EllieInChainz
Awake, but sleepy...
♔ Champion ♔
- Local time
- Today 3:43 PM
- Messages
- 2,902
- Age
- 33
- Pronouns
- She/Her
The small rocking horse workshop was empty apart for the two-score, beautiful, hand-made, wooden rocking horses that still smelled of freshly painted lacquer. As Cinnamon looked over the last one she noticed with horror that she had forgotten to paint the pupils on the final horses eyes, flat white orbs glared at her and gave her the heebie-jeebies.
"Oh glittering star sparkles!" She cursed as she wandered over to get her paint. Suppressing a shudder at her almost critical error.
The problem was that kids just didn't enjoy the old wooden toys anymore. The wooden block shop had closed a decade ago and wooden trains were rumoured to be next. In its heyday the rocking horse workshop had been the place to work. Scores of Elves had toiled away and it had been the pride of the North Pole. Now it was just Cinnamon and she hadn't really struggled to get the orders ready. Bearing any mix-ups in the sorting office all of the letters had been delivered already for the year. (Yes time worked differently in the North Pole, so even late letters from children were usually made by November.) Then there was time for the QA department to check everything over and catch anything, like missing pupils on rocking horses.
Cinnamon sat down on her little red wooden stool and took a deep swig of her hot cocoa, swinging her legs as she admired her work. Sure, there were only forty, but she had made them all herself.
She was rudely interrupted as the door crashed open and a very old Elf master entered with a bright blue clipboard. His grey beard so long he nearly tripped over it. He adjusted his pince-nez spectacles and read off a list.
"Cinnamon Pumpernickel?" He called out, without looking up at her.
"Yes?" She said meekly.
"Is your assigned task completed?"
She just pointed at the beautifully carved, hand painted horses.
"Well?" He asked, his tone impatient.
"Yes! Yes! You can see they clearly are!"
"Good, good. Your department is being closed Cinnamon, you are to be reassigned." He turned and started to leave.
Cinnamon hastily got up and caught up with him, almost falling off her stool then tripping over her curly-toed little shoes as she hurried to catch him.
"Wait! You're closing rocking horses!?"
"Yes, they are less popular now. We have many valid projects. The wooden horses will be outsourced, you know we have contracts with Hasbro and Mattel now."
"But... But!"
"But what junior toymaker?" He had used her rank as a warning to back off. This ancient specimen was several ranks above her and could easily have her reassigned to the tooth fairy if she wasn't careful.
No one wanted to work in teeth. It was just... Icky...
"Please sir, I... The horses... I... I've only made horses for three centuries now... I... I... I don't know how to do anything else..." She started to tear up and choked as a sob escaped. Cinnamon loved her job, and to have it so cruelly taken from her, without any pomp or ceremony, there hadn't even been a warning on the Elf Network. The older Elf turned with annoyance, then saw her pretty little face, all red, swollen and snotty as tears rolled down her cheeks. he reached out and put a gnarled hand on her slender shoulder.
"Oh Cinnamon... I am not without a heart, I too once worked in Horses, and wooden tops, strings o' bells, but toys move on. They are developed by us, then outsourced or replaced as human children have different interests." He sighed, leading her back to the counter, picked up a clean polishing cloth and dried her eyes then passed her the cup of cocoa.
"Nowadays children don't have an imagination, they no longer conjure up creatures of fantasy, or wild adventures, they don't play like they used to. They... Well... They're hard to please... Boring... Preferring to play on video games, or watch YouTube or TikTok, they use other's imaginations. It's the reason Santa invented the iPad and the PlayStation, he saw all of this coming..." He leaned in and whispered in her ear.
"Children as young as eight don't even believe in Saint Nicholas any more..."
Cinnamon's mouth dropped open.
"BY THE SAINTED TOYMAKER'S BEARD, SPARKLES!!" She exclaimed, dropping her cocoa.
She wasn't sure if the old Elf was more shocked by her dropping the mug or her profanity.
"Ahem... Yes exactly.... Well, shall we go?"
"Where are we going Master Elf?"
"To your new workshop, since most toys are outsourced we have to keep our Elves busy..,"
"Doing what?" She asked. But the old Elf just walked off with a chuckle.
He led her through the labyrinthine tunnels beneath the North Pole, despite his age Cinnamon's legs struggled to keep up with the older Elf. He soon came to the workshop doors and led her outside.
The North winds were blowing ferociously and Cinnamon had to duck into the wind, her adorable little Elf outfit getting blown all around her. The wind-blown snow whipping into her eyes was painful, and at times she lost sight of the venerable old Master. But he would stop and wait if she was blown off course. After an hour or so of walking through the snow-blasted winter wilderness he eventually stopped at a huge pair of featureless doors.
"Where are we?" She asked, having to shout over the wind. Her nose was glowing red and she clutched her arms to her little chest, rubbing herself to keep warm.
The old Elf ignored her and clapped twice, a small pedestal raised out of the snow. Using a candy cane he entered some kind of code. The great doors shimmered and an Elf sized door appeared, he just gestured at it. Cinnamon warily walked forwards and pushed on the tiny door, it yielded to her touch. shimmering then just opening. She cautiously stepped through.
Cinnamon stood in a sheer white room, dripping snow melt onto the polished white floor. An electronic voice rang out.
"Cinnamon Pumpernickel, born December 24th AD 1644"
"Yes? Who is that?"
"Change."
A locker seemed to appear out of the white wall, inside was a set of coveralls, in plain white without pattern and a little pork pie hat, along with little white slip-on shoes, she looked at the plain outfit, it looked nothing like her adorable Elf outfit. The only decoration was a stylised "T" ion the left breast.
"Into this? But it's... Well... It's boring." She complained.
"Change! Cinnamon Pumpernickel!"
Without further complaint she carefully stripped off, folded her adorable red and green clothes, and got changed into the new outfit, tucking her long red hair into the hat. The outfit was light and airy and clung a little to her damp skin.
"Good, proceed!"
Another door shimmered and appeared and Cinnamon bravely stepped through it, what she saw on the other side took her breath away.
Before her was a huge factory, assembly lines manned by Elves wearing the same white outfits that she had on were everywhere. Huge machines and conveyor belts with robot arms, smelting processes and even Elven Magical vats. Everything from engineers to machine operators, panel beaters to polishers. As she watched a finished product rolled off the line, an Elf in white sat on top guiding it with a small device. The product was a huge white vehicle, she believed they were called cars, but it was almost silent, like it ran on magic.
"GoodGraciousReindeerCrapspackledspanglefartglisteningjizztrumpet!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide. A flustered looking Elf approached hurriedly, he had a goatee beard, thick glasses and a flustered-looking expression.
"Cinnamon?" He asked, even his voice was dull.
"Uhmm yes?"
"Yeah that'll have to change. Mister Musk doesn't like Elf names, use Cinna for now. I'm Mr Stevens, your new boss..."
The gravity of it all hit her and tears rolled down Cinnamon's face. Mr Stevens quickly caught them in a little tube. She put a hand to her cheek and looked at him questioningly.
"You work at Tesla now Cinna, and those things run on Elf tears, we don't waste a drop. Oh and mind the language, you get the first one for free. But after that the punishments are severe. Mr Musk doesn't like potty-mouthed Elves."
"Oh Sparkles..." She muttered, for the very last time.
FIN
(Yes Tesla's run on the misery of Elves, remember that!
)
"Oh glittering star sparkles!" She cursed as she wandered over to get her paint. Suppressing a shudder at her almost critical error.
The problem was that kids just didn't enjoy the old wooden toys anymore. The wooden block shop had closed a decade ago and wooden trains were rumoured to be next. In its heyday the rocking horse workshop had been the place to work. Scores of Elves had toiled away and it had been the pride of the North Pole. Now it was just Cinnamon and she hadn't really struggled to get the orders ready. Bearing any mix-ups in the sorting office all of the letters had been delivered already for the year. (Yes time worked differently in the North Pole, so even late letters from children were usually made by November.) Then there was time for the QA department to check everything over and catch anything, like missing pupils on rocking horses.
Cinnamon sat down on her little red wooden stool and took a deep swig of her hot cocoa, swinging her legs as she admired her work. Sure, there were only forty, but she had made them all herself.
She was rudely interrupted as the door crashed open and a very old Elf master entered with a bright blue clipboard. His grey beard so long he nearly tripped over it. He adjusted his pince-nez spectacles and read off a list.
"Cinnamon Pumpernickel?" He called out, without looking up at her.
"Yes?" She said meekly.
"Is your assigned task completed?"
She just pointed at the beautifully carved, hand painted horses.
"Well?" He asked, his tone impatient.
"Yes! Yes! You can see they clearly are!"
"Good, good. Your department is being closed Cinnamon, you are to be reassigned." He turned and started to leave.
Cinnamon hastily got up and caught up with him, almost falling off her stool then tripping over her curly-toed little shoes as she hurried to catch him.
"Wait! You're closing rocking horses!?"
"Yes, they are less popular now. We have many valid projects. The wooden horses will be outsourced, you know we have contracts with Hasbro and Mattel now."
"But... But!"
"But what junior toymaker?" He had used her rank as a warning to back off. This ancient specimen was several ranks above her and could easily have her reassigned to the tooth fairy if she wasn't careful.
No one wanted to work in teeth. It was just... Icky...
"Please sir, I... The horses... I... I've only made horses for three centuries now... I... I... I don't know how to do anything else..." She started to tear up and choked as a sob escaped. Cinnamon loved her job, and to have it so cruelly taken from her, without any pomp or ceremony, there hadn't even been a warning on the Elf Network. The older Elf turned with annoyance, then saw her pretty little face, all red, swollen and snotty as tears rolled down her cheeks. he reached out and put a gnarled hand on her slender shoulder.
"Oh Cinnamon... I am not without a heart, I too once worked in Horses, and wooden tops, strings o' bells, but toys move on. They are developed by us, then outsourced or replaced as human children have different interests." He sighed, leading her back to the counter, picked up a clean polishing cloth and dried her eyes then passed her the cup of cocoa.
"Nowadays children don't have an imagination, they no longer conjure up creatures of fantasy, or wild adventures, they don't play like they used to. They... Well... They're hard to please... Boring... Preferring to play on video games, or watch YouTube or TikTok, they use other's imaginations. It's the reason Santa invented the iPad and the PlayStation, he saw all of this coming..." He leaned in and whispered in her ear.
"Children as young as eight don't even believe in Saint Nicholas any more..."
Cinnamon's mouth dropped open.
"BY THE SAINTED TOYMAKER'S BEARD, SPARKLES!!" She exclaimed, dropping her cocoa.
She wasn't sure if the old Elf was more shocked by her dropping the mug or her profanity.
"Ahem... Yes exactly.... Well, shall we go?"
"Where are we going Master Elf?"
"To your new workshop, since most toys are outsourced we have to keep our Elves busy..,"
"Doing what?" She asked. But the old Elf just walked off with a chuckle.
He led her through the labyrinthine tunnels beneath the North Pole, despite his age Cinnamon's legs struggled to keep up with the older Elf. He soon came to the workshop doors and led her outside.
The North winds were blowing ferociously and Cinnamon had to duck into the wind, her adorable little Elf outfit getting blown all around her. The wind-blown snow whipping into her eyes was painful, and at times she lost sight of the venerable old Master. But he would stop and wait if she was blown off course. After an hour or so of walking through the snow-blasted winter wilderness he eventually stopped at a huge pair of featureless doors.
"Where are we?" She asked, having to shout over the wind. Her nose was glowing red and she clutched her arms to her little chest, rubbing herself to keep warm.
The old Elf ignored her and clapped twice, a small pedestal raised out of the snow. Using a candy cane he entered some kind of code. The great doors shimmered and an Elf sized door appeared, he just gestured at it. Cinnamon warily walked forwards and pushed on the tiny door, it yielded to her touch. shimmering then just opening. She cautiously stepped through.
Cinnamon stood in a sheer white room, dripping snow melt onto the polished white floor. An electronic voice rang out.
"Cinnamon Pumpernickel, born December 24th AD 1644"
"Yes? Who is that?"
"Change."
A locker seemed to appear out of the white wall, inside was a set of coveralls, in plain white without pattern and a little pork pie hat, along with little white slip-on shoes, she looked at the plain outfit, it looked nothing like her adorable Elf outfit. The only decoration was a stylised "T" ion the left breast.
"Into this? But it's... Well... It's boring." She complained.
"Change! Cinnamon Pumpernickel!"
Without further complaint she carefully stripped off, folded her adorable red and green clothes, and got changed into the new outfit, tucking her long red hair into the hat. The outfit was light and airy and clung a little to her damp skin.
"Good, proceed!"
Another door shimmered and appeared and Cinnamon bravely stepped through it, what she saw on the other side took her breath away.
Before her was a huge factory, assembly lines manned by Elves wearing the same white outfits that she had on were everywhere. Huge machines and conveyor belts with robot arms, smelting processes and even Elven Magical vats. Everything from engineers to machine operators, panel beaters to polishers. As she watched a finished product rolled off the line, an Elf in white sat on top guiding it with a small device. The product was a huge white vehicle, she believed they were called cars, but it was almost silent, like it ran on magic.
"GoodGraciousReindeerCrapspackledspanglefartglisteningjizztrumpet!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide. A flustered looking Elf approached hurriedly, he had a goatee beard, thick glasses and a flustered-looking expression.
"Cinnamon?" He asked, even his voice was dull.
"Uhmm yes?"
"Yeah that'll have to change. Mister Musk doesn't like Elf names, use Cinna for now. I'm Mr Stevens, your new boss..."
The gravity of it all hit her and tears rolled down Cinnamon's face. Mr Stevens quickly caught them in a little tube. She put a hand to her cheek and looked at him questioningly.
"You work at Tesla now Cinna, and those things run on Elf tears, we don't waste a drop. Oh and mind the language, you get the first one for free. But after that the punishments are severe. Mr Musk doesn't like potty-mouthed Elves."
"Oh Sparkles..." She muttered, for the very last time.
FIN
(Yes Tesla's run on the misery of Elves, remember that!
)
Last edited: