The City of Forgotten Toys
Where do all the lost toys actually go? Firlefanz sets out to find out!
Firlefanz woke up and heard something strange. It was softly rattling in the attic above his room. "What is that?" murmured Firlefanz, rubbing his eyes.
Firlefanz climbed the creaky ladder to the attic. There, among old boxes and dusty blankets, he found a small wooden train with chipped red paint. "I don't know you," whispered Firlefanz. "Where do you come from?"
In the kitchen, Firlefanz made himself a honey sandwich and warm milk. He placed the little train next to his plate. "I wonder if there are more forgotten toys?" he thought while chewing. "And where do they all go?"
Firlefanz ran to Papalapapp. He was sitting in his chair, drinking coffee. "Papalapapp, where do toys go when we forget them?" Papalapapp picked up the little train and smiled. "There is a city, far away and well hidden, where all the forgotten toys find a new home." He stood up. "I'll show you the way."
Firlefanz carefully packed the little train into his bag. He put on his green hat, laced up his boots, and took his walking stick. Papalapapp wrapped his scarf around himself and packed a bag of cookies. "Forgotten toys will surely be happy to have visitors."
They set off. Over seven seas, where the waves rocked old bottles back and forth. Over seven deserts, where the wind whistled soft melodies. Over seven mountains, seven rivers, seven forests, and seven blooming meadows. The further they went, the more little lost things lay by the roadside: a single crayon, a marble, a doll's shoe.
Behind a gentle hill, hidden among ancient trees, suddenly lay a small city. The houses were made of building blocks, the roofs from colorful paper, and the streets were paved with marbles. "The City of Forgotten Toys," whispered Papalapapp.
At the city gate, a large, old teddy bear with tiny glasses and a friendly smile was waiting. His fur was thin in some places, but his eyes shone warmly. "Welcome! I am Brummel, the mayor," he said in a deep, gentle voice. "Visitors are always welcome here."
Brummel showed them around the city. Stuffed animals ran a little shop where they traded buttons and ribbons. Wooden figures played tag in a square. An old doll with only one shoe read stories to the smaller toys. "No one is forgotten here," said Brummel. "Everyone has a place here."
Firlefanz took the little wooden train out of his bag. "I found him in my attic. Does he belong here?" Brummel's eyes became moist. "That's the little Red! He was here a long time ago, but one day he rolled away to see the world." He gently took the train in his paws. "Welcome home, little friend."
They all sat together in the marketplace and shared Papalapapp's cookies. The little Red happily drove in circles around them and tooted softly. The toys sang a lullaby that was so gentle that Firlefanz slowly closed his eyes.
As the stars shone over the little city, Papalapapp carried the sleeping Firlefanz home. Brummel waved goodbye to them. "Come visit us again soon!" And in Firlefanz's bag lay a tiny wooden cube that the toys had given him. So he would never forget them. And Firlefanz slept deeply and soundly and dreamed of a city where nothing and no one was forgotten.