Tackhammer's Toy Shop

By Wren Cox and Sidewalk Audio LLC

Will the most mischievous toy in the toy shop find his inner power in time to save Christmas for the whole village?

Excited to finally get their children, the toys in Tackhammer's Toy Shop are anxiously awaiting Christmas when their whole world is transformed by the arrival of a fairy. She brings the toys to li

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sidewalk Fiction Studio
• Release date: Dec 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9781962264044

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Derby was a small village where everyone knew each other, and they all knew Mr. Tackhammer, the devoted toymaker who had brought countless smiles to the faces of their children. As the last golden sliver of sun disappeared beyond the horizon on a winter afternoon, Timothy Tackhammer worked tirelessly in his enchanting toy shop on Main Street. The soft glow of lamplight seeped through the windowpanes.

Ah, there we go, my little soldier, whispered Tackhammer as he added the final brushstroke to the uniform of a tiny tin man. His calloused hands, hardened by years of careful craftsmanship, moved with surprising grace. Now, let’s see if you can march. He deftly wound the key at the back of the toy soldier, then set it down on his workbench. The wind-up figure sprang to life, its legs moving in perfect synchronization.

Bravo! Tackhammer clapped, his eyes crinkling with delight.

He moved on to his next creation, a beautiful porcelain doll with a cascade of raven curls. Dipping his fine brush into a palette of delicate colors, he painted the most intricate features onto her face.

Hello there, Miss Doll, he cooed softly. Would you like a little smile? With steady hands, he painted the corners of her mouth up into the sweetest of grins. There now, aren’t you just lovely?

Just then, the bell above the door tinkled, announcing the arrival of a customer. Tackhammer looked up from his work, surprised to see someone at such a late hour.

Good evening! he greeted warmly, straightening up and adjusting his spectacles. What can I help you with?

Mr. Tackhammer, said the man breathlessly, I’m in desperate need of a gift for my niece’s birthday tomorrow. Do you have any of your marvelous wind-up toys available?

Of course, my friend. Tackhammer beamed. I’ve just finished this little marching toy soldier. He’s quite a charmer, if I do say so myself.

Perfect! the man exclaimed, reaching for his wallet.

Tackhammer carefully wrapped the tin soldier in colorful paper. As the man left the shop with the soldier tucked under his arm, Timothy Tackhammer couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. Another child would wake up to a world of magic and wonder tomorrow morning.

In the hushed darkness of the toy shop, Mr. Tackhammer bent low over his workbench again, a single oil lamp casting flickering shadows on the walls. He squinted through his magnifying glass at the delicate face of a porcelain doll, his skilled hands carefully applying the tiniest of brushstrokes to form her rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes.

Almost there, my dear, he whispered, the words warm and soft as a lullaby. With painstaking precision, he added the finishing touches—a sprinkle of freckles across her nose, a gentle curve to her smiling lips. Tackhammer leaned back, admiring his handiwork with a fatherly pride.

Ah, there you are, he said, beaming at the doll.

Tackhammer set the doll aside to dry and moved on to the next toy—a wooden train that needed sanding and polishing. As he worked, he got lost in the rhythm of his craft.

Mr. Tackhammer? called a small voice, timid as a mouse. Startled, Tackhammer glanced up from his work to see a young girl peeking around the door of his shop. Her wide eyes were filled with wonder as she took in the rows of brightly colored playthings, each one more enchanting than the last.

Hello there, little one! Tackhammer greeted warmly, straightening up and wiping sawdust from his hands. What can I do for you today?

Um, the girl hesitated, wringing her hands nervously. I—I was wondering if I could see the puppet you’ve been working on? My friends told me about it . . .

Ah, yes! Tackhammer’s eyes twinkled as he reached for the marionette. This is Petunia, my latest creation. She has movable limbs and can dance, just like this, and he showed the girl how it worked.

Wow, the girl breathed, her face lighting up with awe. May I try?

Of course! Tackhammer handed her the controls, his own smile mirroring hers. Just give those strings a gentle tug, and she’ll come to life.

The girl danced Petunia around the shop, her laughter ringing like music.

Thank you, Mr. Tackhammer! She beamed, returning Petunia to him. I promise I’ll save up my pennies and come back for her.

Take your time, dear, Tackhammer assured her, tucking the puppet safely away. Petunia will be waiting for you when you’re ready.

With a final wave, the girl skipped out of the shop. Mr. Tackhammer waved goodbye.

Where did the time go? he wondered aloud, leaning against the counter. It felt like just yesterday he had opened the doors to his humble shop.

Tackhammer’s mind drifted back to his younger days, when he had fallen in love with a beautiful woman named Emily. They were inseparable, and he had envisioned a future full of laughter and children of their own. But life had other plans, and they were separated by circumstances beyond their control. He never married, and the dream of having children of his own faded away like an autumn leaf caught in the wind.

He turned back to the workbench, where an unfinished toy soldier waited for his skilled touch. As Tackhammer picked up his tools, he became lost in the intricate details of his craft again.

Alright, young soldier, he whispered to the wooden figure. Let’s get you ready to bring some magic into this world.

The bell above the door chimed a merry tune as Timothy Tackhammer locked up his toy shop for the night, the sound echoing cheerfully down Main Street. He turned to gaze at the colorful display of toys in the window, each one reflecting the glow of the gas lamps that illuminated the street. In the soft light, the delicate hand-painted faces of dolls seemed to come alive, their glass eyes twinkling with secrets.

Ah, my little friends, he whispered affectionately, you must all be ready for Christmas morning. And Tackhammer retreated back into the warm embrace of his workshop at the back of the toy shop, leaving behind the frosty air of the winter evening. It was late to be working, but the toys had to be ready for Christmas.

The moment he stepped back inside, Tackhammer was greeted by the familiar scent of sawdust and paint, a comforting aroma that enveloped him like a warm blanket. The room buzzed with the quiet energy of a thousand tiny worlds, waiting patiently for their chance to spark joy in the hearts