During the middle of the night, George heard the door to his room creak open. Was that a ghost? He thought in horror. Pretending to still be asleep, he carefully opened his eyes to see an old man setting down a toy at the end of the bed. When the old man shuffled out of the room, George pulled the covers off. Who was he?
He had to go and see. He slowly opened the door and surveyed both ends of the hall. He saw the old man turning the corner. George quietly followed him. The old man went down another corridor then another until he saw him go into a room where an oil lamp was lit.
George crept inside the room and was awed by the many toys that decorated the every space of the room including the walls and ceiling. It was the most toys he had ever seen in his life. What was this place? A sound from somewhere in the room brought his attention back to the old man who was hoovered on a desk. The old man hadn’t noticed the boy. George slowly approached him.
“Are you a toy maker?” George asked him.
The old man’s hand that held a small wooden hammer stopped in mid air. He slowly turned around to see the boy. He had large glasses that were too large for him with an affable, wrinkly face.
“Who may I say is asking?” the old man smiled at the boy.
“I’m-I’m George Sanders.”
“Nice to meet you, George. As for your question, you can say I make toys,” he eyed around the room.
“My father told me about a toy maker that use to deliver toys.”
“Is that so?” the old mans eyes twinkle.
George was all too excited to tell him the stories his father had told him, whether the old man believed him or not was another matter. George began to wonder if he was the toy maker, but he was too afraid to ask him. After a nice long talk with the old man, he said goodnight and went back to bed. He hoped to speak to him more some other time.
The next morning, George wondered if it was a dream. He dashed out of bed and hurried to the room he had encountered the old man, but when he got there the room was empty. All there was a desk and an a green oil lamp. George began to doubt his memories. When he asked the Lord about the old toy maker, the Lord snorted at him.
“No one lives here, but me,” the Lord said. “You must have mistaken what you saw.”
“I didn’t,” refuted George. “I did see him. In that room, where he kept all the toys he made. There was desk and this green oil lamp.”
“Green oil lamp!” The Lord was surprised to hear.
But, George couldn’t believe it, didn’t want it to be true. He knew what he saw.