Knitsqueak has a minion!

Mishka the Bobo

It is early in the morning and the little knitted mouse is finally ready to be put out for display. The shop is silent, but it is the sort of silence you know is good. An elderly man who smells of raspberries busies himself with arranging other animals on the counter. He appears to have decided to make the mouse, smallest of the lot, the centerpiece. Not that the mouse minds, of course - as long as she has her stuffed friends surrounding her, everything is going to be fine. The golden bell above the door twinkles, alerting the old man to a new customer in his shop. He stops arranging the moment he sees a pair of massive blue eyes staring at him from the other side of the counter.

"How can I help you, dear?" The old man asked.

The little girl stood silent for a moment, then her tiny hand reached out for the knitted mouse, her chubby fingers falling short from her target. The old man let out a hearty chuckle and handed the mouse to the girl.

"Do you like this one?" He asked.

The girl thought for a moment, looking at the mouse, unsure whether she did or not. Then she nodded once, two blonde ponytails bobbing from side to side.

"Put the mouse back, dear," said a dry voice from behind the girl. "You can't have it."

The owner of the little shop shifted his eyes from the girl, whose big round eyes filled with regret as she put the mouse back onto the wooden counter, to a stern woman standing just behind. The old man could tell that there was enough resemblance to make the pair a mother and a daughter, but he didn't like the woman straight away. She was too thin and pale, her eyes lifeless, cheeks hollow, and colourless lips pursed together made too narrow of a line. He was sure the woman was pretty back in her youth but she sure wasn't now. He deeply wished the child wouldn't come to suffer her mother's fate in her later years.

"Come, now, dear," the man said with the same sweet smile on his face. "A little toy like that would hurt no one."

The woman's face transformed into a pained grimace, startling the old man. Quickly he realized that she smiled.

"Little Milly here has enough toys as it is. Don't you, sweetness?" The woman asked Milly.

The old man noticed there was no love in the woman's dry voice, no glimmer of affection in her dull eyes. It was like she wasn't connecting the meaning of her words to the expression on her face. Milly lowered her eyes and gave the tiniest of the nods. Her little shoulders drooped.

"We came here to collect the life size Anyu Plush that was ordered in the name of Mrs Winker."

The old man was so mesmerized by the little girl that it took another moment for him to realise that the woman was speaking to him.

"Oh, yes, of course, right away, madam," he said, giving the woman a little bow before he hurried away to the back of the shop.

Once there, he had no trouble finding the Anyu Plush Mrs Winker mentioned. It took him whole week to get it done, and his hard work showed, for it was hard to tell it apart from the real bear. The old man was sure that it would be that little monstrosity of a boy getting the Plush. He wished he recognized the name before he agreed to take on the job when a maid came in two weeks ago to place an order.

With a heavy heart, he brought the Plush onto the shop floor.

"Thank you," Mrs Winker said, snatching the toy from the old man's hands before he had the chance to put it onto the counter for one final inspection. "I believe you have been paid for this?"

The old man nodded. "Yes, madam."

"Come, then, Milly," said Mrs Winker, snapping her fingers as if trying to catch attention of a dog and not a child.

The old man frowned. No, he wouldn't take any more orders from the family, no matter how much money they offered. He tried to give Milly a reassuring look when she gave last fleeting glance to the little mouse sitting on the counter. But Milly didn't see the smile, her attention going back to her mother when Mrs Winker grabber her daughter by the upper arm to drag the girl forcefully out of the shop.

The mouse sits on the counter, watching the door close behind the two customers, the little bell twinkling once more. With a sigh, the old man goes back to the toys on the counter, but his heart isn't in it anymore, so he gives up on trying to arrange the toys into organized chaotic display, and leaves the shop floor. The mouse is facing the window in which, behind letters on the glass declaring the shop to be Vanya's Workshop, it could see bright sunshine bouncing off the white of the snow. It is silent once again in the workshop but the fun seemed to have left together with Milly.


Name Text from here
Background Image from here