Once upon a time, its shadow luminous in the bright sunlight, sat a small
teddy bear called Pal in a store window on 23rd Avenue. For an item in a
toy store known for its gigantic masterpieces, Pal was exceptionally small.
He had a furry brown coat, bright, beady eyes, and blue overalls with
orange buttons trimmed neatly with yellow edges. Pal could not remember how
long he had sat in that display window, overlooking the crowded people of
the city, rushing back and forth every day, their hands loaded with
overflowing shopping bags and crying children. The only thing Pal could
recall about his distant past was his burning desire for someone to take
him to a place where he would be loved and cared for, a place he could call
home. Unfortunately, the waiting seemed to last forever and a day.
Less than often, a few people would enter the toy shop (which was called Toy Masterpieces, by the way) and marvel silently at the huge dolls smiling stiffly in the corner and the huge toy train sets, complete with the train and its accomplices, displayed proudly in the center of the store. Between these astonishing exhibits stood numerous shelves, shelves that seemed to stand miles high, filled with practically every toy you could imagine. It was the kind of toy store a child could only dream about when they were soundly asleep in their beds, tossing and turning in their sleep with tempting images of mounds of toys dancing in their minds. And in the center of it all, hardly creating a shimmer of light in the long shadow of the seemingly endless amount of impressive toys, was Pal.
It wasn’t a bad life. Pal was proud to be a part of such an impressive attraction, but sometimes it seemed that he would never fulfill his purpose, would never be sold just because of his small size. More than once had he blamed his misfortune on himself, cursing the fate that he had been created so tiny in the midst of the giants that dominated the store. Whenever customers did show up, he appeared invisible to all of them. No one even looked at him, much less develop the urge to purchase such a minor plaything. Would there ever be a day when his desire could be satisfied? Was it too much to ask for, too much to have a longing for someone to call a friend and a place to call a home? Pal didn’t know. All he knew was that his craving was the only thing that provided him with the strength to withstand the patience of waiting for that certain person to cross his path.
Once, when night had fallen and all was quiet, Pal had crept silently from his spot by the window and tried to make himself bigger by stretching his arms and legs by the nearby display table. Of course, it had failed. Filled with a dreaded sense of misery that he couldn’t get rid of, Pal had repeated the procedure several nights in a row, bringing the length of his tiny arms and legs to an exhausted extent until they were deeply sore. Finally, he gave up that idea. It obviously wouldn’t work.
The only thing worse than knowing that he might never be bought was the fact that other toys in the store knew about it, too. For reasons the world haven’t comprehended even now, big things have always had a certain obsession of looking down on the little things, and there was no exception with the toys in the store and Pal. All of them had sneered down at him at least once, and most of them had done it continually since the time he had sat in that display window. The worst of them all (although all of them were pretty bad) was Samantha the Victorian Doll. She was about one meter high, with huge blue eyes that never blinked and a thick cascade of huge, dark curls. She, like everybody else, was considered enormous compared to Pal’s five inches high and three inches across. And she, also like everybody else, loved taunting him.
“You’ll never be sold,â€
Less than often, a few people would enter the toy shop (which was called Toy Masterpieces, by the way) and marvel silently at the huge dolls smiling stiffly in the corner and the huge toy train sets, complete with the train and its accomplices, displayed proudly in the center of the store. Between these astonishing exhibits stood numerous shelves, shelves that seemed to stand miles high, filled with practically every toy you could imagine. It was the kind of toy store a child could only dream about when they were soundly asleep in their beds, tossing and turning in their sleep with tempting images of mounds of toys dancing in their minds. And in the center of it all, hardly creating a shimmer of light in the long shadow of the seemingly endless amount of impressive toys, was Pal.
It wasn’t a bad life. Pal was proud to be a part of such an impressive attraction, but sometimes it seemed that he would never fulfill his purpose, would never be sold just because of his small size. More than once had he blamed his misfortune on himself, cursing the fate that he had been created so tiny in the midst of the giants that dominated the store. Whenever customers did show up, he appeared invisible to all of them. No one even looked at him, much less develop the urge to purchase such a minor plaything. Would there ever be a day when his desire could be satisfied? Was it too much to ask for, too much to have a longing for someone to call a friend and a place to call a home? Pal didn’t know. All he knew was that his craving was the only thing that provided him with the strength to withstand the patience of waiting for that certain person to cross his path.
Once, when night had fallen and all was quiet, Pal had crept silently from his spot by the window and tried to make himself bigger by stretching his arms and legs by the nearby display table. Of course, it had failed. Filled with a dreaded sense of misery that he couldn’t get rid of, Pal had repeated the procedure several nights in a row, bringing the length of his tiny arms and legs to an exhausted extent until they were deeply sore. Finally, he gave up that idea. It obviously wouldn’t work.
The only thing worse than knowing that he might never be bought was the fact that other toys in the store knew about it, too. For reasons the world haven’t comprehended even now, big things have always had a certain obsession of looking down on the little things, and there was no exception with the toys in the store and Pal. All of them had sneered down at him at least once, and most of them had done it continually since the time he had sat in that display window. The worst of them all (although all of them were pretty bad) was Samantha the Victorian Doll. She was about one meter high, with huge blue eyes that never blinked and a thick cascade of huge, dark curls. She, like everybody else, was considered enormous compared to Pal’s five inches high and three inches across. And she, also like everybody else, loved taunting him.
“You’ll never be sold,â€