Prompt: Write from the perspective of a forgotten or lost toy.
The feeling of the cold floor on my face has become part of me, as I've been here so long. I look around my short field of vision into the room before me and see nothing but stained hardwood floor and a radiator. It's been months since Tommy left me here, and he still hasn't returned. Doesn't he still want me? I was always his favorite toy. Tommy and Roger the Ranger, best of friends.
We were playing one day, and as I was on a mission to rescue an imaginary lass from the depths of under the armchair in Tommy's room, the front door of the house opened. You see, this is a normal happening as Mom gets home around 6:30 every night. However, this time was different. She called to him and he went running, promising to return and finish the mission. I heard his screeches of excitement and wondered what all the commotion was about.
I remember the day Tommy got me. It was Christmas day and he was 5. I had sat in Mom and Dad's closet for weeks, listening to Tommy play and get excited for the upcoming holiday. I was so happy and nervous to finally meet him. The moment he unwrapped me the look on his face said that we'd be friends forever.
Now as I sit here, thrown down in a rush and gathering dust, I wonder just what will become of me. I still hear Tommy go to bed and wake up, and I see him occasionally kneel down to pick up some dropped socks or pencils. But I still wonder just what it was that took my Tommy away from me.
I can hear someone coming up the stairs now... It's him! Maybe he's come to pick me back up, dust me off and finish saving that lass! I knew he couldn't let our long 5 years together end so easily! No, he's talking, on the phone, I think. I can hear him saying things to his friend. He walks in long enough to grab a sweater, and as he leaves the room I can hear him.
"Mom bought me an X-Box"
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