Why are we made?

Is it only for the fun of little children?

Or only to sit as show pieces?

Why are we made?…

For the last six months I have stayed cramped in this narrow cupboard waiting for someone to notice me and use me for what I have been made. It’s so stuffy that I cannot even move my wings anymore. A crystal globe beside me cracked just a while ago, and I fear that if I’m not released fast from here then my wings would also perish. It all started from a factory. The first thing that I remember is when my head was made.

Slowly as I went through the sometimes humming and at time thumping machinery, I got my legs one by one and then a single horn. The last thing that I got were a set of beautiful purple wings. I was packed in a box with others like me who were born in the factory and was shipped to a store far, far away from the factory.

We all almost felt like we had been forgotten for it had been so long since we last saw the daylight but one day suddenly the box opened and we were placed neatly on wooden shelves. Each one of us were given a tag and price and so my nightmare began.

I was one of those toys that were supposed to be popular, but people would come, look at me, try to make me fly by turning the key, but nothing would happen. Only once in a while my wings would flutter very fast scaring of the children and getting me rejected, but that is all that would happen.

Soon the store owner noticed these events and decided that I was no longer needed and as a result here I am now stacked up in the cupboard of useless junk.

This was not what I had been made for. I had been made to fly and make children happy, yet, here I was struggling just to keep myself from breaking. On thinking about it a lot I finally resigned to the situation.

Maybe I was actually, really, indeed useless. I had been made with so much care in the factory. I could tell just by how they had held me. I had been placed so lovingly on the start shelves of the shop, I could tell just by how skeptically the shop owner decided my position. I had been given everything yet I failed to pass as a good toy. Maybe I was indeed not needed in this world.

TING TING

The bell on the shop’s door jingled as a little girl walked in quietly.

“Is the new unicorn figure still available?” she asked the shopkeeper while stretching herself out soon her toes so that she could get a look at his face from behind the desk.

“Sorry sweet-heart but all of them got sold real fast”

“Oh… but I really wanted one…” The little girl lowered her head in disappointment.

‘I am sorry I am useless’ I apologized to the little girl silently. If only I could do what I was made for then I could make her happy.

“Well… there is just one figure left but that one doesn’t actually work properly. You want to take a look?” the shopkeeper beckoned the girl towards the small cramped up cupboard I was in.

The shopkeeper opened the cupboard and pulled me out. Oh no! This was bad! If the little girl saw her favorite toy was broken then I would make her sadder. But honestly, even if she found out that I was broken, I was happy that ii got to get out of that cupboard once again, at least once.

Maybe if I don’t work again then the shopkeeper would through me away in the dustbin and I would be trashed beyond repair. So right now, as the little girl is holding on to me, I cannot help but feel happy.

This is probably the last chance I’ll get to prove myself and even if I fail I am glad I could get this single chance once again.

After all no one can understand how it feels to not be able to do the sole thing that you had been made for.

The little girl gently turned the key and put me on the ground for a test run. As I feared I stayed put. My wings remained frozen in place.

“I guess it is totally broken. Sorry dear. I’ll get the new stock by next week. You can come by then and bye whatever you want. There will be new unicorns” the shopkeeper started bending down to pick me up but the girl kept looking at me intently.

“Uncle, I think something is wrong here. Look the tag is stuck!”

The girl got up and went up to the front desk and returned with a sharp pair of scissors.

“What tag?” the shopkeeper adjusted his old round spectacles to get a closer look of what the girl was talking about. She used the scissors swiftly to cut-off the price tag between my leg and left wing and suddenly my wings started fluttering uncontrollably. I couldn’t believe it. This was the first time my wings had moved so… so effortlessly. Maybe it was a former stalking up of key movements, my wings kept fluttering for quite some time.

“Wow looks like it is making up for all the times it couldn’t make the flight” laughed the shopkeeper and the girl joined him. You know what I laughed to in my heart. He was right! I felt like I could go on forever!

I wish someone would have noticed my obstacle before but then I might not have realized the actual worth of my wings.

 

Moral

Everyone is special and equal. One just needs the right opportunity. Some souls need their own time to fly off the runway. Don’t de-moralize people who are having a tough time proving themselves. Everyone is desperately trying to fit in so it is our duty to cut off their obstacles and help them move forward with us.

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