On a Toy Museum shelf brooded a mechanical dragon, Boswell, hoarding the potential energy in his spring. Below, hidden from view, rested a rag doll with yarn-yellow braids, and blue, button eyes, Elena.

“Once,” Elena said, “A little girl loved me.”

“Why no more?”

“My face isn’t glossy. My eyes don’t blink. I only stare at that window.”

“Come with me. I love you.” Boswell’s clockworks ticked.

“I don’t have wings or springs. I’m a poor bride.”

“I’ll fly for us.”

Elena’s stuffing-wool heart beat. “Could we?”

“Tonight,” Boswell promised.

When the moon shone, Boswell unfurled his wings and alighted on Elena’s shelf.

“My heart!” Boswell hadn’t imagined Elena so beautiful. He lifted her to his back and leaped toward the window.

“We’re flying!” Elena’s button eyes gleamed.

Boswell crashed, hit the glass. His wings flailed. Elena screamed. They plummeted to the floor. Elena’s rags were unscathed, but Boswell broke in three places and had used the last of his spring’s energy.

“Are you okay?” Elena asked.

“Been better,” he said bravely.


Sunday Photo Fiction: 200-word stories

photo prompt: Jade M. Wong