Once upon a time there was a toymaker. This toymaker was obsessed with making and creating puppets, fascinated by the connected strings that made the limbs of the toy move, lifelike and merry or sad and depressed, whatever you choose. After many failed attempts at making the perfect puppet, one came out successful. A little wooden hedgehog, painted with midnight black and bright red, a little white placed upon his chest. A smile was put on his face and little white and red shoes. A masterpiece, in itself.

The puppet was then given as a gift to the toymaker's granddaughter, who loved the little hedgehog so very much. But as the girl got older, the toymaker realized that what he had made was only in the corner, gathering dust. By this time, he had sharpened his skills and opened up a toy shop, and so he took the puppet and put it up for sale at a fairly cheap price.

Little did he know, this little hedgehog would have quite an adventure in front of him… this is his story.

Handmade in Ireland,

From trees that grew in county carry,

I'm just a puppet,

But described as strong, but ordinary…

Another day on the shelf. I sit upon the highest ledge, above the counter, and each and every day hoping to be seen and admired, to be bought and go home with someone. A child, puppeteer, anyone. They all came in once in awhile. My legs dangle off the shelf I'm sitting on, still at the two thin planks connected to my strings was sitting beside me, covered slightly with a blanket of dust.

All handmade,

Not that many things these days are,

Handmade~

The store has been open for three hours now, and no one has come in. Less and less people come in each day, not so much interested in dolls and toys now these years. A few, occasional collectors come in every once in awhile, but that was most of the excitement I had. Other figures snuck a glance at me, too. You see, I've been here nearly since the shop had opened up, and no one has bothered to pick me. I, was an original. One of a kind…whenever I think about it, it sickens me to know my price is a simple three dollars and two cents. I should be more than that. Like one of those factory dolls, they always brag about their prices being up to a hundred because they were "well made". Maybe, but barely anything has been taken the care and time to be perfect by hand. Like me.

Still, a smile struck on my face, forever painted on it. True, maybe my colors had faded a little, but my wood wasn't what it used to be over the years. Maria, the girl I was given to, had probably helped with the process of hugging me so much when she was young…Maria. She didn't like me anymore, but I was still adorned with the name she had given me. Shadow.

I lived upon a shelf until she saw me through the window,

She snuck me in her purse and chucked her bags to San Francisco, USA..

Guess I never looked to see if I'm okay…okay.

Interrupting my thoughts, a bell rang at the door rather loudly at the sound it made in the empty, quiet shop. A young woman, with gorgeous white hair at her shoulders in leggings and a loose shirt (that also revealed some cleavage) had walked in through the door, a satchel on her wide hips. A typical woman, these days… except she made no fuss looking around or to ask for a bathroom. Instead, her stare landed directly on me. It was almost unnerving. Perhaps she'd buy me?

My creator wasn't in the shop right now, barely anyone came by anymore so he didn't waste his time sitting at the desk. He usually stayed in his small office, making more puppets to join the collection…

Then I was gently picked up off the shelf, which alerted me. I was being taken. No, stolen! I was being the object of theft! I was shoved in her bag, and she ran out as fast as she could, a hand where I was to make sure I didn't break. What was going to happen to me?

Don't make this world look bad,

Oh now, don't make my smile seem sad,

To you~

After awhile, she had slowed her run to a walk and I heard a door opening…where was I? The bag I was in was placed upon a glass table, and she lifted me up out, carefully. This house was magnificent. A large mansion considering the spiraling staircase next to the wall. But what was more interesting…a couple feet over from this table, was a stage. A little, beautiful stage with red velvet curtains and backgrounds. Even little lights! Was this woman who had stolen me a puppeteer? If so, where were all the other puppets? I didn't get it. But perhaps….I wouldn't rot away to sawdust in that shop anyways. I was going to be played with and used for entertainment. I had a purpose! Maybe, this wouldn't be so bad after all…

At first the world looked nice and people seemed quite pleased to meet me,

At dinner parties, guests would smile and kindly compliment me,

Later that night, a flock of people came to the house and I was placed on the stage, standing up straight and they would come and greet me. I was admired and adored, and even one of the guests-a blue hedgehog- took up my strings and made me move joyfully, pulling at all the right times to perform skips and jumps. Laughter filled the air, and everyone was enjoying themselves. My joints were a bit kinky from not being used in so long, but I still moved smoothly when commanded. For a second there, it could feel like the line of black on my wooden muzzle grew upwards…

All handmade,

"Not that many things," they'd say, are,

Handmade~

Everyone loved me, and were amazed when they held me, admiring my woodwork. I was treated like I should have been…admired for the time put in for making me, my slightly faded colors proving the fact I was an antique. I don't know how much time I had spent there, the weeks flew by like minutes. I could stay here forever. But being handled so much in such little time, some of my black turned into a light gray, and soon my original light brown wood came to show on my side. I was still special nonetheless, and my pointed ears only heard the laughter of the crowds I entertained.

Then for reasons I can't name,

All the ones began to slowly change,

One night though, I was put away in a cupboard. I don't know why, but I could still hear the chattering of the people in the other rooms, and confusion flocked around me. Why wasn't I out there, putting on a show? Why wasn't I being held and smiled at? Why was I put in this dark, small place? I couldn't even dangle my legs out, like I could in the shop…

I was in there for awhile. Days and a week passed by before she took me out again, and put on the glass table. Then, she turned around and left me. I was sitting there, alone again.

She ran off to a distant land,

Came through the doors, and in her hand,

It had turned to night and the moon shined through the window, and it was an hour after midnight where she returned. The lights flickered on, and I heard her footsteps of her high heels clicking on the tile floor.

Some piece of plastic, bought to take my place…

When she approached me, I was introduced into a different puppet. It was a shiny, red echidna puppet who grinned at me, and all I could do was take in his appearance. Long dreadlocks fell from his head, most of his body a bright shining red because of the plastic he was made out of, and a white checkmark on his chest as well with yellow and green shoes. I then was swapped places with him, the echidna being placed on the table and me in her hand. I was taken outside, and brutally tossed upon a pile of trash, in a stinky garbage bin on the side of the house.

Saint Gepetto, patron saint of puppets, pray for us.

I wasn't needed anymore. I was too old and wearing down. Plastic held longer in looks, that bright a red wouldn't fade for years…I hated factory puppets. I had seen the logo imprinted on that other puppet's tail. Now I was left here to rot…what did I ever do to deserve this?

I've heard it said that one man's trash could be another's treasure,

It all depends upon the things in which we choose to measure,

Handmade,

It had been three days I spent lying in the trashbin, surviving cold nights and warm days, the sun fading my colors even faster, and I think I was warping. People walked by, but paid no mind to me. I was worthless now… my smile had been worn down to a flat line, emotionless and serious. I had nothing else to smile about, anyways.

It was a severely cold night once again when a dark figure in a cloak walked up to me, and picked me up. A pair of scissors cut off my strings, and I was taken away from the house. Again, I had no idea what was happening to me but this time I didn't care. One of my smoothed quills was being eaten by a family of bugs somewhere in that bin, and I was in bad shape. I limply lied in the arms of the stranger, pretty much broken. I was probably be taken somewhere for firewood. I would burn and melt to ash, rubbed inside the earth.

Not that many things these days are,

Handmade,

Murmurings of silent apologies and small compliments were whispered in my ears, and I was shocked that promises of a better life were made to me. Even so, rotted and disgusting, I was still being admired…

Strange how many things get thrown away,

Handmade,

Sooner or later, I was taken into a dark house. Glass cases of dolls and figures, puppets and more stared at me. Everything was dimly lit and patterns of black thorned roses were upon the wallpaper, and I was put in a little chair. Then, the figure took of it's cloak, revealing a black hedgehog quite much like myself, but with soft lavender instead of red. He took out a drawer of little tools, and brought me close, fixing me up.

Nothing is too sacred to be saved,

Handmade,

He had a filer, which he smoothed out my quills and cut some of the wood off so they would match the size of my half eaten one, and made them pointier and sharper. I was reworked and remodeled on, and repainted so that I would look fresh as new again as I did long ago. My line for a mouth was pointed down, so I was stuck scowling or frowning forever. Black was painted slightly under my eyes, to give the whites of my eyes a brighter look and my joints were oiled and new, strong invisible strings attached again to their hooks, and once the man was done with me he picked me up, gave me a smirk and kissed my forehead.

Saint Gepetto's rolling in his grave,

Then I was taken into another room, and put in a glass case on a dresser. I was made a promise, to be taken care of every day and to be favored. The lights went out and two small candles were lit next to the case, and the dark hedgehog stared at me, proud of his work and newfound toy.

Saint Gepetto's rolling in his grave,

After all that had happened to me, from being neglected and used, that wouldn't happen ever again…I could get used to that.

Saint Gepetto's rolling in his grave…

And it was true. Every day from then on, I was taken out of the case and played with, put on a stage and performed with other puppets outside in the market, made sure to be kept care of and remain well looking. Mephiles, the hedgehog who took me in made sure of all that. Each night he would put me back and light the two candles, telling me I was his favorite puppet and go to sleep, back again in the morning for another day.

Years later still, the puppet was living a fairly good life, putting on shows for children in the market and having purpose once again. What happened to the toymaker and his shop, or the woman, we may never know. But even now, the puppet and his puppeteer travel around the world, entertaining people everywhere.

~LE FIN~