The Nutcracker’s Transformation
The great party had ended at the Silberhaus’ home. Clara lay huddled close to her mended Nutcracker, as she fell asleep on an overstuffed chair in the living room. She was clueless that the Bostonian King had filled the house with his army of disorganized terriers which tore through carpet and furnishings, and had shaken the children’s toys to pieces.
The King fiercely brandished his sword and then watched as the small bush in the corner grew magically into a giant spruce trimmed and lighted by Drosselmeier, Clara’s favorite uncle. He’d returned to the room emptied of guests to pick up his cloak and witnessed the damage caused by the militia of black and white Terriers. They began to bark, twirl and leap at each other aimlessly, and rolled on their backs amidst the chaos they’d created.
In a blink of an eye, Clara’s Nutcracker, who after growing 10 times its size by Drosselmeier, had marched over the broken debris with his army of hand-painted tin soldiers armed with swords and dressed for battle. The Nutcracker Prince fearlessly battled off the Bostonians who thought they were were there only to play, and never to fight. Whimpering, they ran this way and that, zooming through windows and doors to escape the professional militia, thus abandoning their King who lay lifeless on the floor.


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