The Toy Shop

The toy shop was tall and narrow, at the start of a quiet street on top of a small hill - it looked as though the building had been squeezed onto the end of the short row of white-front houses as an afterthought.
Its windows were high and crooked and didn't line up with one another. It had stone roof tiles and a single elegantly shaped brick-red chimney pot.
Inside, it was bright and colourful. Everything was packed close together - there was only enough room for a single line of adults and small children to snake their way between the shelves.
And the shelves were full of a myriad of toys. Stuffed teddies of all shapes and sizes - some with ribbons round their necks, some with waistcoats and spectacles, others naked with round bellies. Wooden train sets, lovingly constructed; medieval castles and colourful nutcrackers. Dozens of different kinds of marbles, smooth and round - some with swirling patterns on their surfaces, some clear but coloured, others misty like an enchanted morning.
And up the creaky stairs there was even more: rocking horse and dolls houses; dusty books and minature furniture. The children would stand and gape, clutching their caps in front of them, eyes wide. They would drag their parents to see this and that treasure, and their shouts and laughter rang through the building.
Except for in one corner, in the furthest room of the upstairs floor. A dark corner in which a pile of minature Arabian rugs appeared to have been piled in a heap - discarded, or else convering something.
If one of the adults would try to lead the children towards that corner, they would suddenly become shy and quiet. And if the adults then laughed and took them by the hand to lead them closer, they would dig their heels into the floor and tug their hands away and begin to appeal to their parents, their voices high and scared.
The adults would laugh and give in, taking their children back to the rest of the shop with puzzled smiles.
For the adults had long since forgotten to hear the voices that came from that corner - whispers, inviting the children to play. Insistent, beautiful, dangerous voices, calling to the children to join them. They would not hear how, as they tried to coax their children further towards the back of the room the voices would become hungrier, more like hisses in the dark. Or, as they led their children away, how the voices would once again become melodious and playful, like the tinkling of glass, telling them to come back soon, come back soon, come back soon...