Page 12 of Scary & Bright
The steps leading up to the second-floor balcony were clearly built or modified with toys in mind. Each step was low, maybe four inches off the ground, and wide enough for Starlight even to rock her weight over and catch herself. As she rocked over the first step, I gestured an offer to pick her up, but she shook her head in a grateful no. Tuff wobbled way ahead of us on his mission as if he didn’t care to be a part of this ordeal, but I knew if that were truly the case, he wouldn’t have come along.
“You remember, of course, my mentioning how this place is sort of the opposite of the North Pole?” Starlight continued. “The North Pole is where new toys are developed, perfected, and put into production for Christmas Eve mass distribution. The South Pole, where we are now, is where old toys go when they’re no longer wanted or needed. It’s sort of like a toy retirement home if you will.”
“Do all the old toys come here, or just some of them?” I asked, noting how empty the place felt on our journey to the next floor. If every single toy was here, they were doing a very good job of hiding. Or else, did Krampus take care of them as well? The thought sent a chill down my spine.
“Only the ones who are ready.” Starlight nodded. “Toys who have been very well loved and have done their job with dignity and honor get the chance to come here and have a second chance. Some choose to take it, and some don’t.”
“Why wouldn’t a toy want the opportunity to retire and hang out in a cool castle?” I prodded, still trying to get a better understanding of the way this place worked. If Krampus had built a decent reputation with these toys, there was no way he could be entirely terrible, right?
“Some are just tired and ready to go, I suppose,” Starlight said, her rainbow yarn mane flopping back and forth with her rocking. “And some just don’t function well in a world without their kid. And some, well…” The horse’s voice trailed off, and I heard Tuff clear his throat in a way that sounded like a warning.
“Well, what?” I insisted, hoping the wrestler’s warning wouldn’t prevent Starlight from getting into what she was about to say. Curiosity and self-preservation were making me hang on to her every word.
“Some just can’t see past Krampus,” Tuff announced, butting into our conversation and ensuring Starlight kept whatever she was going to say to herself. “Some just can’t see how darkness is necessary for there to be any light.”
“Oh,” I muttered.
Their combined effort to be less than transparent was worrisome. I was trying to put the pieces together without a certain direction, and the only things I was absolutely sure about were that terrible things had happened in that basement and that I was never expected to leave that same basement.
Dread sank into my heart as I wondered if the toys’ kindness was genuine or just a Band-Aid over my bleak fate. If the latter were true, I would not allow myself to be caught in a trap. My head stayed on a swivel as I made a note of all the doors. I wanted to have a mental layout of as much of the castle as possible—it would come in handy if I needed to hide.
Or run.
6
KRAMPUS
As soon as I was on the opposite side of the basement door, I made a beeline for my study. Around and around, I walked along the winding stairs, which ran along the walls of the main castle tower. I became hyper-aware of my body’s natural movements. It felt like I was manually breathing in and out and had to remind myself to blink. With every step I took as I climbed higher and higher up into the castle, I was incredibly aware of the toys scattering out of my way and making themselves scarce.
I wasn’t sure which was worse: the sheer anxiety of having no idea what I was going to do next or the debilitating guilt of ending yet another life. They were both such unique brands of personal torment.
My vision blurred along my peripherals as I walked. More than anything, I just needed quiet, and I needed to not feel the prying eyes of every toy watching me descend into what felt like madness. I wanted, needed, to be alone to process what I was feeling, to try to dissect the turmoil raging within me, and my biggest fear was that the girl might see me before I could hide myself away. There was no way to tell how long it would take for the toys to free her from the cell and escort her to a nicer room, but I knew I wanted to be well away before our paths had a chance to cross.
My goal was in sight. The spiraling path that I had followed to the highest point in the castle ended with one final elaborate iron staircase that turned inward toward a platform that circled the very top of the Great Tree. My study was just one mild step up from there in what had once been a skylight observatory but was now just a great room with stone walls.
“Krampus!”
Dammit, dammit, dammit, I thought to myself.
It was ignorant of me to assume I could have even one moment of sincere privacy. Of course, Mister Bear beat me to the study, as he always did when he knew tension was in the air. I knew, without a doubt, that the little stuffed animal wouldn’t have given me a moment of peace until he was confident I would be okay.
Whether he was my assistant, friend, therapist, or annoying angel, nagging from a seat on my shoulder like a personification of my conscience, was still up in the air. No matter what he was, he was already sitting comfortably in the oversized leather chair beside the perpetually burning fireplace.
“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. Normally these things take a bit longer.” The little bear began to scoot out of the chair, likely assuming I would want to sit down, but sitting was the last thing on my mind. “Is everything all right? You’re looking a little more pale than usual… And that is saying something.”
I began to pace in circles around the peak of the Great Tree, which my study wrapped entirely around. In the reflection of each glass orb ornament, a picture could be seen—visions of the world beyond the South Pole, as well as the goings on within the castle itself. For as long as I could remember, the ornaments had acted as my only connection to the outside world and often were the last things keeping me from losing my mind. I saw her, for a brief moment, emerging from the basement with both Starlight and Tuff at her side. The image was muted, so I could only wonder what the toys were telling her about the castle and about me.
“No, Mister, things are very, very much absolutely not fine,” I admitted, hearing the panicked cracks in my voice. I sounded insane. I sounded like a frantic child. I didn’t recognize the sound of my own voice at all as I pulled my gaze away from the sight of her reflected in the ornament.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” Mister cooed, keeping his own voice as calm and cool as possible. He ran on his tiny stuffed paws in the opposite direction of my pacing to cut me off. Tiny squeaks could be heard with each of his rapid steps. “What happened, Kramp? Do you want to talk about it?”
I refused to stop moving. I felt like if I stopped moving, my heart would stop beating. The adrenaline was indescribable, and it felt like I might be dying. Was this dying? Mister Bear began to weave between my hooves in a weak attempt to get me to slow down.
“No, I don’t want to talk about it,” I snapped. “Yes, I do, actually. No, I don’t.” Finally, I stopped pacing and slammed my palms against the sides of my head in frustration. “Mister, I am absolutely fucked. We are fucked, and I have no idea what to do!”
“But why!?” the teddy bear exclaimed, trying to catch his breath. What felt like nervous pacing to me probably felt like running a swift mile to Mister. “Why, pray tell, are we… effed?”
Despite my vocabulary, Mister Bear had spent the better part of two decades attached to the hip of his kid, so he was still reluctant to allow what he called “bad words” into his vernacular, even after he’d been with me another two decades after the fact.