Chapter 5

The Puppet and The Dream

Ty stumbled to his room a few minutes later still in a complete daze. Did all of that really happen? He couldn't believe it. But a glance at the golden brick in his hand told him the truth.

He hopped into his bed, pulled his phone out of his pocket, and checked for text messages. There were none. That was unusual; Anna had been home for a good while now and this was when they would normally text the rest of the night.

He flipped his keyboard out, thumbs hovering over it at the ready. But no words came. What was he supposed to say? Was she expecting him to text her first? Or was she sitting in her room right now thinking all of the same things that he was?

He groaned and put his phone back in his pocket; this was just too much to deal with right now.

His eyes scanned the room for something to preoccupy his mind with, his gaze falling to the closet on the far side of the room. The closet had two sides, one for clothes and one full of things that he had been avoiding since the funeral. He threw open the right side, toys tumbling out in a mini avalanche. Most of them were made by his grandpa.

He tried not to look at the toys, ignoring them for the real target—one of the large plastic tubs stacked in the back. He lugged the top one down and carried it back to his bed, stepping over the childish mess he’d made.

He removed the lid and tipped it on its side, pouring the contents onto the bed and covering it with hundreds of LEGO. He got back into bed, avoiding sitting on them as best he could. It didn't quite work and he felt more plastic than mattress. But he didn't care, that's what he wanted. He picked up a few pieces and began to build.

He used to do this all the time, at least once a week. He would sit here, surrounded by bricks, and just let his imagination go free. Most of the time he had no idea what he wanted to build. Time would pass, he would look down, and suddenly something had taken shape.

Snap, snap, snap.

Pieces clicked into place. It was almost therapeutic for him; he could lose himself in the process. He hadn't touched them in so long because, for one, they were in that closet. But also because most of the bricks were given to him by his grandfather. Any other day recently, that would have haunted him, making it impossible for him to play with them for any length of time. But tonight... the familiarity is what he needed.

Ty could still remember his first LEGO set. He remembered ripping it open and dumping the contents onto the floor. Before opening the plastic bags that held the bricks, he’d picked up a big booklet that fell on top of the pile.

It was the instruction manual. He flipped through it, watching as step by step the picture on the box began to take form. He turned back to the first step, put the manual down, and set to work. To start with, he had to open the bag with the number one on it. Of course. He did so, and dumped it out. He completed all the steps for bag number one, and then was told to find the second bag, rinse and repeat.

By the third bag, he sighed, and said, “Grandpa, this is really boring.”

His grandfather was sitting on the couch behind Ty, watching his every move with great interest. His grandpa had been so excited about giving him the set that Ty thought he would have been disappointed to hear him call it boring. Instead, he was positively beaming.

“I had a feeling you might say that. Want some tips?” He moved in closer, almost falling forward off the couch.

Ty nodded.

“Put those directions away, you don't need those.”

Ty gave him a funny look. “How will I know how to build it?”

“You won't. Build what you want, not what some silly piece of paper wants you to build. Ready for the next tip?”

Ty nodded again as he closed the booklet.

This time, his grandfather got off the couch, bent down, opened the remaining plastic bags, and dumped them all into one pile. He mixed them around with his hand for good measure.

“Build whatever you want, however you want.”

Ty picked up the pieces again and in thirty minutes he had the first creation of his own—a futuristic-looking car—and his lifelong love of LEGO was born.

A knock at the door snapped him back to the present and threw off his rhythm, the object he was building—looking like a spacecraft at that point—fell out of his hands. He glared at the door. There was no way he was going to talk to his—

“Ty, it's me,” said his grandmother. “Are you still up?”

Hearing the sound of her voice brought to mind all the cruel things he said to her before, causing a wave of guilt to crash over him. He owed her far more than an apology.

“Yeah, I'm awake.”

She opened the door and slipped inside with her hands behind her back, hiding something. She had a pastel purple jacket on, a cheap one from K-Mart that might be as old as Ty. In the winter she hardly ever left the house without it.

“Hey kiddo, I was just about to head home... but I wanted to talk to you first.”

“I'm so sorry grandma...” Ty could feel tears building, though he tried to fight them back. “Those things I said, I—I didn't mean any of it.”

She sat down beside him, not minding the plastic mess and wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh sweetie, I know. Selling that store... that was the hardest decision I've ever had to make. But, now listen,” she lifted his chin up so she could look into his eyes. Ty stared back, unblinking. “Don't you ever think I did it because I want to forget your grandfather—Lord, if I forgot that man I would take my own life! Ty, I'm selling it because there's no way you and I could keep it afloat.”

She saw that Ty was thinking about protesting that fact again, so she quickly continued, “And that's fine. That store is just a building, Ty. The magic and memories come from your grandfather... and the treasures he made. We could never, ever make them like he could. No one could make them like him. Not even Santa Claus, I bet!”

Ty laughed. His grandma smiled back and kept talking, “We still have the toys he got to make. Did you honestly believe I was going to get rid of everything in the store, too? I'm not. They're the important things, not that little building.”

Of course she was right, he’d been too hasty, blowing everything out of proportion. He looked up at his grandma—who looked quite pleased to see Ty smiling for now—and said, “Can I help you pack the toys up? And grandpa's workshop things?”

“Why, of course! You know how much that tiny store can hold, I'll need all the help I can get! We'll start soon, but not tomorrow; it’s a special day after all. Which is part of why I’m here now.”

His birthday. He hadn't forgotten it this time. Still, he didn't get why everyone kept giving him presents tonight, especially after his big explosion in the store...

She pulled out what was behind her back, a large gift bag about the size of Ty's torso.

“I know it's early, but your grandfather would have insisted on giving it to you tonight.”

Puzzled, Ty took the package and reached inside. Sifting through the different colored tissue papers, he pulled out one of the most amazing things ever: a large, wooden puppet. He could tell immediately that his grandfather made it; no one else would have been able to craft a toy this beautiful and haunting, in a way.

Across his left eye, from top to bottom, was a scar. Below the eye, it became jagged, almost like a lightning bolt. Ty traced his finger along it as he looked into the puppet's eyes. They were made of glass, but of a quality and kind never seen before. The eyes looked bottomless, yet full of life; simultaneously frightening and fascinating.

Strange as it was, the mouth was only painted on, little more than a line straight across the lower part of its face with no way of making it move. Not only that, but he saw that there were also no strings.

No, that wasn't entirely true. Part of the reason he’d figured it for a puppet when he’d first seen it was because of the thin loops on parts of its body. When he handled it, the wooden pieces moved and clanked against one another, but he wasn't like a normal puppet; there were also thicker ropes inside the wooden limbs, connected and holding it all together.

Really, he wasn't actually much of a puppet at all.

His grandmother watched him, intrigued by his confusion.

He looked up from curiosity and asked, “Is he unfinished? Er, I mean, he is fantastic and all but—”

His grandmother cut him off, “No, he's very much finished, your grandfather made sure of that. He barely left his workshop once he started on him.”

“Then, where are the actual strings to make him move?” As the words left his mouth, he realized they had both been saying him, not it. That did not surprise him. In fact, to call him an “it” would have been the strange thing, the wrong thing.

“Your grandfather said he didn't need them. All of his actual strings had to be internal—he was very serious about that, but I don't know why.”

Ty nodded, a bit disappointed he wouldn’t get to know the full reason. He stared back at the puppet, examining his cloak more closely. It was black—as deep as the night—and made of the strangest fabric. It seemed to shimmer and move when the light caught it in just the right way, as if blown by a breeze. Or like it was alive.

Alive. That was the best way to describe the brilliant puppet. Ty half expected to feel a heartbeat from within his wooden chest. There was none, of course, but he remained anything but lifeless.

“Gentry,” his grandmother said quietly. “His name is Gentry.”

“Gentry,” Ty repeated. Strange name, but it fit the puppet.

He asked, “When did grandpa make him? I don't remember ever seeing him in the workshop...”

“The very moment your parents told us your mother was pregnant with you.”

That caught his attention.

“Are you serious?” Even as he asked he saw the glimmer in her eyes that said it was true.

“Yes, I am! And when he finished it? The day you were born.”

Ty glanced back at the puppet, unable to look away from him for long and because he was determined to hold back those stubborn tears.

“He shares the same birthday as you. Your grandfather decided to give him to you when you were old enough; when you could appreciate him. He was afraid of a toddler covering a wooden puppet with bite marks and dismantling his limbs.”

Ty laughed again. Why was it that this most draining and confusing day was still the happiest in weeks?

His grandma yawned and changed her sitting position, the bricks rolling after her. She picked up a handful. “It's good to see you playing with these again. Your grandpa always said that you could build a whole new world out of LEGO; much better than the one we have.”

“He... he never told me that.”

“I am his wife! It's only fair that he share some of his secrets with me—you can't hog them all.”

She stood up, leaned down, and kissed him on the forehead. “I love you, Ty. I'll be back in the morning.”

“Night, grandma.” He gave her a hug. “I love you, too. Thanks for my present.”

“You’re welcome, my dear.” She returned the hug, then walked out the door, pausing to add with a smile, “Sweet dreams,” before closing the door softly behind her.

After she left, he sat with Gentry for a time. He’d watched his grandfather make probably thousands of toys and, out of all of them, what Ty held in his hands was unquestionably his masterwork. Which he’d made for Ty. And finished on the day he was born. It was like having a brother he never knew about.

Ty got up and placed Gentry on top of his dresser, where he would never be too far out of reach.

Next, Ty moved the plastic tub to the edge of the bed and gathered the bricks up, pushing them off and letting them fall into the container. He snapped the lid back on and left it, telling himself he would put it back up in the morning.

As he got into bed, Ty took his phone back out, and stared at it. The time flashed at him from the bottom of the screen. It was close to midnight, and Anna still hadn't sent him anything. He went to put his phone down, then stopped. Brought it back up, put it back down. Up, down. Up... down. Up—

Enough!

He flipped the keyboard back out and hammered away at the buttons, typing out a message and pressing send before he could try and stop himself. It simply said:

Good night Anna

No confessions of love, no well thought out, novel-length text explaining all of his feelings for her in the most elegant way possible. None of that; just three stupid words.

And he hadn't even bothered to punctuate it properly.

He buried his face in his pillow, regretting ever sending the—

His phone buzzed and his hand grabbed it so fast he might as well have been magnetized to it. He had a new text:

Night, Ty. Sweet dreams. <3

Why did she have to add that? His own heart started doing weird things that he didn't like, sending him confusing signals. Was he happy about that extra little emoticon? Annoyed by it? Should he have sent some lovey-dovey thing, too?

He shoved his head into his pillow again until his thoughts stopped mindlessly circling and contradicting themselves. He didn’t know what to think, so he wasn't going to. This, too, he would deal with tomorrow.

His brain didn't listen to him. He worried and wondered about Anna until he finally eventually drifted off to sleep.

Gentry's unmoving eyes watched over the sleeping boy long into the night.

#

A bright light suddenly flicked on. Ty tried to pull the covers over his head to block it out, but they weren't there. Nor, judging by the hard surface below him, was his bed.

Ty's eyes opened and he was greeted not by the soft lights of his room and the sun streaming in through the window, but a different, blinding brightness from all directions. Something was very wrong.

He sat up, opening and closing his eyes until they adjusted enough to take a look around at... nothing. If it wasn't for the fact he was physically sitting on it, he would have thought the whiteness below him was a bottomless abyss.

Suddenly, a tall, old man appeared in front of him, materializing out of the light. He was dressed like a wizard: long white cloak and a white beard to match, hiding most of his facial features and spilling down over his chest. His hat was standard wizard fare, except for a pair of strange goggles that rested along the rim. He wore it low, so that his eyes were obstructed from view. His staff came up to about shoulder length, and was the only object he owned that wasn't white, but light brown. The wooden staff had strange swirls and other peculiar designs carved into it. A cluster of gears sat atop it, though the mechanism didn’t actually move.

“Welcome!” The man boomed, making Ty jump and scoot away. Potential wizard ignored this and continued, “You're Ty, correct? Twelve years old.”

He said it as if reading it from a sheet of paper, like a doctor, or a new teacher.

“Y-yes.” Then, thinking about the question, “Well, my age depends on what time it is.”

The man laughed, a happy and kind laugh, devoid of the edge of insanity Ty would have expected from someone who dressed like that outside a comic convention. He relaxed a little.

Regaining his composure, the man continued again, “Yes, that is a very good point. But here, time becomes… strange. You'll see what I mean soon enough.” He winked and then clapped his hands together, his staff mysteriously staying up on its own. “So! Let us just assume you are twelve.”

Ty quickly jumped to the more important subject, “Sir, where am I?”

“I'm afraid you're in a place with no name. Purpose, it has in spades—that is what’s important. And, I assure you, its purpose is to help you.” Ty tried to speak, but the man pressed on, “Tell me: in a story, what makes a character change?”

Ty just looked at him. “Uh...”

“Conflict, Ty, conflict. Trials, loss, a villain, a challenge. And so it is true with men and women... boys and girls. In order to better ourselves, we must stand up and overcome our fears, our weaknesses, and even our very self.

“I wish you luck, my boy.”

A loud crack split through the white room, making Ty jump to his feet as quickly as possible. To his horror, the floor beneath him broke apart, like a frozen lake in the movies he’d seen. The walls followed suit, shattering as if made of glass. Beneath the white was never-ending darkness.

“What's going on?” Ty yelled over the chaos as the room continued falling apart around him.

“The start of your trials!” The man said when the last of the floor gave way and Ty fell into the abyss.

The wizard watched the boy plummet, safe upon his invisible perch.