Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Timmy. You see Timmy believed that toys could talk to him. Maybe his parents played with him to much with him when he was little, and now he thought that toys were real people.


No matter how many times his parents told him otherwise, he still talked to toys almost all the time. Stuffed animals, action figures, little dolls, toy trains; it didn’t matter, Timmy talked to them.


His parents got worried, as any should have. They called doctors, friends, family members, but none could help. Timmy still talked to the toys, and responded as if they talked back. One night, he was chatting with a Barbie doll (as usual) when his father had enough of this nonsense. He took away all of Timmy’s toys, leaving him with no one to talk to.


Frustrated, but above all lonely, Timmy wept for hours. Then, from under his bed, he heard a peep. Peering under the dusty mattress, he saw a little toy soldier under it, wheezing and coughing from the dust. Pulling it out, Timmy began to talk to it. However, after a few minutes, his father overheard him, and took the toy away.


As his father left with the toy soldier in hand, Timmy muttered under his breath into his pillow, “I wish my parents would go away.” The soft whisper did not reach his father’s ears, but they did reach the toy soldier’s.


Timmy woke up, hearing a banging noise from downstairs. He flew down the stairs, and saw his parents on the floor. The toy soldier stood there, his little rifle smoking. Turning to Timmy, he spoke in a robotic voice, “They are gone Timmy, as you wished.”


Timmy rejoiced, at first. For finally, he could talk the all his toys...! Only to find that his father had thrown them away, and he could not get them back. He also realized he could not reach the pantry shelves, or get himself water, or anything. And most of all, he missed his mother’s soft hand, comforting him when he was frightened.


The toy soldier said to him, “Timmy, I can be your friend. Who needs those other toys, or your parents?” But Timmy sniffed back a tear, and with all the strength he had, he flung the toy soldier to the ground, breaking his wooden body into dozens of pieces.


The soldier’s mouth, which was partially intact, croaked, “B-b-but, w-we could have b-b-been f-friends...” And with that, it’s eyes slowly faded. Timmy sat down, and slowly cried to death, losing all will to live...






Later, local authorities are baffled at (and still are) how three people died, two from tiny little gunshots, and one from... nothing. But one person does, one who resides on the North Pole. Ol’ Santa Claus knew of that toy, and why it was so dangerous. For you see, it came from his toy shop. It was a malfunctioned toy, one who’s sole purpose was to kill. He had sent his best Elves after that one, but it had already been destroyed, but had already dealt much damage...






Thus ends the story of Timmy, and of how he died. And remember, if you see a toy soldier, it might not be just fake, it may be alive, posed to strike at the perfect moment...