Mine was the fateful fortune to be chosen by the man with a proud walk and a firm hand. He walked straight towards me and didn’t hesitate to lift me into his arm. Up until that point, after consciousness awoke in me, I had been greatly anticipating the day I would be taken to a real home.
I’d heard about the children that adored their toys and greatly desired to be in such company. I wanted to be cherished, to be loved. It never occurred to me that I was being recruited to be the principal object of desire for two strong headed children who each wanted me all to their own. They used to engage in horrific pushing, screaming, chasing cat fighting battles, which would only end when one of them would relent to my claim by way of crying inconsolably. I suffered many heart breaks back then. I would be ripped apart from loving hugs and tears of sorrow from my young master. I know now that he would have been the better choice in fulfilling my desires to be appreciated the way I’d heard before. Eventually, the viciousness of my spoiled-girl-master and her superior cat fighting skills inflicted so many life scarring wounds on her little brother that it was agreed by the Great Powers the Be, that I would stay in her possession eternally.
I watch my eternal master-tormentor play with every other toy, but, me? Sadly I was a mere trophy to be displayed prominently on her pillow bed. I was bait. If my little master got caught with me in his possession, there was no sound barrier that would protect us both from a screaming fit that left us shaking in rage, fear and inconsolable grief. All too soon, he gave up any attempt to be with me, but occasionally when she wasn’t around, we would spend time together. It was a personal victory for both of us, the memory of which continues to be my comfort and the sole visitor in my captivity.
And so I remain trapped in a box. I remain forgotten and desolate. I travel with my She-master every place she goes and then, she shoves me back in her “personal treasures” box. The ear I lost in a battle lies by my side. It was never attempted to be sewn back together. Her own children only ever glanced at me a few times. She claimed I was her most priced and loved treasure, a vivid reminder that a common object can be the point of dissention between two siblings that should have grown up loving and cherishing one another. At least in that, we agree.
<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/toy-story/">Toy Story</a>
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