Creepypastas

Lego

Lego

Everyone knows how to play with Legos; it’s built into us at an early age, much like how the building bricks themselves are constructed. Built into interlocking groups to make up a whole, and sometimes one construct will be built in a way so different from the rest. It is, and always will be, one of the greatest toys every, so long as it’s in the right hands, and so long as people realize just how much symbolism they can have.

My hands were not, and never will be the right hands.

It started when I was at the age of six. I was sitting on the red carpet in the living room of my parents’ house. I recall that my mother was in the kitchen, chatting on the phone with one of her friends about how they “Needed to hang out some time soon.” Even at that age I knew what the potential activities included in that one phrase. A visit to her favorite bar followed by fruitless attempts to engage in possible sexual actions with men who she would find there. Though these men were just as desperate as her, they still didn’t pick up on what she was “Putting down.”

Every now at then though, someone would pick up on what she was putting down, and so that man would be brought home. It was either that, or my mother would be gone for the rest of the night, and about half of the next day, so you can imagine which one I was hoping she would do. After all, I was only six; I didn’t know how to make my own breakfast. But that comfort of having her home, and knowing that she would prepare the morning meal didn’t help me sleep any better on those nights as the pounding music they created together resonated throughout the house.

These concepts were things that I had to deal with on a regular bases. I thought, as a matter of fact, that I was going to go crazy at such a young age. But then my mom brought home a box of Legos that someone from her work had given to her. A hand me down, I’m sure, but I didn’t care.

As you can see, at an early age I already had an advanced understanding of what the adult world consisted of. Now with that in mind, you could also take a gander at what leverage my mind had to offer in response.

Not wanting to be fully, and entirely aware of, the messed up house that my mother served to me, I began fantasizing. I began to create my own immense worlds, putting everything I had into them. These new thoughts came before the Legos, but where only increased afterward. At first it was just structures, not the best considering my age, but it was something.

However, the afore mentioned structures didn’t hold me over for long. Though I was building cities, I found that it was lacking in something. That something was people. The legs, head and body, were included in the package provided to me, and so with haste I put it together. The little Lego man also took great haste in doing what he wanted.

At the age of six, it is harder than for most to distinguish what is real, and what is just your over-active imagination.  But for me, and for what happened next, I believed it was happening.

Now back to the red carpet. As I was sitting there, putting Legos together, and while my mother was distracted on the phone, the little Lego man displayed his un-natural woos to me. The moment the body was finished, the little legs kicked, just once, against my palm. I dropped the Lego man in shock, thinking some bug had just bitten me. After inspecting my hand for damage I was relieved to find that there was no bug bite, however that only left one other option. The little Lego man was the only other thing in my hand. I looked back down to the Lego man, and saw that it was standing. I thought back to when I dropped it, thinking that it might have landed like that.

And then it waved.

I jumped, startled, but soon settled down, happy to see that it seemed to be alive.