Monsters Have Hearts

The air in Seth Eaton's small toy shop was thick with the scent of plastic and possibility, a stark contrast to the sterile quiet of the factory he’d left behind years ago. He was idly flipping through a magazine when the mailman, Joe, handed him the day’s deliveries.

Junk, bills, more junk. Then, a package with the unmistakable Playtime Co. logo.

His heart gave a strange lurch. They’d been out of business for a decade. Inside, a yellow VHS tape and a cryptic note. A knot formed in his stomach. Not everyone in that factory was a monster, he thought, recalling the 'toys' he'd once cared for. They needed help.

With a note hastily scribbled for his neighbors, Seth was on the road. The familiar, rusted gates of Playtime Co. loomed, surprisingly unlocked. He climbed over, a sense of foreboding settling over him as he stepped into the silent, dust-filled factory.

The gift shop, the Playstation, the eerie quiet. Everything was still, yet alive with an unspoken history. He found a blue tape, inserted it, and the old monitors flickered to life. The wall opened, revealing a familiar tool: a GrabPack. He strapped it on, feeling the weight of the past.

Then, he noticed it. The GrabPack was missing a hand. "Oh, come on! Gotta be around here somewhere."

He opened the next door, and there, in the dim light of the hall, was a familiar blue silhouette. Huggy Wuggy.

"Hey Huggy! How you doing? Sorry I'm late."

Seth waited, then extended his GrabPack arm. "High five!"

The arm shot out, connecting with Huggy's massive hand. And then, Huggy slowly moved. A wide, familiar smile spread across his face.

"Hey buddy," Seth said, a lump forming in his throat. Huggy pulled him into a tight embrace. "Yeah, I missed you too!"

He pulled away, a question in his eyes. "Say, what happened here?"

Huggy stepped back, covering his face. The gesture was clear. "Oh, that bad, huh?"

Huggy nodded, his large black eyes filled with a silent sadness.