Mr. Templeton's Toyshop
Thomas Wiloch
Thomas Wiloch's Grimoire lasted six issues, offering "nihilistic pablum for a mediocre society." Despite its short life it made an impact and won't soon be forgotten. His own prose miniatures have graced the Ace Books anthology Elsewhere (World Fantasy Award winner) and many small journals of surrealism and horror. His collection Stigmata Junction (prose poems and collages) was issued by Stride in Cheshire, England, with a second collection pending. Portions of "Mr. Templeton's Toyshop" appeared in All the Devils are Here edited by David Deyo, Jr., a landmark anthology from the Unnamable Press folks, who started out as a letterpress publisher of macabre poetry.
The Porcelain Doll
Mr. Templeton's toyshop is quite unique. He has glass animals, lead soldiers, and wooden ships. There are paper kites, crystal rings, marbles, and music boxes. And high on a shelf is the beautiful Alice, a porcelain doll so dainty and lifelike as to rival even the little girls in the village. The old woman buys Alice. "It will be a gift for my granddaughter," she explains. "I'm sure she will enjoy it," Mr. Templeton says politely. He carefully wraps the doll and takes the money she hands him. It is late and he is closing shop and she is the last to leave. They say goodnight and Mr. Templeton closes the door behind her. As she walks home in the darkness, the woman fancies a movement in the package she carries. There seems to be a wriggling. She is surprised when a tiny hand pokes out of the paper. She is even more surprised when the hand pushes a little knife into her throat. She can only gurgle incoherently as she falls. Later, we see Mr. Templeton in his toyshop window. His eyes are gleaming with expectation. Soon he spies his little Alice strutting down the moonlit street, a bloodstained pocketbook in one hand, and a gleaming knife in the other.
The Kaleidoscope
Mr. Templeton holds the kaleidoscope to the young boy's eye. "Look in here," he says. The boy peeks inside the little cardboard tube while Mr. Templeton twists the other end. "See the colors?" Mr. Templeton says. "Oh, yes," says the boy. "What pretty patterns it makes!" Mr. Templeton smiles. Then he twists the kaleidoscope the other way. The boy's mouth opens wide, he inhales, and then he screams. "There we are," says Mr. Templeton, pulling the kaleidoscope from the child's bloody socket. "Now let's get the other eye." Later, a woman comes to the toyshop to buy a stuffed bear for her nephew. "That one is perfect," she says, pointing out a particular bear. "It has the prettiest blue eyes, just like my little nephew Randy." Mr. Templeton raises his eyebrows, a ' trifle surprised. "I believe I've met your Randy," he tells her.
The Music Box
He buys a music box at Mr. Templeton's toyshop. It is carved of dark oak and has hinges of brass. "It will play the Salzbach waltz," says Mr. Templeton, "when I set the mechanism." He is sure she will like it. "Please deliver it today," he says, and Mr. Templeton nods sagely. Later, she opens the package the deliveryman has brought. "A music box," she cries. It is so very beautiful. She reads the card he has enclosed and she smiles. How sweet. Wanting to hear the song the box plays, she lifts the lid. A melody begins. A soft and lilting melody. She finds herself dancing. It is a most compelling tune. That night he stops by to see how she likes his gift. He knocks on the door. He knocks again. He opens the door and enters her room. She is crumpled on the floor, gasping and holding her heart. Her feet kick back and forth, scraping the wooden floor in time with the tinkling melody. "My dear!" he cries, rushing forward. But he cannot reach her. He cannot bend down to help her. Instead, he finds himself dancing...
The Toy Boat
Mr. Templeton hands the toy boat to the boy at the counter. Its white sails glow in the darkness of the musty toyshop and its single red running light shines like a malignant eye. The boy gapes at this treasure, which, after long weeks of saving, is finally his alone. "Enjoy your boat!" says Mr. Templeton as the boy leaves the shop. "I will!" the boy calls back. "Right away!" Mr. Templeton smiles. The boy gathers some friends together and, amid a flurry of excited voices, the children hurry to the river. There, the boy places his boat into the water and, majestically, it drifts away. The children jump and shout and run along the shore, following the craft. Suddenly, a change comes over the boat. The white sails swell, the wooden frame widens, and the masts sprout from twig size to poles. The boat is growing. And presently there is a sailing ship before their startled, delighted eyes. The ship comes to a halt. A gangplank is lowered. The children scramble aboard. They have never been on a ship before. Some climb the rigging, others examine the cannon, and still others spin the great wheel that steers the ship. Behind them the gangplank is quietly hoisted. Then, magically, the ship seems to vibrate. It grows less clear; its image blurred and smaller. In a moment it is gone. There is only empty space. Space, and a small toy boat bumping against the rocks of the shore. We see Mr. Templeton approach and pluck the boat from the water. Later, in the silence of his dark study, Mr. Templeton sits at his desk. The toy boat has been placed before him while he holds one of the children in a pair of tweezers. With his free hand, he carefully pulls at the child's tiny fingers. The child raises quite a fuss as, one by one, Mr. Templeton removes the fingers and places them in a neat row upon a sheet of white paper. The noise is really more than Mr.
Templeton can stand. Why must children be so loud? This was to be, he had hoped, a quiet evening of scientific study. He puts an end to the child's complaints with a well-placed pin.
The Figurines
The figurines on the glass shelf are delicately fashioned. "Even the eyelashes are perfect," the woman says. Mr. Templeton smiles proudly. "However do you carve them so?" she asks, examining a little man dressed in a business suit. She unbuttons the man's coat and a tiny label displays the manufacturer's name. "These figures are not carved," Mr. Templeton explains. "Come here, I'll show you." He leads her into the back of the store. Lifting a cloth, he reveals a metal birdcage. Inside the cage is a crowd of tiny people, each three inches tall. "A simple hypodermic injection," Mr. Templeton says. "I do a bit of experimenting as a hobby." He opens a trapdoor on the top of the cage and, reaching in with a pair of tongs, he lifts out a small woman. The woman kicks her legs and swings her arms and the sounds she makes are like squeaky shoes. "I will show you how it is done," Mr. Templeton says. He places the small woman in a glass jar, and then he sprays a mist at her from a squeeze bottle. The woman coughs, twitches, and then is stiff. She stands impossibly still, staring. Mrs. Templeton picks her up and hands her to his customer. "Here you are," he says. "Isn't it lovely?" The woman gasps and drops the figurine on the floor. It shatters like a teacup. "Oh my," says Mr. Templeton. "A most unfortunate accident. I'm afraid you will have to replace that for me." The nervous woman reaches into her purse. "Oh no," says Mr. Templeton, grabbing the woman's arm and poking her-with a hypodermic, "that is not what I meant at all."
The Magnifying Glass
The shelf of magnifying glasses has attracted the man's attention. "I'm looking for a toy for my son. Something mentally stimulating," he says. "Try this one," says Mr.
Templeton, handing him a large magnifying glass with a black handle. "Go stand by the window so you get the best light." The man walks to the window and peers through the magnifying glass, examining his hand. "This is a good lens," he tells Mr. Templeton. "I can see the pores of my hand perfectly." "That's an amazing lens," Mr. Templeton agrees. The man shifts the glass to investigate the pattern on his tie, but there is something abnormal. The hand he has just been looking at has changed. It has enlarged and grown warped, as if the distortion of the magnifying glass has taken hold and set. "Oh my god," says the man. His torso feels odd. He has been holding the lens to his tie and now his chest, too, has expanded strangely. As he frantically drops the magnifying glass, it slides against his leg, distorting it so that the misshapen limb can no longer support him. He falls. "What's going on?" the man says to Mr. Templeton, who comes around the counter and carefully picks up the magnifying glass. 'I have been doing some experiments with this glass," Mr. Templeton explains. "It only does this in sunlight." He stoops over the frightened man and holds the lens to his panicked face. "Now," says Mr. Templeton, "let's see what this glass can really do."