Poppy Playtime ~ An Angel's Bleeding Heart

Chapter 1 : Warm Hugs

Waking up with a start, Gabriel Gibbins soon rose from the bed from which he is sleeping in as the alarm ringed in his ears. He looks down to the electric alarm clock on his night stand, five thirty A.M., just as he set it to be. While many people are still sound asleep at this hour, he knows as he slaps the clock to snooze mode that he doesn't have that kind of luxury for now.  Not when there is a field to tend to.

Then after a brisk wash in a hot shower, he ventures down the wooden stairs to the kitchen for a quick breakfast, the wooden floor creaking loudly with each step inside the quiet, empty house.  It was honestly strange to think about how quiet it is, he remembered a time when there was always noise of some kind reverberating through the rooms of this humble farm home.

But now, at the maturing age of twenty seven, all Gabe could hear is himself and the stillness of ear-ringing silence.

Taking a bowl of cold cereal, he then makes his way to the circular dining table, his Bible sitting on the waxed, wooden surface just where he remembered he left it.  The soft white and teal colored curtains brought a somber feeling as the first rays of sunrise shined and filtered through.  Taking his seat, he quickly wolfs down his breakfast as he skimmed over a bible chapter, not wanting to waste time sitting here.  For when he dared to look just to the other side of the table, there sits the object of his worries.  For a week ago he received a package from a anonymous person, but the source was undeniably clear, for labeled on the package's front was the colorful label of the formerly largest of toy manufacturers, his old employment, Playtime.co .

Inside were two items, a VHS tape which played an introduction of the company's first successful toy, the Poppy doll, and a commercial of Playtime.co inviting people on tours through the factory grounds.  But while the tape was a bit strange in of itself, the next item following the tape however shook him to his very core.  A letter, written on notebook paper and drawn with a red crayon, and on it was written three sentences.  Three short sentences that no matter ho hard he tried he could not shake them out of his mind.

The letter urged him to go back, back to the factory from which he worked in.  Gabe was but a teenager at the time he was working there, at the spry age of sixteen.  He was a simple toy assembly worker, his only task was to sit at a conveyor belt and assemble toy parts all day from nine to five, five days a week.  He remembered he didn't like the job too much, it was just a summer job, a way to earn his own money before the rest of the school year kicks in.  But working there had its merits, and even some fond memories.  He made some of his best friends in that factory.  Joyce, Tyler, Freddy, good friends from beyond school.

It was actually a good time.

But then he saw something he shouldn't.  Something he regretted seeing.  Something that made him leave Playtime.co for good.  And just three days after leaving, Playtime.co was suddenly shut down.  And more mysteriously still, all the staff running the factory disappeared.  Including his friends.

The authorities haven't touched on the issue since, and to this day no one knows what happened to the staff nor the tourists visiting.  And anyone who dared to enter the factory and investigate themselves, simply vanished without a trace.

And now, sitting just three feet away from him, is an invitation inviting him to the same factory.

Gabe continued to look at the letter, since he read it he hasn't bothered to move it from its place since he sat it down, and it stayed there for the whole week since.  He knew he could just simply throw it away, burn it in the fireplace and forget about this entirely.  But in all honesty, he couldn't.  He could not in good conscience throw it away.  He doesn't know why, but everyday he has had the unmistakable urge to return, but the common sense forbids him from doing so.  What is the point of going back if there was nothing to return to?