Chapter Eighty One: The Fangs of a Toy

To learn what is good,

a thousand days are not sufficient.

To learn what is evil,

an hour is too long.

-- Chinese Proverb

Somewhere in Quebec Province, Canada

8:45 pm.

The girl was walking hurriedly with a stuffed toy carried against her chest, both hands tightly hugging the bear as if it was capable of escaping. It seems like she was walking down a busy street with a certain predicament that she cannot reveal, and it looks very suspicious that she was all alone crossing streets in this cold, and viciously appointed night, without any suitable adult to accompany her.

But, of course, she wasn't alone. And the stuffed bear is very much alive, truly capable of escaping.

The stuffed toy was animated by some power and obviously most sinister; in fact, it has taken over the free will of this poor child, fully controlling her. It was manipulating her senses to do the bidding of the evil substance that took over the creative inspiration at the production stage of this stuffed toy. There is nothing special about it, except that the innate power of the creative extent that built the soft bear was more powerful than what is primarily expected of a regular toy coming from the Toy Factory of the Christmas Corporation.

Nobody can ever notice that the girl was taking orders from the forces of evil, however good or cruel the intentions are. And this is what makes the entire North Pole operation dangerous. The toys manufactured by The Village are too vulnerable to be manipulated by the enemy depending on how the wards react to the protection of the Magic of Christmas. A simple failure in the scheduling of the magical sleighs makes the greatest impact in the order and the distortion of things held to be fully sacred and most noble.

The constellations are important as it adorn the night sky.

This is mainly due to the remaining residue of the ultimate fate of the Defiant Institution, when they lost to the impetus of goodness during the Final Battle, humiliated and humbled, but just before the Physical Clock had the chance to rewind the clocks, tragic but bittersweet, in order for this dimension to begin again. The defeat wasn't permanent, unfirtunately. Instead, everything returned to the most distant past, back at the very beginning.

They heard a loud Big Bang after the clock's power took effect. Then, dreams and nightmares prevailed.

The little girl now took a left turn when she reached an intersection of a busy street. Her face was sweet and adorable, but her eyes are reflecting whatever evil was controlling her. It was a strong aura reminiscent of pure danger; yet, no one can know the true substance of the parasite inside her soul by merely judging her demeanors and based solely on her appearance.

She was too cute to be anything else, but armed. Looks can be deceiving.

It was far too dangerous to ignore her presence. She was totally free. Defiant and liberated. Fierce. She had escaped all forms of authority.

She was not alone in this night of the living dead. She was thriving and doing the main purpose of her childhood as she was able to unknowingly "offer" her soul to the devil.

x---------x

This Chapter is sponsored by Burberry.