick remembered how his little granddaughter loved snow and felt very lonely. He then had an idea for his latest piece - only it wasn't a toy, but a miniature stage with an audience. On the stage he placed a hand-carved ballerina with blond hair and big brown eyes, performing the most elegant fourth arabesque.
He then carved various wooden figures for the audience, which included his friends from a long time ago as well as his granddaughter Isabeau. Trick wasn't satisfied with just a set, so on the next day, he installed a mechanical device that could play music, and added a twirling platform beneath the ballerina.
The set took days to complete, and Papa Trick had no sweets or tea for children who went to his shop then. He then made tiny stalks of flowers and put one in the hand of each audience, and a clever little machine to control their hands. So each time the tune ended, the audience would throw their flowers on the stage, at the feet of the ballerina.
Night fell on the third day when Trick almost finished the set. He longed for a hot supper beside his fireplace, but there was one problem. Little wooden-carved Bo, being a child, did not have the 'strength' to get her flower to the stage. So Trick ignored his growling stomach and carved another Bo - a grown up, beautiful Bo, one he imagined would look had she survived the war.
It was near midnight when Trick placed Bo on her seat, and Trick chuckled to himself, for it was just like Bo to create mischief and trouble. As he recalled his granddaughter's often wayward behavior, he decided to forego the flower and instead, placed a piece of fruit in Bo's hands.
When it was all done, Trick retired to his bed and slept for two days.
And that night, the set came alive.
—-
"Hi, I'm Bo!"
"Yo, Kenzi here."
"I'm Dyson and this is my best friend Hale!"
"I'm Ciara. What do you do, Bo?" Ciara asked.
"I don't know…I like searching for things and solving mysteries, so I can be a detective I guess?"
"I'm a cop then." Dyson straightened and puffed. Hale wanted to be a musician, Kenzi said she wanted to remain 'free', and so it went.
Two days later, the fully rested Trick prepared tea and sweets for the visiting children. The kids gathered around him as he unveiled his latest creation, and looked at the set in awe. Smiling, Trick winded up the music and the children watched, fascinated, at the dancing ballerina and clapped when the audience threw their flowers at the danseuse's feet.
"Oh Papa Trick, do it again! Please, play it again!"
And Trick would oblige every time.
The set attracted the attention of the adults as well, who marvelled at the intricacy, the workmanship and the clever machinery that propelled the audience's arms. Many asked Trick to name a price, but the old toy-maker refused, for he wanted his friends and Isabeau to stay close.
It was the talk of the town for weeks, and every day, the ballerina danced, the audience watched and gave their applause. And every night, when the streets were quiet, when the townfolk was in bed, the shop would be pitch dark – save for a light that appeared over the set.
The figurines talked, ran around, played and sometimes got too loud until Meyer, the rich old man in the front seat yelled at them to be quiet. One day, Dyson started an argument by saying he wanted to be a wolf as well.
"No, you're not! The best you are is a mutt," Tamsin said.
"I can be anything I want to be!"
"No, you can't! So can we then, and I want to be the angel of death where I kill you!"
In the midst of the fight, Kenzi noticed that Bo had been strangely quiet. She looked at her best friend, who wasn't even paying attention to them, but focusing her gaze on the ballerina instead.
"Earth to Bo!" Kenzi called out with her strange slang, which she said was "street speak". "Why do you keep staring at Miss Hoity-totty?"
"She's very pretty," Bo said, without turning. "But she never talks or moves…I wonder what her story is."
And for days, Bo continued to look at the ballerina and cringed every time she had to throw an apple to the stage instead of a flower like everyone else. As much as Kenzi pushed her to speak to the danseuse, Bo declined – until the ballerina cried one night.
Bo finally gathered the courage to climb on to the stage, slowly approaching the ballerina. The gang watched with interest as she waved softly and handed her a handkerchief – one she asked Kenzi to 'borrow' from rich man Meyer's pocket.
"Oh, hello." The danseuse said, surprised.
"Hi. My name's Bo." Bo returned the greeting. "Why are you crying? Are you hurt?"
"Oh, no. I think I'm just a bit tired," the ballerina replied, wiping her cheeks.
"You should rest then. Can you get off this round thing?"
"I've never tried."
"I'll help you." Bo held the ballerina's arms as she tried to walk. They succeeded and Bo led her gently to the edge of the stage, where they sat.
"What's your name?" Bo asked.
"I'm afraid I don't have one," the danseuse said. "Our maker didn't give me one when he created me."
"Mmm…how about Lauren? When he made me, I heard him say I had a friend named Lauren."
"Lauren," the ballerina repeated softly. "It sounds nice."
"Lauren it is then," Bo said with a smile. "I was afraid you were crying because of the apple. I can't help it…I don't know why the maker make me do this."
"That's okay," Lauren replied. "It was unusual at first, but it was a little funny, and the red stands out from all the yellow flowers."
"That's good to know, just…don't eat it," Bo whispered and the ballerina laughed. "I just wanted to tell you…I like your dancing very much. You're beautiful."
"Thank you." Lauren blushed. "So…what do you do?"
And so began the friendship of the detective and the ballerina. Bo introduced Lauren to the gang soon after, but on most nights, she sat on the stage to chat with the danseuse.
"Dyson once said he wanted to be a wolf as well as a cop and nobody agreed." Bo laughed as she recounted the tale to Lauren.
"Hmm…that's an interesting idea though," Lauren said. "If you could be something else, what would you choose?"
"Oh…I haven't really thought about it." Bo tilted her head and pondered. "I don't think there's much I can do. What about you?"
"I'm not sure either," Lauren said, swinging her feet. "I only know how to dance, I'm afraid."
"But you dance beautifully. I, on the other hand, probably have two left feet."
"It's not that hard," Lauren reassured her. "I can teach you, if you'd like?"
"That would be fun, but wouldn't you be tired, having to dance day and night?"
"We don't have to do ballet – I can teach you to waltz. It's one of my favourite dances."
Bo nodded shyly, and much to the chagrin of Lauren's feet, or the pleasure of the gang, the danseuse guided the detective on the stage, step by step, every night.
"Oh Lauren, your poor feet!" Bo lamented, tenderly rubbing Lauren's slightly bruised foot. "I'm so sorry I'm such as ogre!" She heard giggles behind the curtains and shot a glare at the prying eyes.
"It's okay, Bo," Lauren said encouragingly. "You're getting very good at it."
"You really think so?" Bo perked up. "When do you think we can do a full waltz?"
"Soon – even Meyer thinks you're improving." Lauren grinned and nodded at the rich old man who pretended to be asleep.
"Meyer? He's always so grumpy." Bo recalled all the times he yelled at the gang.
"He's harmless," Lauren said. "Now, that witch up there, however, is another story."
"What witch?"
"The one on the top shelf who's always watching us," Lauren whispered. "She's not looking now, so take a quick peek."
"Oh wow, she does look a bit scary." Bo lowered her voice. "How come we haven't noticed her before?"
"You can't see her from your seats," Lauren said. "I see her sometimes, and she's mean to the other toys. Her and that toy that looks a bit like a bat."
"Okay, I'll keep an eye on her. But don't worry, I'll protect you if anything happens," Bo said gallantly.
"Hmm, we'll see," Lauren teased and nudged her gently. "But before that, we have to get your footwork correct."
"Oh, of course!" Bo jumped to her feet and bowed. "Milady, may I have this dance?"
And on they went, step by step, from dawn till dusk.
—-
Christmas was fast approaching, and people from near and far came to Trick's shop for toys. One by one, the wooden toys disappeared from the shelves, and Trick worked hard to make more. Nobody wanted to buy the mean looking witch or bat, however, so they started looking for other toys to torment.
This was bad news for the set, for they had no means to defend themselves. Bo and Lauren had less time to practice as they had to run and hide whenever the witch – now known as The Morrigan – swooped down with her broom. This also made it difficult for Bo to plan her Christmas surprise for Lauren, so she had to ask the gang for their help.
"Can you help me carve a red rose? I'd really like to give Lauren something apart from an apple," Bo asked.
"Sap," Tamsin sneered, "even if we could do it, wouldn't the maker notice the difference?"
"Hey, don't harsh on my bestie's buzz," Kenzi said in her funny 'street speak' again. "In fact, what else do we have to do except for sit on our asses?"
"For one, we have to run from The Morrigan and The Bat, who are treating us like target practice," Ciara warned. "But…." She backtracked when Bo appealed to her with puppy eyes. "I suppose it could be done."
"Thanks!" Bo grabbed Ciara and twirled her around the set.
"Woah, Bo," Ciara laughed. "Slow down! I said we'd try, no promises! But my, you have improved. I imagine it will be a sight when you and Lauren give us a performance."
"Thank ye kindly, ma'am." Bo bowed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to see to a lady for that performance."
With that, she ran off to meet Lauren and the gang started to work on the red rose. Things progressed quite nicely, until one unfortunate day.
"Where's your ballerina?" The Morrigan called out. "I've come to take her with me!"
"Go away!" Dyson yelled from behind the curtains. "What do you want with Lauren anyway? You barely know her!"
"Au contraire, my friend." The witch cackled. "I've been watching her since that old man made this set, and I want her to dance for me on the shelf. This one will be twirling for me forever and ever."
"No!" Bo rushed to the stage. "You're not taking her! I'll fight you for it."
"You?" At this, the witch pointed at Bo and had a hearty laugh. "You little thing? I'll break you into pieces and leave them in a puddle before you say your next word."
"You can try," Bo walked forward.
As soon as The Morrigan stepped off her broom to meet Bo's challenge, the danseuse ran to them.
"Bo, don't!"
"Lauren, go back to the gang," Bo shielded Lauren, keeping her eyes on The Morrigan. "I'll handle this."
Just then, The Bat swooped down in front of Bo, knocking her to the floor. As The Morrigan grabbed the ballerina by her arm and got on her broom, the gang ran to the stage to stop the witch and knocked over The Bat.
At this, Bo ran forward and caught Lauren's leg just before the witch flew off.
"You think that can stop me? We'll see about that!" Already off the stage, the witch started a tug of war with Bo. Just as she was about to lose, Bo gave Lauren's leg a hard yank and the ballerina's arm slipped from The Morrigan's grasp.
Lauren fell on top of Bo and the others rushed to keep The Morrigan and The Bat away. Outnumbered, they flew back to their shelves reluctantly, and Bo checked on Lauren. To her horror, Lauren was missing a leg – the very one that Bo was tugging.
"Find her leg, quick!" Old Meyer said, and the gang scrambled to look for it. Once they did, they tried all the possible ways to reattach it, with Bo reassuring Lauren that they would find a way to fix things. However, as the hours went by, they knew that there was nothing they could do with the broken ballerina.
"Don't panic, Bo," Lauren said, stroking Bo's arm. "The maker will make a new danseuse, and you can dance with her."
"But I don't want another danseuse, Lauren," Bo shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I want you."
"Hey, it's okay," Lauren said. "Thank you for talking to me and for being my friend. It was lonely on the stage, so I really enjoyed my time with you."
"I'm not your friend! Look at me, I've made things worse. I said I'd protect you, but I ended up destroying you…your leg. I'm no better than that witch. I'm a monster."
"Bo!" Lauren reached for her shoulders and gave her a light shake. "Bo, you're not a monster. Whatever happened just then, it wasn't your fault."
Seeing that Bo was about to argue further, she added, "Just give me a hug and stay with me for a little while, okay?"
Bo nodded quietly and held Lauren's hand while the danseuse fell into a deep sleep. She refused to leave her side until the other toys had to pull her away, for the sun was rising.
When Trick came downstairs to the shop that morning, the toys hoped that he would leave the set alone, as he had for the last weeks due to the Christmas rush. But fate had it that the toy maker had to look for something on the display window.
"Hmm. What do we have here?" He picked up the tiny ballerina and looked closely at the 'injury'. Without a word, he took the figurine away with him to his workshop, and only resurfaced when there were visitors, and when he locked the store in the evening.
It was a very quiet night on the set. The gang huddled around Bo, telling her Trick might fix Lauren, and Bo only responded by pointing at the torn off leg. They fell silent, and even Old Meyer and his adopted granddaughter Cassie came to pat Bo on the back, shaking their heads when they left. The Morrigan and The Bat wisely chose to stay away that night, and eventually the figurines returned to their seats long before the sun rose.
The red rose, finished the night The Morrigan visited, stayed in Bo's pocket. For the next few nights, the set no longer lit up at dusk, and the snow-covered street cold and dark.
—-
"Bo, come on, it's Christmas eve tomorrow!" Kenzi pulled Bo's hands. "We miss you – you have to come celebrate with us."
"What's there to celebrate, Kenz?" Bo sighed, rolling the apple in her hands. "Lauren's gone."
"Maybe she'll be back! Maybe the maker will fix her!"
"Her leg is still here, Kenzi," Bo said. "If the maker wanted to, he would have looked around for it."
"Oh," the younger girl said. "Well, if you want to join us, we'll be in our usual spot tomorrow night. We're thinking of asking Old Meyer too."
"Sure, Kenz, I promise I'll think about it." It was as empty as she felt.
The next day, the shop was almost empty of toys, including The Morrigan and The Bat. Tired and stressed out parents went in for last minute gifts, and by nightfall, Trick was almost as tired and stressed out as they were. He brightened at the thought of having supper with a nice lady in town, and went upstairs to wash up.
As he was about to leave the store, he remembered something and went back to his workshop. When he came out, he placed a figurine on the set and patted its head, whistling as he walked through the door.
"Lauren?"
"Bo! I thought I'd never see you again!" The danseuse held Bo's hand, beckoning her to go closer. "Look at my new leg!"
"Wow, Lauren, I thought you were gone for good!" Bo said. "How's your new leg? Does it work as well as the old one?"
Lauren smiled and said, "I have an idea."
And on the night before Christmas, for the first time, the audience stayed in their seats at dusk instead of running around. Once the music started, the detective and the ballerina danced across the stage and performed the most beautiful waltz. Nobody could tell that the detective once had two left feet, or that the danseuse once had her leg broken.
Once they finished the first dance, the audience gave them a standing ovation and as always, threw their flowers at the feet of the dancers. The apple was missing from the pile this time, and Bo presented her red rose to Lauren with a bow.
And on and on they danced, past Christmas, Boxing Day and the New Year.
"Lauren?" Bo asked as they were about to finish one night.
"Yes, Bo?"
"I love you…all."
"All?" Lauren asked, confused.
"Oh. I meant I love you - and all your parts – the old, new, unbroken and whole."
"Why, Bo, I…Bo?" A glimmer of recognition appeared in Lauren's eyes.
"Lauren…?"
The spell breaks.
