The Figure on the Corner

  It all started with the figure.  One dreary day, I was walking through the downtown area to get home from school, as I always do.  On the corner of a drab one-way street was a figurine.  A small one, made out of some waxy, almost flesh-like material.  It was really not much to look at.  It looked like a dented, beaten-up voodoo doll, not very well made.  As soon as I saw it, I felt an urge to pick it up.  However, I ignored the urge, thinking that it might be an arts project for school that someone would pick up later.

  Soon after I continued my lonely trek home, it started to snow.  That was weird.  There was no snow in the forecast today, and it seemed as if the snow was somehow... dirtier than usual.  It covered everything with a layer of neglect as I made my way through the traffic.

  The entire rest of the day I thought about that figurine.  I can’t say why, it just kept popping into my head.  Once again, that was odd.  I’m normally very forgetful.  Even my teachers have grown accustomed to me handing in my homework a day late because I can never remember to bring it in.  Why was I unable to forget that simple statuette?

  As I went to bed that night, a sense of foreboding washed over me.  This was a bad idea.  You should not do this.  Similar phrases began popping into my head out of nowhere.  I drank some warm milk to calm my nerves before getting back into bed.

  That night was the worst night of my life.  The dream I had was the single most terrifying thing I’ve seen in my life.  The voices in my head were right.  I should not have done that.

  In my dream, I was a child.  I was walking downtown with my parents when I came to a corner of an abandoned street.  There, I found a figurine.  Poorly made, dented, and worn.  The exact one I’d seen, in the exact same place.  But this time, I knew I was supposed to take it.  When we went home, I brought out my new toy to play with while my parents went upstairs.  In this dream I had a fairly large collection of action figures, and I set the figure down next to Batman and Superman.  This is where the dream went from an innocent dream to realms that I cannot even begin to describe.

  The toy, which I had set on the floor, began crawling towards me.  Its mouth opened, revealing tiny but razor-sharp teeth.  I began to scream as the toy crawled towards me.  The toy, which I had rescued from the street corner, pushed me up against the wall and began to attack me.  I could feel every bite, every scratch.  A drop of blood fell on the figure’s cheek.  And then...  nothing.

  The next morning, I awoke miserable.  That was just a dream, right?  I had to see.  I turned on the TV.  “Police investigators are looking for any information about the homicide last night.  The victim, a young child, was found dead in his playroom last night.  He died of blood loss due to several small punctures all over his body.”  I was in shock as I went to school that day.  Did that figurine... murder that young child?  A toy, something obviously incapable of moving?  No, that couldn’t be it.  It must be a strange coincidence.

  As I passed the street corner on my way home, I noticed the figurine.  I noticed a brand-new rusty red stain on its cheek.