It was a cold winter night in Signia, and McKinly’s Toy Shop was closed down and boarded up. The wind howled as it raced passed the trees; their desperate leaves surfing atop the breeze like restless fairies. Everything in the town seemed quiet and abandoned as it always did on nights like these. The liveliest place in the town was probably Sherrel’s Bar, which was about two blocks down from Empty Souls Lake, and always filled with twenty or thirty drunk men yelling about their ‘oh so’ pathetic lives. Near by, a few cows hustled through the whipping grass as they tried to find somewhere to hide safely and soundly till the sun shined warmth. And in the shallow light of a flickering candle, McKinly’s newest invention, the ‘Music Man’ toy, was standing lifelessly over a few sketched out blueprints that sat upon McKinly’s thick wooden desk in the corner of his workshop.

With a sudden twitch, the tin figure’s eyes shot open, a look of shock and exasperation spread across his face. He quickly began turning his head from side to side, searching the dark room for something that would spark recognition. Clueless as he was, he seemed to understand his existence, or at least that he DID in fact exist. Other than that he did not understand much at all, and questioned deeply why he had just been brought to life. His thin bony like fingers reached out for an answer that wasn’t there, and then shrunk back to his sides with a flash as a huge thud escaped from his chest. He looked down, entranced by the sound he had just heard. Poking and prodding himself, he could not seem to find the source of the noise. Curiously, he stepped forward with his left leg, slowly inching along the side of an ever seemingly large ruler that sat next to him on the desk. As soon as he made a move, a sound like a shrieking duck came out of his back and he quickly spun his head around to see what had just yelled. A large silver tuba sat upon his back like a boulder, leaning against him as if he were the mountain that supported it. His eyes spun in circles and he turned his head back around, looking down at his chest once more. Moving his right hand forward, he watched, as it followed a designed circular path and beat down so robotically on the drum that was strapped to his body.

Everything he saw seemed to make less and less sense, and he soon decided that he must be dreaming, if there ever was such a thing. He closed his eyes and squeezed them tightly, but when he opened them everything was indeed the same. The tin man stomped his foot and clenched his fist in a sort of protest, but it didn’t last long as he did not know what or whom he was protesting to. There wasn’t anyone else there. No one could help him, and no one could explain it to him. He then felt very lost within himself and wondered in fact if there were other beings out there, like him or not, that he could interact with.

Out of nowhere, a marble rolled up from behind him and smacked into the back of his right leg. He turned around, listening to the distinct sounds of the tuba and the drum as he did so. He heard some sort of rhythmic connection between the two and decided to like it, for the melody almost made him smile. Nervously, he stared down at the round, clear object; paralyzed by the spiraling colors that ran about inside it. He looked up and into the darkness. He wanted to call out to whoever might be there, but new not a way to do so. His body tensed slightly and stood there awkwardly as he frantically moved his body forward. Fragile were his joints and so moved at a slow speed, but not soon after he began his journey, he met up with the edge of the desk.

As he peered down into the dark oblivion his skeleton began to shake, and with a slight crack to his left leg he started to wobble. He gazed in amazement as several brightly colored toys emerged from under different crevices. His eyes widened as his mind began to ponder everything he was seeing. One toy in particular caught his eye, it was a girl dressed up in many pink frills and tight stockings. Her feet wore two perfectly crafted dancing shoes, and her smile, though frozen on her face, let off an aura of happiness. Though he was not near her, he could smell her sugar plum scent and breathed in a whiff as he closed his eyes and imagined her dancing. When he opened his eyes, the ballerina girl had disappeared behind some of the other toys, and his soul quickly sank to his shoes as he felt a sense of longing for her.