The Indian in the Cupboard

“That was the key to my grandmother’s jewel box, that she got from Florence. It was made of red leather and it fell to bits at last, but she kept the key and gave it to me. She was most terribly poor when she died, poor old sweetie, and kept crying because she had nothing to leave me, so in the end I said I’d rather have this little key than all the jewels in the world. I threaded it on that bit of ribbon—it was much longer then—and hung it around my neck and told her I’d always wear it and remember her. And I did for a long time.”

The first hints of magic appear when Omri makes a birthday wish and it comes true. The elegant little key his mother gives him locks his cupboard door perfectly. There is a sense of some sort of power being handed down through the generations, producing amazing things in the boy’s future.

“‘Listen, I don’t know how it happened that you came to life, but it must be something to do with this cupboard, or perhaps the key—anyway, here you are, and I think you’re great, I don’t mind that you stabbed me, only please can I pick you up? After all, you are my Indian,’ he finished in a very reasonable tone.”

Omri tries to make sense of the miracle of a toy figurine come to life. He wants to befriend the tiny man, but he still sees him as a curio that he owns and not as a full person. Little Bear, however, knows full well what he is and will not tolerate any mistreatment.

“Although the Indian felt strong, Omri could sense how fragile he was, how easily an extra squeeze could injure him. He would have liked to feel him all over, his tiny arms and legs, his hair, his ears, almost too small to see—yet when he saw how the Indian, who was altogether in his power, faced him boldly and hid his fear, he lost all desire to handle him—he felt it was cruel, and insulting to the Indian, who was no longer his plaything but a person who had to be respected.”