The Toy

The Toy
(for dad)

Boris stood watching over the Great Pyramid, observing the commotion from below as men and women ran in panic. The Descendants of Anubis, as they called themselves, had ravaged another village, and Boris had to keep watch. Soldiers from neighboring cities had come to fight them, but they would not defeat the Descendants of Anubis because they held a secret: they were werewolves.
Boris had once enjoyed being a soldier in this great army, participating in battles, pillaging, and stealing for what he believed to be the greater good. However, he slowly realized that theDescendants of Anubis were nothing more than a cult led by a man who called himself Cassius the Creator. Defying him in any way meant death, and Boris knew all too well about the devastation Cassius had caused. He had witnessed him kill innocent families—men, women, and children—who were merely trying to live their lives.
A wicked witch named Heli aided Cassius. She wielded magic to burn villages to the ground with a mere wave. Wherever Cassius went, Heli was sure to follow. All the soldiers feared her, knowing they were no match for her devious powers, no matter how strong they were in their werewolf forms. Heli had helped Cassius weave a web of destruction under the guise of ruling. Together, they created an army of soldiers so powerful that their existence was recognized throughout history. Great armies had tried to defy Cassius over the centuries, but all had perished in his name.
Boris had one ally: Cassius, the Creator’s daughter, Lynn. The two had been seeing one another in secret for months, and one night, they escaped to live free from her father’s evil reign. They married secretly and lived as far away from him as possible. For centuries, they hid from Cassius.
Time passed, and in the modern age, the two lovers, gaining immortality, decided to start a family. Lynn and Boris had a son named Marcus. Marcus showed no werewolf traits as a young child, and Boris was grateful he had not inherited that gene. While he and Lynn were relieved, knowing their son was not a werewolf meant he was not immortal and could not defend himself against any other Descendants of Anubis if they were ever found.
Boris began training Marcus early on to defend himself. He also created a secure shelter for his son so that he would know where to hide if he ever encountered anyone suspicious. They had drills to prepare in case Cassius and his army found them. Their house was built like Fort Knox and equipped with alarm systems, security guards, and monitoring systems. Marcus was homeschooled because venturing into the outside world was dangerous while they were in hiding. The constant fear of Cassius and Heli finding them loomed over their heads. Even with their state-of-the-art home security system, it might not matter if Heli found them.
Boris had never wanted to be a werewolf. Cassius, the Creator, and Heli had transformed him into one due to his incredible strength in their army centuries before. When he reflected on that strength, he felt nothing but hatred.
“Marcus, turn off the television and do some homework,” he said.
Marcus sat transfixed by the screen, captivated by a Transformers movie. Boris glanced at the calendar on the wall: December 21, 2004. It was the solstice, he thought. It was a magical day for Heli; she held grand ceremonies on sacred occasions. In the back of Boris’s mind, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was only a matter of time before his family was found.
Lynn was reading in her favorite chair while the television blared with the action movie Boris had been watching with Marcus.
“Come on! That would never happen!” Marcus exclaimed, staring at his dad with bright blue eyes. The color was strikingly similar to Boris’s, making him wonder if his son carried the werewolf gene. Yet, Marcus had shown no signs of it during his recent puberty—no strange dreams, no extra hair around his ears, and no craving for raw meat—all typical signs of becoming a werewolf in youth.
“It’s just a movie, Marcus,” Boris replied, standing up to stretch and grab another bowl of popcorn.
Feeling tired, he noticed Lynn seemed entirely engrossed in her book. He had never been one to read for pleasure.
Suddenly, a noise came from outside. Boris perked up while Lynn remained immersed in her novel. He glanced outside but saw no one there, so he returned to his recliner. On the screen, a man drop-kicked three others, leaped gracefully from a tall building, and landed gracefully. He shook his head; Marcus was right. That would never happen in real life.
Then something hit the side of the house. Boris stood up, and this time Lynn heard it too.
“Maybe it’s those damn raccoons again. Did you call the guy?” she asked.
“That isn’t a raccoon,” Boris replied, his senses detecting another werewolf.
Lynn looked at him wide-eyed. “They’re here!”
“Take Marcus to the safe room. Now!” he yelled as Lynn grabbed Marcus by the hand and nearly dragged him.
“Mom, what is happening?” he asked, confusion etched on his face. “Why isn’t Dad coming with us?”
“Stop talking and just come with me!” she urged.
Reluctantly, Marcus complied.
Lynn looked at Boris. “They’re here!”
Boris waited until the door was secure and locked before he pulled out his gun from a locked safe behind a portrait of the ocean. He didn’t have time to click it before his front door burst open.
There was his security guard, Joe, his face was slit from ear to ear, and a hand now protruded from his mouth, making it move.
“Oh, Boris, you have a visitor,”
There was a laugh, and Boris swallowed hard. This was the moment he had feared for the last three hundred years. He watched Heli enter the room like a cat smelling an open can of tuna.
“They are inside the wall,” Heli said.
Cassius dropped Joe with a thud, and his guts fell onto the carpet beneath Cassius’s feet. With him were two other soldiers- big men with wild eyes. They appeared possessed by evil.
“You had me for a fool, Boris. Kidnapping my daughter.”
“Some people call it love.”
“You do not have the option to love her. You were never given the right! You were one of my best soldiers. All you had to do was ask. Now I have come for my daughter.”
“No! You will only hurt her. Please, Cassius, don’t do this.”
“What I do with my pack is my business. Lynn is no longer your business.”
“There are two, sir,” Heli said as her green eyes widened.
Heli was a bitch thought Boris. If he could wring her neck with his bare hands, he wouldn’t hesitate. Without a thought in his head, he went for Heli. Boris found himself stuck, unable to move as Heli moved her hand, using some magic to hold Boris in place. Her long black hair fell over her shoulders.
The wall burst open where Lynn was with Marcus, and Heli’s eyes lit up at first sight. “Your grandson,” she said.
Cassius looked at Marcus and then at Lynn. Cassius walked over to the boy and pulled Lynn away from him. He bent down in front of Marcus, who was now trembling with tears in his bright blue eyes.
Cassius pulled Marcus by the chin, peering into his eyes like a predator to prey. He touched Marcus by the ears, tugged at his hair, and smelled his neck.
“Kill him. He isn’t one of us.”
Lynn screamed, “Father, no!”
“Kill him, Heli. Lynn, you are coming home where you belong, and you will forget this place as if it never existed.”
Lynn screamed as the two men who came with Cassius now grabbed her and pulled her from the house into the dark night.
Cassius looked at Heli, and she raised her hands. A blue light surrounded Marcus, and no matter how hard Boris fought the magic, he could not move to help his son. Soon Marcus disappeared into the light.
“You crazy bitch I will kill you! Cassius, you have lived your last day!” Boris yelled.
Cassius turned his attention away from Marcus now that he was no longer an issue and, with barely any effort, slit Boris’s throat. Boris fell to the floor helplessly as he watched his son, now engulfed in a blue light, disappear.
Cassius laughed and walked out of the house but stopped before leaving. “You were the best soldier once upon a time. Now, you are nothing but a dog. Finish him off, Heli. I don’t want to look at him ever again.”
With that, Cassius walked out of the house.
Heli stepped over to Boris and looked at him for a long moment. She watched as the blood that fell from Boris’s neck began to slow. He was healing, but it would take a while, as it always did with immortals.
She bent down and looked into Boris’s eyes, which were now filled with pain.
“You will see your son again. He is not dead. He is simply in another form in time and space. I’m not going to kill you, Boris the Great. You are useful even if Cassius, the Creator, wishes you to die. I see what he can’t see. Therefore, I am sending your soul to live in another body. It will keep you hidden from Cassius until your new purpose is realized. Go now,” she kissed Boris on the forehead, and Boris was in darkness in one leap.

#

Boris felt nothing. He didn’t even have the rage in him that he was sure he should feel. He could not move his arms or his legs. His head was stuck in something that kept his eyes in the dark. He wasn’t sure how long he was there, but it seemed like a hellish eternity. At some point, he heard a shuffling sound and a light as if a door opened before him. His eyes would have burned from the sudden brightness had he any feeling left in them. Boris couldn’t feel it but knew his body was being taken out of what looked like a wooden coffin. Surely, he was dead! Only he wasn’t dead. Instead, he was carried into another room. He could hear music that sounded like jingle bells. There was a chill, and children were laughing, adults rushing to and fro. He tried to move but was unable to. A man smoking a cigar was taking him apart and reassembling him. He saw a brief reflection in a mirror and realized he was in a storage room. He saw the man picking up multiple boxes and fitting clothing on his frame. He only got a quick glimpse of himself and realized he was in a Toy store. He saw a shopping center filled with people doing their holiday shopping. He noticed what appeared to be Christmas lights all around. He still couldn’t get a great look at himself but understood he must be in a werewolf state. Only he wasn’t moving. Then the man began talking. He was still removing what must have been packing material from Boris.
“Stupid toys. What was my uncle thinking by sending this ugly thing to me? The fir is all mangled. Here, let me give you a nice comb, buddy.” He seemed to be fixing Boris and smoothing out his facial hair.
Boris felt a mild sensation of being moved again. It wasn’t like when you are a sentient being where you feel your skin. He just noticed it because the room was changing. He was being moved from the storage room to the storefront now. The lights went out again, and the man left.
The following morning, the man returned, turning on all the lights. He flicked a switch, and Boris saw red. What in the hell was that? He then realized the light was coming from his eyes. There was a muffled growl coming from his chest from a little box. The man laughed and returned to stacking shelves with other toys, books, and games. Soon, the store was abuzz with shoppers eating and drinking wherever they came from. One little girl rubbed her sticky hands on Boris as she walked by him. Another little boy was scared of him and threw his popcorn at Boris. The shopkeeper was busy checking out customers. Christmas lights flickered in the distance, and he saw a man dressed as Santa sitting on a bench, taking his beard off to chug a bit of whisky from his flask. Boris could only see what was directly in front of him. But given he was unable to move, he couldn’t move his head from side to side or up and down. Heli had created the perfect hell for Boris.
Boris was placed on a stand in front of the store window. As he guessed where he was, the mall seemed to fill and empty quickly. The old days of malls were not what they used to be. After the lights went out again, he realized the store was closed. Boris believed he slept during this time. His conscious mind seemed to forget where he was, and things were dark when the store closed. Every day and evening was the same. The hours passed, and soon the lights came on again. Boris was plugged back in, and his roar and eyes were back on to scare anyone who noticed him. Today, the shopkeeper put a hat on Boris. From the slight reflection- and it wasn’t a great one- he could see it was a Santa hat. If Boris could have shaken his head and the ridiculousness of the situation, he would have hidden himself away at the mere sight of himself.
Once again, the stores lit up one by one, and shoppers enveloped the stores at the mall.

More children with sticky fingers and adults dragging them by entering the toy store. They left with stacks of games and dolls. Some footballs were near Boris, and one older kid tossed the ball, knocking Boris over. Boris hit the ground with a thud. There was some commotion, and the shopkeeper showed away the kids.
“Jesus, can’t people show some respect anymore?” the shopkeeper was muttering.
Boris was put back where he was. The shopkeeper returned to his business, and some more customers came in.
That is when he noticed a little boy who couldn’t be more than ten years of age stop before him. He poked Boris in the mouth and petted his body. Boris had no idea what was happening to him.
“Dad! Look at this thing. It is only two hundred bucks! Can I have him for Christmas? I have always wanted a real werewolf statue!”
The father looked at Boris, who was ironically dressed in University of Notre Dame college football gear.
The father looked at Boris. “It is certainly made well, but it is a little ragged-looking. I guess it almost looks real. I am just shocked it is only 200 bucks! I’m sure the shopkeeper might be talked down to One Twenty-Five.”
Boris realized that they were talking about buying him. He hated Heli and finally felt the urge to murder Cassius. The boy was insistent, though, and the father was sizing Boris up. Boris, being a giant stuffed toy, realized he was at least the same height as the dad, but he wondered what he looked like. He had only seen a minor reflection of himself in the glass of the shop window.
“Hey, could we talk you down in price?” the father asked the clerk.
“I dunno, this came to me seven months ago from a thrift store near Egypt.”
“Egypt, huh? Why is he wearing Notre Dame football Gear?”
“Have you looked at that thing? It is scary as hell. I had to make that damn thing seem personable. My uncle bought this online and wanted to use it for Halloween. It isn’t every day you get a giant life-sized werewolf! His eyes light up, too.”
“So I can’t talk you down in price, is what you are saying?”
“Please? I love it so much! I have seen every movie from the Howling series. It would mean the world to me, “the little boy said to the clerk.
The man sighed, “Okay, but only to one Sixty-Five, which is my final price.”
“You really want this ugly thing?” asked the father.
“YES, DAD!”
Ugly? Boris wondered what he must look like.
The man used his cell phone to pay for Boris. Boris realized that was new. What year was he in now? How long had he been in that storage container? The dad walked over and picked Boris up. As he did, he rounded a corner, and in the glass, he saw himself. He looked ridiculous. Big scary teeth sticking out, Brown fir that looked as if it had been half eaten by moths, not to mention the eyes. They were as fake as a teddy bear. They were yellow with red and brown pupils, and when you hit a switch, the eyes lit up, and a muffled roar came out of him. Boris cringed inwardly at it.
He was too long to fit in the SUV, so the father took Boris apart. Once again, his legs were next to his head, and his arms were in the front seat with the little boy his father called Michael, Mike for short.
“What do you think mom will say?”
“I can imagine,” said the father, pulling into a long driveway. From what Boris could see, the house was spacious. Big, white, black shutters and a huge front porch made of stone. They weren’t your average family. They had money and a lot of it. Mike’s dad turned on the radio.
Another break-in occurred this weekend when a father found his two young children and wife dead. Officers are still on the search for the assailants, who were only identified by the white t-shirt and blue jeans they both had on when a neighbor’s Ring Camera caught them. It is rumored they are breaking into homes looking for safes, as one was missing from the house where the father’s entire family was found murdered. Mike’s dad turned off the radio. He didn’t want to hear any more about the recent murders. It was too close to home, just a few streets from where they lived. He focused on driving and the meaningless chatter of his son, Little Mike.
Boris felt a little better for some reason. The kid, Little Mike, had taken a real liking to him even in this state. He wouldn’t stop talking about where he would put him when they got home. Boris wondered what home was like. It had been so long since he had lived in a home.
Once inside, Mike and his dad reassembled Boris and placed him in a bedroom with race car posters. Once Boris’s eyes adjusted again, he also noticed the kid had a fixation on werewolves. The old movie posters from the 1930s were hanging on his wall. He also had a pretty big television for a kid. What was he ten?
“Is that what your father bought you for your tenth birthday?”
Boris congratulated himself on a good guess. Nine, so almost ten.
“Michael, you need to clean this mess up. The Billings are coming to dinner.”
“Oh, Mom, I hate the Billings.”
“But Michael, Bobby will be here too. You always enjoy hanging out with him. Now, go get cleaned up and make sure your room is presentable. I don’t want the Billings Family thinking we are pigs.”
“Fine,”
“This is stupid, isn’t it? So what should I call you?”
The little boy looked at the giant fake werewolf and then searched for a tag or something. Maybe it had a name.
Under the jacket and t-shirt, the giant mechanical monster had on him was what looked like the letter B. The boy moved some of the fur on the creature’s chest and saw Boris. It looked as if it had been branded into the chest. It also had something written in another language beneath the name BORIS. Boris wanted to smile. He had retained his name at least.
“I don’t speak any other languages. Miss Francis, my Spanish teacher, thinks I don’t really have a good grasp of the English language either,” he said into Boris’s eyes.
The little boy had blue eyes. They were dark and serious, though.
There was a doorbell.
“Michael Bobby and his parents are here! Come say hi.”
“Just so you know, I hate Bobby Billings. He is the worst. He is weird, and he still sucks his thumb. He has this weird high pitched voice like he can’t breathe when he talks. He is fifteen, but my mom says he is backward. I’m ten; what could I have in common with a boy his age? He is big, too. He’s nearly six feet tall, and he scares me somewhat. He talks funny, too. My mom wants me to be his friend because she says he has no friends. I don’t really either, but I still don’t want to be Bobby Billings’s friend. He will probably grow up to still live with his parents.” Michael laughed.
Boris stood in his new home and could only see the room with the posters and the giant TV. In the distance, he heard people talking and laughing, and then he heard the door to Michael’s room open.
“I said shut it lady!” said a voice from the lower part of the house.
Boris wondered who it could be with such an angry voice.
“I just meant it is cold outside, you don’t have to wear your coat inside Bobby.” a woman with a fearful sounding voice said. It echoed in Boris’s mind as if he was meant to remember it. It was quiet for a bit and then Boris heard someone come up the stairs very slowly.
Someone came in the doorway to Little Mike’s room. The person stood for a long while and was breathing heavily when suddenly Boris felt his motionless physique being pushed over. He fell to the floor, and that is when he saw who Michael must be talking about. Bobby Billings had a chilling look in his eyes as he watched Boris, who was now lying on the floor of Michael’s bedroom. Bobby came over to Boris and kicked him in the head, causing Boris’ mouth to go crooked. Boris was hopeful Little Mike would be able to fix it.
Little Mike was right. This kid was not right in the head.
Soon, he saw Little Mike come in.
“Bobby, did you knock my toy over?”
“No, I didn’t.”
LIES! Boris wanted to scream. This kid did it and lied about it.
Little Mike stood Boris back up and did something to his face. He seemed satisfied enough to let out a sigh. “Want to go outside and play ball?”
“I guess,” said Bobby, eyeing Little Mike up as if he were thinking about something he wanted to remember for later.
Little Mike turned his back, and Bobby looked back at Boris and began to smile.
Boris was not an expert, and he knew the kid didn’t think he was alive in his body, but Bobby’s look at Boris gave him chills if he could get them.
That night, when Little Mike came to get in bed, he turned Boris towards the window.
“There, you can be the lookout. In case any bad guys come.”
The light went out after Little Mike’s mom came in and insisted he turn off his television. The dark was comforting to Boris. He didn’t know why but felt safe in Little Mike’s room.
Boris slept; at least, he thought he might. He was in the dark for so long it felt like sleep, like when he was in the shop window.

The following day, a loud commotion stirred Boris from his “sleep,” and then everyone was gone. Little Mike was running towards a yellow bus, and his parents were waving and driving away in their cars. Boris liked being in the window. It made him feel real even though he wasn’t. It made him miss his old life and gave him hope. He saw a bird fly into the window, and another one took a shit on the ledge. Birds were crazy, he thought.
Later, in what seemed like no time at all, Little Mike was back. He was running up the driveway, and his mom was getting home.
“Michael, what is wrong? Do you want a snack?”
Little Mike didn’t answer his mom. Instead, he opened his bedroom door with a crash and tossed his book bag on the bed. He was upset. This much Boris could tell by the way he was breathing heavily.
“Michael,” his mother was here now. To mother him or smother him, Boris couldn’t tell which. Little Mike didn’t seem to enjoy being around her. She was always telling him what to do, what to say, and how to feel.
“I don’t want to go back! I hate that school. I want to go back to Manchester. At least I had friends there.”
“Michael, you don’t hate it. It just takes time. We all have been adjusting since the move.”
“I want to be alone.”
“Okay,” his mom said, shutting his bedroom door.
“I hate the boys there. This one kid shoved me in the toilet today, and when I told him to stop because I couldn’t breathe, he laughed. His mom and my mom work together, so I don’t tell her about it anymore. She doesn’t believe me half the time anyway,” Little Mike said.
Boris put the picture together in his mind. Little Mike enjoyed his movies and monsters because his real life wasn’t that great.
Boris listened to Little Mike mainly because Boris couldn’t do much else but listen. As far as he could tell, he was stuck in this body for good.
That night, Little Mike skipped dinner and the following day he watched as everyone left again -Little Mike to school, Little Mike’s mom to work, and Little Mike’s dad to work. Again, Boris watched the birds. He named them in his head. The robin he named Sally, the Blue Jay, looked like a Frank to him. At least he reminded him of a guy named Frank. He was a bit of a bully, and this Blue Jay was bullying all the other birds away from a spot in the tree below.
Boris soon saw Little Mike’s mom pull into the driveway, and he noticed a pattern. She would get home first, then Little Mike, and then by dinnertime, Dad would come home. Little Mike took longer to come upstairs. He heard his mom yelling, and then he realized why.
“I will not stand for this behavior.” she was saying to someone.
Boris waited.
The door opened, and Little Mike came in. Today, he was less angry, more sad than anything.
“I got in trouble today. It wasn’t my fault. The kid that dunked me in the toilet yesterday- well, I punched him in the nose. Then, I got sent to the principal’s office. That is a place the bad kids go. I’m a bad kid now. I’ll be grounded when Dad gets home.”
When Little Mike’s dad got home, there was another ruckus. This one sounded more directed at Little Mike’s Mom.
The door to Little Mike’s room opened slowly. It was Little Mike’s dad.
“Hey, buddy.”
“Am I grounded?”
“Not yet. Tell me what happened?”
“I hate that school. The boys all pick on me. That Derek kid, he tells them all to make fun of me.”
“Handling things with violence isn’t the answer either, Michael,” Little Mike’s dad said.
“Maybe it is. You are always telling me to stick up for myself.”
“Yes, but not like that. Look, I’ll talk to your mother. Try to be on your best behavior tomorrow at school. Do it for me. When you get in trouble, so do I.” Little Mike’s Dad laughed.
Little Mike sighed. He seemed to have no more words for his dad.
The next few days were uneventful. Boris watched from the window. In the distance, the nearest neighbors – the Martin family – had hung their Christmas lights. Boris noticed they came on every evening at the same time. The birds stopped coming as often because it had snowed. Boris began to enjoy the quiet of the day without anyone around. When he saw Little Mike’s Mom’s SUV pull in, that is when he waited. Once she was home, he would see Little Mike, and with him came stories for Boris.
Boris began to look forward to Little Mike’s stories. He was a very animated kid. Boris wondered if he knew Boris could actually hear him if he’d be frightened.
The following day, it seemed as if it were like any other. Little Mike’s Mom came home, but there was no Little Mike today. Where had Little Mike gone?
The door to the bedroom opened. Little Mike’s Mom seemed to be looking for something. Boris couldn’t tell what she was looking for, but she stomped out of the room and slammed the door.
Boris became concerned, but after some more time, he saw Little Mike’s Dad pull into the driveway. Little Mike was with him. Boris felt relieved that his little friend was back.
Boris heard the door open, then he heard it. Little Mike’s Mom was yelling, and he couldn’t tell if it was at Little Mike or Little Mike’s Dad.
Either way, poor Mike.
There was stomping, and then the door opened. Mike came over to Boris and moved him away from the window. He had a black eye, and Boris wondered how that happened.
The door opened again.
“I’m trying to find it, Mom!” Little Mike was crying.
“I don’t believe you. How could you?” Mom was asking.
“I have the picture he drew of me. I just can’t find it.”
“You know you will be suspended because of this.” Mom was saying.
“I know. But you should at least know why I pushed Jeremy down the stairs!”
“Michael Alexander Lindhurst, you know better. You could have killed Jeremy!”
“I wasn’t trying to! He punched me in the face, so I pushed him. Before it was too late, he was already falling. Derek and I tried to stop him.”
“Let me be very frank with you, young man. You are the bully here. There is no reason that every other day your teacher, or a parent is calling me to tell me what you did at school. There is no excuse! You are grounded, and yes, you will not attend the Billings Christmas Party on Christmas Eve. I will have Patty stay with you. You can deal with that. Suspended two days before Christmas break!” she let out a deep breath that she had been holding in for what sounded like years.
A phone was ringing.
“I have to get that. I’m sure that Jeremy’s mother is calling me.”
Little Mike’s eye was very bruised. His parents didn’t seem to believe anything he said. Boris felt mad and sad.
He knew what it was like being a dad. That felt like a century ago now.
“It isn’t my fault Boris.” Little Mike said, adjusting Boris so he faced Mike.
Boris’s fake glass eyes stared past Michael.
“I don’t know why I’m talking to you. No wonder the other kids make fun of me. I have no friends, just a stupid toy.”
Little Mike teared up and began to cry.
Boris felt bad, but again, Little Mike was correct. Boris was a toy. He could not talk, walk, look, or feel—not in the sense that a living person could.
“I’m happy about one thing. I don’t have to see Bobby Billings on Friday. The kid gives me the creeps. He’s totally going to be a serial killer someday. He often hangs out with his Uncle Butch, and they go hunting. Bobby says his uncle taught him how to cut up deer meat. Mom doesn’t know I know about serial killers. But I saw a documentary on YouTube when I wasn’t supposed to be on the computer. They say they are always weird kids. Bobby is weird.”
That was one thing Boris and Little Mike both agreed on. Even if Boris couldn’t say it.
Boris overheard Mom and Dad discussing Michael. It sounded like Mom was getting very frustrated with his behavior, and Dad was trying to calm her down. Maybe Mom needed a glass of wine.
“You are my only friend, Boris, even if you can’t talk back. At least you don’t yell at me like everyone else does. I feel like an alien. I wish you were real. Then, no one could bother me. You’d scare them off with your menacing growl and long claws.” Mike touched Boris’s fir for a second and then had a saddening realization of knowing his life-sized werewolf was only a giant toy. Boris was no longer alive than his toy soldiers or his bike. A tear welled up in Little Mike’s eyes, and Boris noticed that the boy looked as if he had begun to cry. Boris had no more had this thought than Little Mike sniffled angrily and turned on his television. Whatever had made him sad and angry was long forgotten in the movie with vampires that Little Mike had become immersed in.
Boris felt for Little Mike. Somewhere in the distant past, he had been a father. He suddenly missed Marcus. He had forgotten about his son for the most part. Somewhere inside this toy body, he was in, he had developed a new identity. Boris wasn’t a soldier anymore. He was Boris—the toy werewolf.
Christmas Eve came. The night was cold, and Boris saw ice forming on the windows. The house had just enough heat to keep the center part of the window clear of all ice.
Little Mike was forbidden to watch TV, as he was still grounded for pushing Jeremy down a flight of stairs at school. Boris thought he deserved it if the kid was anything like Bobby Billings.
There was chaos and a long list of things Michael couldn’t do.
“No television at all. No scary stories, no cookies or candy after six, and he has to eat the dinner I put in the fridge. It needs to be heated up for three minutes on high. We will be home by nine. If we are late, we will make sure to call you. Thanks again, Patty. I know it is a bit short notice. Feel free to eat anything in our fridge or order a pizza- but Mike can’t have any of it. He is grounded until next week. Thanks again.”
Michael looked up at his babysitter. A young college student with long blonde hair and pink lips. “Jesus, kid, what the hell did you do? Your mom has turned this place into a prison.”
“I pushed Jeremy Hutchins- this mean kid who bullies me down a flight of stairs.”
“Wow. Is that how you got the black eye?”
“Yes, when he landed, he got pretty mad. He rushed at me and started hitting me. I was the one who got in trouble.”
“I’d say he had it coming. Bullies aren’t cool. Come on, let’s watch TV. I promise to tell your mom you had no snacks or television all night.”
Little Mike smiled at Patty. She always knew what to say to Little Mike.
They watched some stupid movies and ate lots of cookies and popcorn. Patty didn’t get a pizza; she made Little Mike a grilled cheese with a large pile of chips. It was better than pizza.
Patty began to feel tired and dozed on the couch while Little Mike watched a movie until it ended. Looking at Patty, he felt terrible and covered her up. Little Mike turned off the TV and walked into the kitchen to grab one last snack before Patty woke.
From upstairs, Boris watched from the window. He watched the lights at the Martin family’s home as they suddenly went out—not just one strand, but all of them. It couldn’t be morning already. Little Mike’s mom and dad still had not come home from their party. He was sure they wouldn’t spend the night. The lights were concerning Boris suddenly, but he didn’t know why.
There was a thud from downstairs. Boris wondered what the noise was.
Little Mike jumped down from the counter. He knew where Mom kept the good cookies, and he had wanted some. She always put them in the highest cupboard above the refrigerator. She only took them out on Christmas Eve, but he wanted some now.
Little Mike was gorging himself on the cookies when he suddenly noticed a light from outside. It was moving around the outside of the house, and he wasn’t sure what it was. Then he saw it appear in the window. It looked like a flashlight. Who would be using a flashlight outside his house?
Boris stood as motionless as a doll in the window. He, too, began to notice the lights from below, but given his lack of ability to move, he couldn’t lean in to get a better look. Some shadows appeared to stretch across the snow. He couldn’t see what or who it was. He drifted asleep as he often did when left alone for too long.
A high-pitched sound came from the family room where Patty was. Little Mike was still shoving cookies into his mouth when he heard it. He was climbing back onto the kitchen counter to replace the cookies where his mom kept them in secret, not so secret, when there was a loud cracking sound, and all the lights went out.
Little Mike stopped what he was doing and looked around. There was a chill in the air, and the quiet made all the hair on his neck stand up. The heater, powered by electricity, was no longer running. It was a continuous sound in the background, unnoticed until it wasn’t. There was a creaking of floorboards coming down the hall towards the kitchen. Thinking it must be Patty, Little Mike went to see her.
He stopped before he exited the kitchen. Dropping his cookie, he saw what looked to be a man, someone he had never seen before, in a bloody white t-shirt. Little Mike thought it was strange that he wasn’t wearing a coat on such a cold wintery night. Then he remembered a vague memory of hearing something on the radio about assailants who were murdering and robbing people in their homes. Little Mike ducked into a cupboard in the kitchen. He wanted to see if Patty was okay. He waited in the dark, hoping the man wouldn’t hear him breathing.
It sounded like they were whispering.
“She is the only one from what I can see.” a man’s raspy voice said.
“No, I saw someone else in the window,” said another voice, which sounded familiar. It was squeaky and a bit high-pitched, and he couldn’t place it.
He could hear rummaging in the basement and heavy footsteps running up the steps. Soon, he heard them go all the way to the second floor, where his bedroom was.
Little Mike took a moment to open the cupboard slowly and peer out. The men were nowhere in sight. He tiptoed to the family room, going as slowly as he could, then rounded the corner to where Patty was on the couch. She was still sitting on the couch with her back to him. He wondered how she could still be sleeping.
“Patty-” he went to tap his babysitter on the shoulder but nearly screamed when her head slowly fell back. Her eyes were staring straight up at the ceiling, and her head was barely still attached to her body. Blood seemed to still be pouring out of her. Little Mike began to panic and screamed instinctively.
Oh, if only he had kept his mouth shut.He heard what sounded like running footsteps from above him, and they headed his way. Little Mike looked at the front door and made his way for it.
Boris heard the scream and suddenly woke from his strange, listless sleep back to the living. He recognized it was Little Mike. He wasn’t concerned until he felt the chill. Even if he had been alive, he’d have felt the chill. Someone was staring at the back of his head.
He felt the push of his lifeless body over – this time, Boris’s head hit the side of the TV in Bobby’s room. This didn’t feel deliberate like before, but the heavy footsteps he heard running away made every hair on his body want to rise- if only it could. If only he hadn’t been stuck inside a toy, he could have screamed at Bobby Billings. He could have asked him what he was doing in here without Little Mike.
Little Mike made it to the front door and opened it. He made it outside as far as the end of the driveway when he felt a sharp pain in his foot. Unbeknownst to him, the assailants had set up spikes for any cars that would try to escape. Little Mike had tripped over the spikes that were covered by snow. Luckily, the spike had not gone into the bottom of his foot and only punctured a little. It still hurt like hell, and he could no longer run. He screamed again, and then he heard footsteps soon on him. He made a last-ditch effort to crawl away into the shrubs by his driveway, but it was too late. He felt hands on the back of his legs and then was dragged out from his bloodied feet and carried up the driveway into his dark house.
Everything outside was dark and quiet. You couldn’t hear the screams anymore.Boris knew his little buddy was being hurt. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t yell or even stop what was coming. Something inside of him began to feel again, though. The rage inside of him grew and grew. Downstairs, Little Mike was getting the worst of it. A scream came out of the child’s mouth, followed by a sadistic laugh. “I’m going to give you a big smile.” Bobby Billings said as he sat on Little Mike’s chest, all the while carving his knife into the boy’s face cheeks. Little Mike stopped crying; he only felt utter and complete pain. Inside, he screamed, but outwardly, his mouth could no longer move. Bobby Billings laughed as he cut his face deeper. It would leave a scar. “Hurry up and kill him so we can go. Aren’t his parents coming back soon? We must be prepared for them, too!” said the older man’s raspy voice. “Yeah, I can’t wait to see your mom gushing blood from her neck to her ass when I’m done with that stupid bitch.” Bobby snickered into Little Mike’s ear. Little Mike was slowly trying to fight, but it was no use. Soon, between the pain and too much adrenaline, he was fading fast. He had lost a lot of blood and was sure Bobby was going to kill him. The man standing near Bobby didn’t seem to approve of his methods; he just wanted a payday. “Kid, tell us where your parents keep their money safe?” Little Mike uttered a small moan, but blood fell from his mouth instead. “Stop cutting him so I can hear what he is trying to say!” The man pushed Bobby Billings off Little Mike and sat the kid up. “Where do your parents keep their money?” Little Mike could barely utter a word at this point. His mouth was bleeding so badly, and he was choking on the blood. Little Mike let out a cough, and blood went all over the man’s face. “Fuck this!” the man said and stabbed Little Mike in the leg. Little Mike screamed again, only this time he whispered, “Dunno, sir, please,” he pleaded. The man looked at Bobby. “Kill him.” “Gladly,” Bobby said. Something hit the window just then. The wind had been blowing for most of the night, but now a branch hit the front window, causing Bobby to stop. The man was rummaging through everything in Little Mike’s dad’s office. Bobby then got an idea. Upon looking at the house’s front window, he decided to make a nice Christmas show for Little Mike’s parents to see when they got home. Bobby went into the kitchen and pulled one of the kitchen chairs into the front of the family window. He picked up Little Mike and sat him upright in the chair. Using a rope Bobby brought with him, he decided to tie him up so that he’d be the first thing his parents saw when they came home. Bobby had a duffle bag with him with all sorts of things in it, including more knives. Little Mike tried not to look at the other stuff Bobby had in the duffle. bag. Little Mike could only let Bobby handle him like a rag doll in his fragile state but secretly wished that he’d be saved by anyone - even Boris the werewolf. But he wasn’t real. Tears stained his face, mixed in with blood from the cuts Bobby Billings had given him. He might stand a chance if he was bigger and stronger, but at 98 pounds, he was no match for the older boy. Especially one with a sadistic streak like Bobby. Little Mike wished deep inside of him that if someone could hear his prayers he prayed for someone to save him. He suddenly wished for Boris to save him, his one Christmas wish. He wondered if there was a Santa and if Santa or God could hear his thoughts. The boy closed his eyes and made his wish- and hard. The first thing Boris felt in twenty years since he became a Toy living in a box, then a shop, now Little Mike’s friend, was a spark. It was a strange burning sensation behind his neck, and then it grew and grew until it reached his forehead. Suddenly, he felt pain from what he could only have guessed was the fall when Bobby pushed him, and he landed headfirst into Little Mike’s TV. It was weird and a little jarring. Boris felt an electric pulse run up the back of his body. At first, he thought maybe it was the mechanical werewolf sound box inside of him short-circuiting, but it was his own body coming back to life, and he had not realized it yet. The screams from downstairs pierced Boris’s ears. What on earth were they doing to that child? The anger he felt was now helping him feel until he let out a soft breath. Boris choked on the air that was coming inside of his mouth and nose. His body grew sore and stiff, and then he realized he was coming back to life somehow. Boris felt itchy all over and painful, like when your foot fell asleep, and the blood returned. He felt sorrow and happiness as if he finally understood that he was returning to life as a living and breathing creature. Tears appeared in his eyes as all of his humanity fell into his body. His soul began to plummet into his body, and as each little cell came back to life, he then felt the part of him he had tried so hard to kill all those years ago when he was under Cassius’s spell. Boris began to move his ears, then his hands and feet. He stood up slowly and nearly lost his balance, but then he began to lose the toy parts of his body. Whatever the shopkeeper had done to him, he now held the scariest components inside of him. Boris was more than just a Toy Werewolf. He realized quickly he was becoming the real thing again. Hunger pains began inside his stomach; it was a blinding hunger. The bloodlust he had learned to quell all those years ago when he was in human form now had no control. His mouth salivated for flesh. He stood finally, his Notre Dame coat and pants falling into shreds on Little Mike’s bedroom floor. He had grown at least two feet taller and was now bigger than he had been when he was a soldier with the Descendents of Anubis. There was a darkness in him now, one that had not been there before, and he was ready to - kill something. He heard Little Mike’s screams again, and it all returned to his brain. The boy- the boy must be saved from these animals. An urgency was set on fire inside him, and he began walking towards the bedroom door. He stood, his jaw jagged with fangs now, eyes wild and amber. His shaggy mess of brown air hung all over his body in masses of tangles. He was disgusting to behold and, all at once, the darkest of angels. He Howled suddenly and then laughed a raspy laugh in a vulgar man’s voice. “Fee Fi Fo Fum, I smell a moron - no two,” he growled. “Is that you, Butch? Stop playing around and hurry up.” said a squeaky voice. Boris began to walk towards the landing at the top of the stairs and walked down the first step. There was a crunch in the wood as if the entire staircase might give way and crumble beneath his feet. Boris took another. It was pitch black, and no light was visible, but he could see perfectly with his werewolf eyes. “Butch, seriously!” Bobby was yelling. Boris let out a loud laugh. It caused the front window pane to crack. Bobby realized suddenly he and Butch were not alone. Someone else was in the house- or something. Boris kept on towards the bottom of the stairs. Bobby pulled out his knife and held it in the air as if waiting for something. Butch heard some sort of commotion and stopped what he was doing, and went into the hall. “What is the racket? We may have minutes to get what we need and get out of here.” Bobby ran over to the office where Butch was. He still had plans for Little Mike and his parents and had no plans to hurry for Butch. “Someone else is here by the stairs.” “I thought you said the kid and the babysitter were alone?” Butch asked angrily. “They were. I don’t know who is here.” Boris reached the bottom of the stairs and slowly turned his head toward Little Mike, who had finally noticed Boris and began to scream in fear. “Hey, kid, it’s me, Boris. It’s going to be okay.” Boris said, putting his hand on Little Mike’s face. The touch of blood on his cheeks only infuriated the beast more. He was going to eat those fuckers. With a swipe of his long claw nail, he undid the rope on Little Mike and picked up the boy. Boris looked up the stairs. With one leap, he was back at the top of the stairs with a crash. “I’m putting you in your room. Can you stand?” Boris asked Little Mike. His voice was more of a menacing growl, which scared Little Mike a bit. Yet, somehow, he felt there was no choice - he had to trust it. The child nodded with tears in his eyes. In all of his wishes and dreams, he had never believed in anything magical, not even Santa. But a Werewolf that came to life? That was so much better than Santa. Little Mike was still not sure he was dreaming. “Lock the door behind me, and don’t open it till I return.” Little Mike hobbled towards the door. He locked it and then went to sit on his bed, fearful of what would happen next. Little Mike had nearly forgotten the pain and the bloody mess he was in. Right now, Boris was alive and was going to save him. There was a part of him that always knew monsters were real, but this one- this was his monster. Boris returned to the stairs and leaped down all ten in a flash. He lifted his head to sniff the air. The vermin were still in this house. “I smell your fear,” Boris said. He walked towards the office at the end of the hall, passing the kitchen. Boris didn’t realize that Butch was nearby with a gun. When Boris reached the office, a shot rang out, hitting Boris in the chest. Boris fell back and hit the wooden floor hard. This wasn’t something he expected. The shot caused Boris to bleed out a lot, but it only made him angrier. Boris stood up, and another shot hit his other shoulder. Then, a third shot, but this one missed him. Boris stood up and, in a flash, had Butch’s neck in his large claws. Boris had not accounted for his old running skills at flash speed to kick in. He had only instinct to account for this ability. His head was nearly two feet wide, and his eyes grew a fiery amber. Then they went black. His ears went back, and within one slight of his claw, he had cut Butch from the neck all the way to his groin. Boris ripped into the man’s chest with his muzzle of fangs, ripping his insides until his guts spilled to the floor in a bloody mess on the floor. He plucked out Butch’s heart and, after tossing it in the air, swallowed it whole. It was something Cassius had taught him to do in his soldier days. “The heart is the best part,” Cassius said then. “Only things better are the eyes and the ass.” Boris tossed the dead man to the floor and then ripped into his eye sockets, devouring each one as they popped like a cherry inside of his mouth. Such a flavor! Boris had forgotten how wonderful eyes could taste. Boris turned the man upside down, shredding him with his claws as if he were shaving beef at a five-star restaurant. He plucked the man’s ribs, then his arms, then his delicious fat thighs, and finally his tender feet bones. Boris licked and bit down, crushing every bone and bloody bit. Then Boris looked at the mess, and when there was only a spine left, he crushed it in his paws and ate it as well. It took Boris less than five minutes to eat Butch in his entirety. Then Boris turned his head toward the kitchen, where Bobby was cowering inside, watching everything. Boris licked the blood off his mouth and grinned a sickening grin, some flesh still stuck in his teeth. “Bobby, this is what happens to the real monsters of the world. I smell your fear, Bobby. You should be afraid; you should be very, very afraid.” Boris licked his lips, grinning like a kid in a candy store. Bobby Billings had never been very empathetic, but he had discovered it didn’t matter how sympathetic he was. His parents always covered up his messes. They let him do whatever he wanted, and he wasn’t scared of them, but they were scared of him because Bobby was freakishly big for his age and towered over both of his parents. Bobby now empathized with his mom and dad as he watched the giant werewolf approaching him. Boris was nearly eight feet tall, with large legs that could run faster than lightning. His arms were not as muscular but were long and lanky, and his claws were like razors. His maw was entirely unforgiving, but those black-red eyes glowed in the darkness of the kitchen. Why had Butch and Bobby cut off all the power to the house? Oh, yes, now Bobby recalled. They wanted their victims to feel as helpless as he did now, with no way to get help or escape. That is why they put road spikes at the end of the driveways. Boris peered into Bobby’s eyes, reading his mind. He saw nothing but carnage.

At least three other homes were robbed that night, and four other victims lay dead. One was an elderly man in his seventies, and the other family had a toddler. Boris thought Bobby was a nasty business as he peered into the boy’s cold eyes. He’d grow up to be even worse if he escaped this house.
It was settled. Bobby had to be punished.
Boris didn’t intend to eat Bobby, though. He didn’t want that taste in his mouth for all eternity. Someone like this leaves a darkness inside of you. He had something better in mind.
Boris had never been especially cruel to children, even unruly teenagers. Even when he was a soldier in the Descendants of Anubis, he never participated in the especially cruel torment that Cassius did. Cassius always told them humans were more diabolical than anything he could think up. Looking into Bobby’s soul and reading his thoughts, I see the discontent that part of him didn’t feel. The part of Bobby’s soul that wasn’t human at all. It was like drinking poison. The more he looked, the more he lost hope for all humanity.
That is when Boris knew the only punishment for someone who never saw the world- was to make sure he never saw it again.
Using his long sharp claws, Boris used one of them to hold Bobby against the kitchen wall and the other to pluck out Bobby’s black, soulless eyes in two seconds of a fly’s wing. The boy screamed and backed up into the kitchen knives, nearly cutting himself as he fell to the floor.
Boris looked at what he had done and felt content. He looked at the sink and put the boy’s eyes in the garbage disposal. The sound of the flesh rolling around in the five blades made Boris even happier.
No matter how evil Bobby was, he couldn’t kill him.
Boris left Bobby on the floor of the kitchen.
The boy’s screams were deafening, and Boris needed to tend to Little Mike.
Something stopped him, though; his body began to hold him in place.
Boris began to slowly feel a pain in his sides, one he knew all too well. He was changing- but into what?
Slowly, indeed, he began to take on his old human form. When he had changed back into a man, he looked around, trying to find something to cover himself up. He found some laundry in a basket in the laundry room- basketball shorts and a tank top.
Bobby’s screams faded as the boy lost consciousness.
Boris looked in the mirror in the hallway near the kitchen. His eyes were back to being piercing blue, and his light brown hair was a bit shaggy, but he was himself again. He touched his cheeks momentarily before realizing he needed to help Little Mike.
He ran upstairs and knocked on Little Mike’s bedroom door.
“Mike, it’s me, Boris.”
“You don’t sound like him.”
“Mike, you need medical attention. I need to get you to the hospital. Please let me in.”
Little Mike slowly opened the door. His face was still a bloody mess.
Boris grabbed Little Mike and hugged him.
“How do I know it is really you?” Little Mike asked, as his mouth was still bleeding.
“Because I heard every complaint, every time you needed someone to listen to you, I was there- listening. I couldn’t say much because a witch put me under a spell, but I heard everything. You’re my best friend too, Little Mike.”
Little Mike looked up at Boris. “What happened to that man and Bobby?”
“Well, let’s just say I took care of them both,” Boris said.
Suddenly, all the lights in Little Mike’s house came on. And the lights across the street, too. The entire neighborhood was lit up once again. Little Mike’s parents were pulling into the driveway.
Boris noticed something then. Someone was staring at him. He nearly fell over when he realized it was Heli.
“Little Mike, I need you to stand away from the window.”
Heli entered the house and looked at Boris with her smug smile.
“Took you long enough to come back to life.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You put me in that toy’s body for twenty years!”
“That is actually not true. You could have become alive again at any time. You needed a purpose. You found one.”
“What do you want now?”
“I came to tell you that when you found your purpose to live again, so did your wife and son. They are waiting for you. I can take you to them.”
“Why would I ever trust you?”
“Because Cassius is dead, I have no need to continue his idiotic and barbaric conquests. I was only helping him because I was indebted to him. He helped me with something long ago. I have no reason to hurt you. I have bigger and better plans for myself.”
“I need to get Little Mike medical help. Can you help with that? Or will I end up in some coffin asking for help?”
Heli laughed, and soon, Little Mike was healed. Little Mike looked at Boris and at Heli.
“It is okay, son; your mom and dad will know what to do.”
With one swipe, Patty, who was dead only moments before, was now back to sleeping soundly. The bloody mess that was left in the wake of Boris killing Butch- all cleaned up.
“Merry Christmas, Little Mike. Now, where is the other one?” Heli asked.
“Bobby?” Boris asked “How do you know about him?”
“His energy is dark. I felt it miles away.I have many lessons to teach him. I think you will enjoy the things I can show him.” Heli quipped.
Boris pointed to the kitchen, and Heli smiled, waving her hand again.
“Wait, my wife and son?”
“They are where you left them. I promise you, Boris.” Heli said seriously. “You have done a good deed and deserve what is coming to you after all this time. Consider it my Christmas gift to you. I did enough when I was working for Cassius. We both deserve our freedom.”
Little Mike looked up at Boris. “Will I ever see you again?”
“I can’t promise anything, but I promise to come visit. Merry Christmas Little Mike.”
With that, Boris walked out the door. On the other side of the front door was his old house. His son, Marcus, was watching television, exactly like the night he had last seen him. His wife was reading, and she suddenly looked up at Boris.
“Well, will you bring me more popcorn or not?”
Boris smiled and looked at the door, waiting for what had happened to happen again. There was a knock, and Boris froze. He slowly went to the front door and opened it.
There was a red envelope on the front door. Inside was a pretty note card with lavender flowers on it.
“I told you you would see them again.” It was from Heli.
Boris sighed. He looked down at the bottom.
“Little Mike is safe and sound, too. He says to visit when you can.”
Boris looked at the calendar on his wall. It wasn’t 2004; it was 2024. Heli had kept his family as they were as if she was waiting for him to come back.
Boris had tears in his eyes and then read the card’s final line.
“Bobby is learning what it means to feel and promises never to hurt anyone again. PS I have great plans for your future Boris the Great. Love Heli.”
Boris looked at his wife and son. Bells were in the distance, and he wondered if he’d ever see Little Mike again. The kid had had such a hard time.
Boris’s phone buzzed. He picked it up, and there was a text from Little Mike with a photo of him with his mom and dad and what looked like a fluffy new puppy. Boris smiled and got the popcorn his wife had waited 20 years for.

The End

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If you enjoyed “The Toy,” this story is part of my holiday horror collection Yuletide Phantasm.
👉 Read Yuletide Phantasm on Amazon