Tin Heart

         Ssshh…

         Mustn’t make a sound.

         I jumped, narrowly missing the vase on the shelf below mine. Straightening, I brushed the dust off of my uniform and turned to check my reflection in the blue glass of the vase behind me.

         A little rusty, but not too bad.

         I hadn’t moved from that shelf in over five years.

         Turning away from my blue hued reflection I looked down to the next shelf. It was further down than this one had been. I turned and looked back up at the shelf I had occupied for so long, I knew that there was no going back on my own.

         Sitting on the edge of the shelf I dangled my small legs over and slowly lowered myself until I hung by my arms. My shoulders creaked and protested holding the weight of my small hollow tin body. I let go.

         Expecting to hit the next shelf with a dull metallic plink I was surprised to see it fall past me. I still hadn’t registered the fact that I had missed the shelf until I fell onto the carpet in an undignified heap. Exasperated, I stood and once again brushed myself off. Small flakes of rust danced onto the carpet with every sweep of my hand.

         At least now I was on the floor.

         I began to walk across the carpet, jerking with every step but making good progress. The door had been left open so I slipped out and into the hallway. The only light was that of the moon, but it was enough to light my way, and enough for me to see the large staircase before I toppled down it. Sighing, I took a deep breath and began the descent.

         Going down the stairs had been easy, it was going back up them that I feared.

         I was in the entryway. Now I had to get outside.

         But wait.

         There, on the table. There it was!

         I broke into a stumbling run, putting more strain on my rusty joints and endangering my existence. None of it mattered though. I had found what I was looking for in the most unexpected of places, inside.

         I swiftly climbed up the table legs and found myself face to face with the very object of my desire. The bright yellow flowers seemed to catch the moonlight with golden hands and reflect it back to me a million times brighter than before. The light in turn reflected off of me and back to the daffodils. Smiling, I reached up and grasped the stem of one of the flowers.

         I lifted on the flower, attempting to pull it from the vase. The vase, however, was taller than me and I was unable to remove the flower without toppling it.

         I was drenched, completely soaked in the water that had kept the flowers fresh.

         Pulling one flower from the puddle I dragged it to the edge of the table and dropped it to the floor. I jumped down beside it, landing in the puddle of water that had dripped onto the carpet.

         Picking up the flower I propped it onto my shoulder and started walking back to the stairs. I could feel my small tin joints grow stiff, and I fought it as best I could. I had to get back upstairs with the flower.

         Once at the bottom of the stairs I began what would become the longest climb of my life. Throwing the daffodil onto the step I then climbed up next to it and repeated the process, over and over. With each climb my shoulders squealed louder and my knees became stiffer. Eventually I couldn’t even bend them and had to climb straight-legged.

         I could feel the rust growing on my thin, tin skin and I knew I’d never make it home.

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         Standing alone on her shelf she clutched the bright red quill in her porcelain fist. She had traded a lock of her hair for the treasure and she knew that he would love it, it would compliment his uniform so nicely.

         Impatiently she waited for his return.

         The sun was rising, she could see its light through the window. But her tin soldier had not returned. He had left the night before, promising to be back before morning with her gift. He had promised something special.

         The sun peeked in the windows and washed over the doll, warming her chill features and drying the small tear that had landed on her cheek.

         The water pooled on the table around the fallen vase of daffodil's began to evaporate in the morning light.

         When the sun found the stairs it began to slowly creep up them, revealing each step one at a time. Three steps from the top stood a rusted tin soldier, holding a daffodil above his head as though preparing to throw it to the step above him.

Thank you StephBee for the beautiful ribbon!