Strings Hold Me Back (Eddsworld AU)

Content

(3rd Person)

The Toymaker. He was of great renown throughout the small town. Bringing joy to children, wonders to travelers, he had a charm that the women loved. He always wore a white button up, top 2 buttons always open with partially rolled up sleeves and a brown vest overtop it. Black trousers with straps that held onto his shoulders snuggly. Goggles rest atop his head as he was always prepared to get to work. He also wore black fingerless gloves, for he got tired of getting calloused hands. A rather handsome fellow. Perhaps the most astounding thing about him is that he created life with his own hands. Yes, the Toymaker was a wondrous man, truly marvelous. Quite the genius. Everyone loved him. Yet behind the perfect image of a man, that attractive smile, there lay a dark secret underneath.

(Tom's POV)

I remain poised in my glass box, careful not to let the customers of the shop notice me too much. It'd be terrible if I made the slightest slip-up. My control bar, strings tied around my wrists and other limbs, stays held up above me, precariously perched on 2 metal hooks. My wooden figure is locked up in a pose for a ballerina. One arm lifted up, softly bent. The other hung lower, still lifted and slightly bent as well. My right leg is crossed in front of the other. Said other leg is bent; as if it was a support for the rest of my body. My head is tilted downward and faces towards my lower arm with a half-lidded gaze. Put together, it should create the image of a flawless dancer.

Soft sunlight flits through the windows; illuminating the dust particles and minuscule wood shavings in the air. It shines on the other toys, making them radiate and glow. I had been placed strategically for the light to shine on all the correct places, letting my polished wood gleam.

Patrons gawk at me, leaning up against my glass and staring with eyes of admiration. I stiffen up inwardly, desperately wishing for the day to end already. Or at the very least, for Tomee Bear to be with me. But of course he would ruin my beautiful display, as my master puts it. I feel more eyes stare me down from behind me, snippets of their conversation reaching my wooden ears.

"It looks so real! Almost alive,"
"I wonder how it stays up? There are no supports to hold it up."
"Mama, look! The wooden man is in a different pose today!"

I let out a breathless and silent sigh, my form becoming so much harder to keep. The oak knobs in the cracks of my segmented fingers I have as joints almost twitch in anxiousness, longing to be stretched and to leave the ballet fingers position they're trapped in. My half-lidded stare threatens to flutter, letting the citizens and visitors be made aware of my life. The customers and admirers continue to watch me; a motionless marionette, smearing their grubby fingers all over my polished glass case. Out of the corner of the empty holes I call eyes, I see the small paper taped onto my case that informs all others about me, the patrons poking and prodding at it. Their breaths exhale on my display, condensing into water vapor before being whisked off into the dry air again. Ew.

"Alright, misses, misters, and children. The shop shall be closing soon, please leave Thomas alone." A familiar, soothing, deep voice cut through the crowd. The Toymaker. Small grumbles and moans of disappointment sound from the many people in the crowd as it finally clears away. My ears pick up another conversation, this time between a regular visitor and none other than the charming Toymaker himself. I watch the scene unfold in front of me.

"You know, I do find it quite amusing when you speak about your little creations, Mr. Duvol." She says with a bit of a laugh.
"Oh? And why is that, my dear? If I may ask, of course." Master asks with a voice sweeter and smoother than honey. He tells me he is obliged to do that, to keep up the 'charmer' image he's molded into, much to his dismay.
"Well...you speak of them as if you speak of your own blood. Almost as if we are bothering them when they are being crowded." She explains, persuaded by Master's tone in his reply.
"Of course! I have spent many sleepless nights to care for and to create them. It would be such a shame if someone were to even jostle the displays." He exclaims with enthusiasm. I scoff internally. A few bitter thoughts filling up my puppet mind, wanting to overflow out of my lips.