A Busy Toy Shop – By Ellie – May

December 19, 2013 7:27pm Published by Jules Smith in The Art Philosopher 5 Comments

Guest Blogger – Ellie – May.

Multiple sighs from parents invaded my eardrums as squealing children slowly entered the toy shop.  My vision was blurred by bright colours; light danced off of faces.  Even clothing was colourful, whether it was being tugged on by small hands or held still by large ones, all looked joyful.  Small children’s squeals continued as fluffy bears and plastic dolls were placed into baskets.  A young boy sat motionless next to a race car game as several others played; his eyes following the cars as they went around and around the minute track.
 It was almost so loud that I felt as if I couldn’t hear anything at all.
 Cries.  Cries from a group of girls pierced through the overwhelming false silence.
Olbas oil was an evident scent in the air as a Mother passed around tissues, whilst stood next to the empty doll shelf.  

Chills made the hairs on the back of my neck stand, as if listening to an angel sing.  The breeze was icy as she opened the door with ease.  Several holes in her gloves revealed bright pink skin, identical to the colour of the end of her nose.  Covering her smile was messy hair, held down by a hat to match her torn gloves.  Many pedestrians ducked through underneath her arm, which held the door open.  Not one of them thanked her, still, she continued to hold the door willingly.  
Cinnamon tarnished the ‘new shop’ smell as festive treats were handed out to paying customers.  The air fell heavy with excitement, it was a blanket covering all troubles.  Muffled arguments surrounded the till, disagreeing with prices, bag sizes, other pointless things.  
One corner fell silent among the rest, where a little girl stared inquisitively at a jigsaw set.  Motherly hands tried to edge her over towards the dolls and sweets.  She did not budge.  
Passing through multiple crowds, a small man in yellow uniform passed information on.  Smiles turned to frowns and shrugs rather quickly.  Flashing lights came to a sudden stop.  A blush of pink hung in the sky, cold air caused wincing faces.  

Multiple sighs from parents invaded my eardrums as squealing children slowly left the toy shop. 


Leave a reply

Immediately, I admired this. I think it is difficult to write in first person without the story sounding like, “it’s all about me.”
You made me feel the atmosphere. It was great! I loved your descriptions especially when you wrote about color. It is often ignored.

Very nice concise prose. I can smell the cinnamon.

Bravo. You made me feel like I was in that toy shop, which was not an unqualified pleasure. Who was the man in the yellow uniform? He’s almost as sinister as the man in the black pyjamas…or ‘pajamas’ as the Americans spell it.

I see that great talent runs in the family 😉

This makes me feel nostalgic for something – no bloody clue what tho – well written 🙂

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