• I wanted her badly . . . but . . . there was nothing I could do. She had nothing else left but me . . . What would she do with me though? All I was good for was to be snuggled to bed or to be clutched in the arms of a weary child. After all . . . I was just a stuffed toy bear. The other toys looked more expensive compared to my simple cotton fabric. The only decoration I had on me was the blue ribbon around my neck which my owner tied onto me.

    Dizzy was different from other owners. She gave me a name . . . she had me in her arms everywhere she went . . . she treated me as if I was actually alive. I did not think I would be the toy she would pick out of the bunch of luxurious toys that surrounded her that day. I was grateful that she picked me. Now I finally have something to be proud of . . . my loving owner.

    Over the years I have grown to become closer to the girl. Before that, I saw her as nothing more than a blue-haired toddler with nothing much to look forward in her life. Each year I watched her grow taller, more intelligent, and more beautiful. Every evening, when she would hug me to sleep, I would wish that her pale arms would never let me go. I longed each second for her touch.

    It was not only her actions that showed me that she loved me . . . her words too. My heart would skip a beat every time she would say my name . . . well . . . I guess I cannot really call it a “heart” since toys do not have hearts. Her voice was so gentle . . . so angelic. It was the melody that I could keep listening to forever. Her smile never faded away; it would only take a break when she was tired or sad . . . Whenever she cried, she always hugged me to take the pain away.

    However . . . one day . . . she stopped smiling . . . Her tender auburn eyes were always filled with numerous tears. Even the caressing of my soft fabric against her face did not stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. Dizzy was too young to experience such pain . . . She cried for hours nonstop . . . she called out to her parents . . . but no one came . . . She sat all alone in the chair where her wealthy father would sit every morning in breakfast . . . The maids and butlers tried to cheer her up . . . but nothing was working.

    It was at this moment that I wished that I was human . . . I would have wrapped my arms around her until her crying stopped . . . I would have kissed her tear-soaked face . . . I would have ran my fingers through her long azure hair . . . But that was all impossible . . . A toy could never turn into a human.


    It has been nine years since the fatal event of her parents’ deaths happened. Dizzy had been able to recover . . . but it had taken a while until the smile on her beautiful face reappeared. Over the past nine years . . . Dizzy played with me less and less until she finally placed me on the book shelf near her elegantly decorated bed. A glass screen kept me apart from her. She started to change . . . as she got older her slender body became the envy of other girls. Her graceful figure left countless men to woo her. Her gorgeous features complimented her gentle personality and mannerisms. Dizzy grew up to be the ideal fairytale princess of every man’s dream. The long gowns and bright jewelry she wore only made her appear lovelier than ever.

    I missed the tiny arms that used to hold me . . . I longed for the touch of her slender fingers on my cotton head. Reminiscing the days of her childhood would have brought tears to my eyes if I could cry any. It was sad . . . the life of a toy . . . one day the children love us . . . then the next . . . that love fades away into nothing but forgotten childhood memories. I missed the days she would tell me all about her days in school. I missed the hours of each day that she would call me “Ky.” I wanted to go back into the good days. I wanted to be hugged by her once more . . . even for just a second . . .

    My eyes of thin black cotton fabric stared at the girl that walked into the room. It was Dizzy. A rush of excitement raced through me . . . but someone else was there . . . A tall man dressed in mostly black walked into the room with her. His long black hair was let down as the grimness of his face was portrayed. His dark crimson eyes stared at her calmly, but they had looked vicious from afar. I pushed against the glass with my paws. Dizzy was in trouble. I had to rescue her! Suddenly, the glass creaked open, and I fell right off the shelf. I landed to the floor with a soft thud . . . No pain was felt since I was made of cotton. Dizzy noticed and walked over to me. I looked up at her. Her hands were cupped around my cotton body as she picked me up. Her hands were so soft . . . and gentle just like the old days . . .

    “What is that thing?” the man said. He poked me with this long skeleton like finger. I would have glared at him if I could.

    “Oh . . . this is Ky . . . he was my favorite toy when I was a child . . .” Dizzy replied with a smile. Her words stung like a frozen dagger running through me. I was her favorite toy? She placed me back into the wooden book shelf where I returned to the empty solitude that I faced every day.

    I could not believe it . . . I loved her so much . . . I would have jumped into a fire to rescue her . . . I would have put myself in the dangerous of all dangers for her . . . Now I see . . . Toys experience the love of the owner for a while . . . until it finally fades away . . . fades away into nothing but forgotten childhood memories. Tears rolled down my soft face. It was the first real thing I ever did. I was too choked up with agony and grief to realize what I was doing.


    That evening . . . I watched as her graceful figure fell into a deep sleep. She looked so beautiful even when she was sleeping . . . I quietly and carefully climbed out of the book shelf and to her side on the bed. I looked at my cotton paws . . . then I turned to look at her frail hands which seemed so much bigger than mine. Tears rolled down and wet my face as I lifted a hand to touch her palm . . . I missed it so much . . . I just had to . . . It would be a while till I would hear my name being called again . . . I longed for her to repeat “Ky” again . . . I wanted to hear it from her lips. In my mind . . . I repeated her name over and over again . . . “Dizzy . . . Dizzy!!”

    Soon I let go of her hand . . . I climbed out of her bed and placed my light brown feet on the carpet floor. I looked back at her . . . and tears continued to stream down continuously. . . “Good-bye” I thought . . . It was over. She would never go back to loving me again . . . It was nice to know that she did love me though . . . Being with her was the one thing that made everything else seem inferior in my life. She added a bright meaning to my existence. It was the one moment that I felt needed in this cold world. Now it was over . . . I walked back to the lonely book shelf where I would decide to end my miserable life . . . (cont).