The Sock Monkey Chronicles

Wildred Wiltern was not a typical sock monkey. He always dreamed of being ... better.

He was tattered, his seams were coming undone, he had stains that wouldn't leave his fabric and he had to be re-stitched several times (and not very well!) by his owner, Layla, to keep him in working sock monkey order. Yet, he still persevered through adversity and hardship.

This is his story...

Chapter 1

Wildred Wiltern, or "Sir Wiltern" as he liked to call himself, felt that his life was in shambles, he was an old sock monkey. He was twenty five years old (which was a long time in sock monkey years), and he felt that he had seen much better days in his long sock monkey life.

It all began three weeks ago. His life took a dreadful turn for the worse one warm, Sunday afternoon. The leaves rustled in the trees and the soft breeze from outside gently drifted in through the window that was kept cracked to keep the room fresh. Sir Wiltern slept in his favorite laundry basket and dreamed of typical things that sock monkeys dreamed of.

That night, he dreamed that he ate a big, delicious bowl of strawberry ice cream with Layla in a beautiful ice cream shop. He smiled with his big red fabric lips as he watched Layla eat her ice cream with pleasure and then she offered him a taste of hers and he returned the favor. It was a wonderful dream.

This heavenly dream, however, was quickly interrupted. Suddenly, he was picked up and jostled about as if he were a common object and not the highly esteemed sock monkey that he was. He thought it was the rudest awakening ever.

"What in heavens is going on!" he yelled and looked around frantically and was surprised when he saw nothing but darkness. Sir Wiltern had forgotten that he had a sleeping mask on.

By the time he removed his black, velvet mask to reveal his blue stitched eyes, he was quite surprised when he still couldn't see anything!

Being the smart sock monkey that he was, he quickly realized that he was trapped in a big, black trash bag, enveloped in darkness and stuffed along with the old, smelly laundry that he was sleeping on top of. He suddenly became aware of the unwise choice he made in choosing that sleeping spot.

At first, he thought it was a mistake. "Help me, help me!" he cried out into the stuffy darkness of stinky clothes. "Layla, Layla! It's me, Sir Wiltern! Can you hear me? Hello?" But there was no answer, only muffled sounds that he couldn't make out.

Panicked, Sir Wiltern came to the quick conclusion that he was given up by his Layla, and he didn't know why.

"Oh cruel fate!" he yelled out loud to no one in particular and his shoulders slumped, they felt so heavy all of a sudden. Not even the smelly clothes could help divert his attention. How could this have happened and why didn't he recognize the signs?

Hadn't he been a good, faithful sock monkey all those years to Layla? Suddenly, Sir Wiltern was so afraid. In the past he had heard some horrible fabric tingling stories about fires, garage sales as well as the dreaded missing toy cases!

Was he headed for the chopping block as well?