The Toy Factory

 

"It was a dark, desolate town. A large, forboding factory sat in the distance on a hill. The factory controlled the town, and the townspeople knew to walk by, humbly and obediently. The townspeople had sayings, 'It is a toy town, that's just the way things are.'

Nearby, there was a child's house, a strange mood within, and a quiet, dark room. The strange toys sat about, lurking and sinister in their presence.

The child's face was pale, and his mood was somber. There was no joy in his attire or appearance, as he sat and watched the room. He was told to stay calm. He was told to be obedient. The toys from the factory rocked back and forth, the child's eyes locked on them seriously. A soft gust blew past the boy from an open window, and he did not react to it at all.

Back up on the hill, the factory sat, and strange and secretive proceedings were apparent. Somber rituals and assembly lines, strange toys and ominous offices. An era of full and absolute totalitarian obedience filled the dark floors.

The workers muttered, and disappeared. Any forethought or conscience went harshly punished. The dark office upstairs was not mentioned...

Two men, delivery men, had arrived at the ominous factory. They got out, preparing large boxes. They were overheard in hushed tones, commenting on the factory.

One delivery man muttered, hunching over a box. 'I guess that's the way it is, after all!' They had heard about the town. His partner shrugged and responded. 'There's really nothing anyone can do. '

The first delivery man spoke again, warily eyeing the toy factory, still curious. 'But why a toy factory? Isn't that a bit strange?' He shuddered, and they shuffled off, carrying the packages on their way into the dark factory.

The factory swallowed them up, and spit them out a few minutes later. They were quiet, brooding, and obedient. Not another murmur escaped their lips. They went to go get more packages, not a trace of insurrection in their lifeless eyes."

Short Stories