The night air swept the trash in swirls of echoing quietness down the empty back street, passed the little shop. Rotted wood creaked hello as it went by. The front window was filthy with neglect. Not even the slightest passerby was curious enough to peek through. The door to the shop, locked long ago, couldn’t even beckon thieves. A ‘Closed’ sign hung there without moving for years. Another gust of wind gently patted the sign above the door.
The dust in the shop had settled long ago, though some still floated through the air caught in the little bit of moonlight that shown through the grimy window. The shelves still held the love of the owner’s heart, though he’d long since gone. Red headed dolls in yellow dresses, blonde headed dolls in pink gowns, little boy dolls in school uniforms and sailor outfits. All kinds of dolls huddled together covered with the layers of dust, no one around to see their beauty anymore. They just sat there staring into the darkened shop.
The wax of a candle splayed out over the work bench almost holding his hand, the poor little boy doll that couldn’t join his friends. Brown hair and two blue eyes, his little nose and half a painted smile decorated his face. A knitted little sweater and some blue jean pants were marked by the line from the paint brush. There was nothing he could do that night he watched his father never wake up again. The curses he would have yelled at letting the brush slip as he fell into an endless sleep. Instead, his newest son would forever stare at his rotting corpse as he sat there in the little shop that was trapped in time.
