The Thief of Broken Toys Read Online Free PDF Page B

thoughts:
stupid move,
show him I’m not scared, he’ll be startled, who is
he, what’s he doing up here, he knows about the
toy but he can’t, so he doesn’t he doesn’t know, and
I’m going closer even though
—
    â€œWho are you?” Ray asked again as his foot
hit the ground, and the man took a hasty step
backward. His eyes grew wider, and he stood
up straight. For the first time Ray noticed
the walking stick, and the way the man’s pale
hand was gripped around the handle. But
something about his expression was false. It
wasn’t quite a smile he wore, but it didn’t quite
vanish, either.
    â€œTold you, boy. Just an old man.”
    â€œOut in this storm?”
    â€œSo you going to give me the toy?”
    â€œI don’t recognize you from Skentipple.”
    â€œI don’t live down in the village,” the old
man said. “Go there sometimes, but got no
need to live there.” The wind continued to
blow, and rain hushed down all around them,
but the conversation was clear on both sides.
Ray had to raise his voice, but the man seemed
unconcerned.
    â€œSo where do you live?”
    â€œNear enough.” He looked Ray up and down
again, his gaze finally settling on the coat
pocket.
    â€œI’ve got no toy,” Ray said, harsher than
he’d intended.
    The man seemed to lose interest, turning to
look out to sea at where a ship’s lights blinked
on the horizon. He transferred his walking
stick from his left hand to his right, and
reached up to scratch his scalp. The movement
lifted the hood and, facing the moon, Ray saw
his face for the first time. He was extremely
old, skin creased and sagging from his face. His
eyes were wide and intelligent, but gravity and
time had pulled down the flesh around them,
giving him a permanently sad expression.
A few wisps of grey hair protruded from the
hood, and his chin and cheeks were white with
stubble. His jaw was strong, and Ray knew for
sure that he still had his own teeth.
    â€œYou should be getting home, then,” the
man said. “No need to be out on a night like
this when there’s sorting to be done.”
    â€œDid you walk from along the cliffs?” Ray
asked, nodding past the old man. It was at
least three miles to the next small village, up
and down treacherous and challenging paths
even in bright sunlight.
    â€œNo, son,” the old man said. “And . . . really,
I can mend it. You want me to. It’ll help.”
    â€œI told you, I don’t have a fucking toy for
you to fix! What is it with you? Don’t you
just — ” A more violent gust of wind roared in,
forcing rain almost horizontally before it, and
Ray turned from the sea. The rain struck his
back hard as driven hail, and when the gust
died down and he turned back to the old man,
he was just as he’d been before. Hood pulled
forward a little more, perhaps. Leaning a little
heavier on his cane. Ray didn’t think for a
moment that the man hadn’t felt the gust, but
he seemed completely unbothered by it.
    â€œJust keeping a promise will set you free,”
the old man said, and yet again his voice
carried through the storm. “Well, if you’re not
me, that is.” Then he turned and walked back
along the path.
    For a moment Ray considered going after
him, but what could he really gain? The guy
was obviously on another planet. He felt a
moment of concern and responsibility — the
old fool was walking along the cliffs, farther
into the wild, and the storm was gathering
strength — but he’d said he didn’t come from
the village anyway. Maybe he had a shack out
there somewhere, or a little hut hidden up on
the moors. Even though Ray and Elizabeth
had lived here for ten years, they were still
considered newcomers by some of Skentipple’s
oldest families, and perhaps this man was a
village secret.
    Ray ducked from another withering blast
of wind and rain, and when he