Toyland- the Legacy of Wallace Noel
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Piggy and Clyde, however, came home.
Sometimes, at night, Tin would hear Corey talking to him when he thought no one was around, confessing or talking about Brenda. He even called him Clyde. Tin never said anything.
Piggy slept with her. She would be her companion until she went to college. But when she came home for the summer, she would be waiting for her on the pillow. She never hugged her back, not like before, but the world always felt a little safer when she was around.
Sometimes she just needed to be reminded.
In time, Tin started to doubt what had happened. After a while, she reasoned that the entire thing was most likely a dream. No one else remembered it, either. She was feverish that Christmas, and maybe had a touch of something wild and wonderful. Just the dream of Awnty Awnie was worth it.
But she never saw the drone photo.
Her mom printed it. They returned to Toyland every Christmas and sometimes for the summer for years to come, but Mom never put it on the wall with the other photos.
If she did, Tin would’ve remembered.
They were at the tower, the five of them looking up and the toys all around. Maybe her mom knew Awnty Awnie’s secrets all along, or she believed her stories. That was why she didn’t put it up.
It was always a little strange how her mom accepted that Christmas so easily. Even if she didn’t have the imagination to see it except in the photo where Pip, Tin, Corey, Oscar and Mom were looking up and waving at the drone.
And the toys were, too.
Epilogue
I hear a song that I know.
It’s the one about the reindeer. Or is it the one about the sleigh? It’s been so long since I’ve heard a song. It has that feeling, though. And there’s no mistaking the evergreen smell and bubbling laughter, the ripping of wrapping paper and shuffling of boxes. Even in the dark, I know what this is.
My favorite time of year.
A child’s joy, the merriment, the goodwill… it never gets old. I live for these moments. I was made for them.
You’re probably wondering what happened to Pando. Rumor has it, he’s on the North Pole. Toys talk, you know. Word spreads. And the legend of Wallace Noel is and always has been one of the biggest stories told throughout toys in the last century.
He found the toymaker’s hat and used it.
Pando, it’s told, took the metal ball that was now Wallace Noel up to the North Pole. It’s hard to believe, I’m sure. But you don’t wear an authentic elven hat like that without some permanent effects to your biochemistry. He created quite a mess and a bit of trouble, but nothing that a toy couldn’t fix.
Wallace wasn’t the toymaker. No, the toymaker is still a mystery, the last I heard. Pando was right about one thing, though: the hat will find the toymaker when it’s time.
How did Wallace get a free pass to live with the elven and ride in a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer? I wouldn’t exactly call it free. He paid a price. He lost his body, for one. Living in a metal ball has its advantages, I guess, but, from the toy scuttlebutt I hear, he’d rather be in flesh and bone. He is human, after all. But now he’s a snowman. There’s a bunch of them up there.
He’ll figure it out.
But let’s be honest, he knew too much. I mean, the hat told him everything—the secrets of the North Pole, the technology of the elven. He had already made a mess. Santa wasn’t going to let him stay at Toyland. It’s not exactly a happily ever after for him, but it could’ve been worse.
Much, much.
Pando’s search for the toymaker wasn’t fruitless. He never found him, of course, but he was something more than a toy. I don’t know exactly what he is, but he’s the best toy that ever lived.
As far as I’m concerned.
Pando visits Toyland every year. The fat man drops him off and picks him up. What a toy, right? Makes me proud.
Oh, and Gingerman? That’s a story for another time.
Right now, my favorite morning has arrived. I can feel the box jostle and hear the paper ripping. The voices out there. I don’t recognize them. This is exciting. Then comes the slice of light; the box is pulled open. Colored lights blink.
“What is it, Annabelle?” someone says.
That’s when the face looks down at me. Her eyes are big and brown. There’s a cute barrette holding her hair back. Her pacifier looks like a candy cane. It’s darling, really.
Big, adult hands reach for me and then the world is all around—the Christmas tree, wrapping paper and plates of half-eaten cookies.
“Look how long his arms are,” someone says. “And look, his hands stick together.”
I don’t recognize the adult. I’d remember her even if it was a long time ago. She slaps my Velcro hands together and loops me around Annabelle’s neck. She bounces and smiles. The pacifier falls out when she giggles and then—I swear, this is my favorite part—she hugs me.
That’s right.
Our true purpose is not to entertain or distract. We’re not meant to give a child social status or fill emotional holes. It’s to be there when the nights are darkest, when the days are rainy. When you need a friend. We’re here to remind you that you matter.
We’re the true meaning of Christmas.
“Do you know who gave him to you?” Annabelle’s mom says.
And then someone picks us up and hikes Annabelle in the crook of her arm. It’s not the mom, but her I recognize. She’s older. Much, much older. Her hair is short and gray. Her glasses are giant circles. There’s a chain around her neck and a pendant dangling from it.
“His name is Monkeybrain,” Annabelle’s mom says. “Isn’t that funny? Can you say thank you?”
Annabelle pulls out the pacifier. “Thank you, Awnty Tinny.”
And then, yes, my favorite part again, the hug. And then Great-aunt Tinny with her big round glasses and short gray hair puts us down, but not before she picks me up, just me, and gives me one last hug.
“Take care of her,” she whispers.
LAST PART
NORTH POLE – Pharis Targeenis, 43, guided his 100th expedition to the North Pole. An expert adventurer, Targeenis is known for guiding trekkers into the great white north for the past decade. This past trip, however, was like no other.
He was separated from his party.
“The weather was unexpected,” Targeenis said. “Visibility was zero.”
Targeenis fell through an open lead and nearly drowned in the icy water of the Arctic Ocean. He shouldn’t have survived.
“Someone grabbed me,” Targeenis said. “Plain and simple. I thought maybe it was a polar bear. I was wet and, in those conditions, really only had a couple of minutes left.”
But it wasn’t a bear that pulled him out. Targeenis is reluctant to tell his story. He’s aware that hallucinations are quite common in near-death situations. However, he’s certain what he saw.
“It was a man,” Targeenis said. “He was short and fat, with a very long and bushy beard. I mean, he wasn’t wearing a red coat or anything like that, but he was unusual. The whole thing was.”
Targeenis’s party found him the next day cocooned in an insulated wrap. It wasn’t part of the gear anyone had packed, but it saved his life.
No evidence supports his claims. And Targeenis is the first to exclaim how strange it all sounds.
“He was wearing a T-shirt with suspenders,” he said. “With two moles over his eye.”
Any information regarding someone who matches this description, contact the local authorities.
What To Read Next?
So many Christmas stories you never heard.
Santa, Scrooge, reindeer, snowmen, the miser, toys… you don’t have to read them in order. They are stand-alone novels with plenty of crossover.
Start a new holiday tradition.
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CAUSE!
By purchasing this book, you have donated 10% of the profits is annually donated to Toys for Tots, a non-profit organization is to deliver, through a new toy at Christmas, a message of hope to less fortunate youngsters.
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