The Last Toy

Ottis only wanted to show his wife the school where he grew up. But the visit to the abandoned village reveals more than ruins; it uncovers corrupted memories, forgotten symbols, and a toy that should never have been touched. A tale about the weight of the past and the silence that transforms.

Ottis, a German man of strong roots, firm convictions, and unwavering morals, a good man, beloved by all, once decided to show his wife the old school where he had studied. It was meant to be a lovely outing, a break from routine, and a chance to share a piece of his childhood and adolescence in his hometown, something she had always asked to see.

It was a small village, not well known, tucked away in the corners of rural Germany. The nearest town was several kilometers away. Isolated, yes but breathtakingly beautiful.

Upon arrival, Ottis began to notice that everything was abandoned. The houses showed signs of advanced decay, the streets were deserted, the health center completely destroyed, and the community hall had only three walls still standing. Only the roads remained in decent condition, some trucks still passed through, using the route to save time on deliveries to the big city. But the village itself was dead.

Ottis, still stunned by what he saw, explained to his wife what those buildings once were. His trembling voice revealed a deep sadness, as if he had lost his entire life in the ruins of his birthplace.

They passed the house where he was born and spent his childhood and most of his teenage years. Despite the visible passage of time, it was one of the few structures still resisting imminent collapse.

Finally, they reached the school. They stepped out of the car and stood before the gate, observing. Ottis began to recall the days gone by and revealed that the school had closed when he was 14. For some reason, people had stopped having children, and the community saw no point in keeping the school open.

Suddenly, they heard something from inside the building. Startled and uneasy, they looked at each other. Without a word, a cold shiver ran down their spines.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

They stepped through the gate. Instantly, the feeling that they weren’t alone screamed for them to leave but they continued. Ottis pointed out where he used to play, with whom, the mischief they got into, the times they tried to climb the old tree.

But something was different. Something had changed.

On the ancient tree that still stood there a witness to generations of children, Ottis saw symbols. Symbols he had never seen before. Though they looked decades old, they remained visible as if carved just yesterday.

From the school, they heard another whisper. A murmur. Almost a song.

The chill intensified. His wife asked to leave because she had a bad feeling. But Ottis insisted on going inside. He wanted to finish the visit quickly.

Inside, he shared how he used to sneak in at night with friends. They smoked their first cigarettes, talked about their parents, about life. They even played with a Ouija board, trying to summon the other side.

It never worked. “Though once we felt a strange wind… but we ignored it. We laughed and left,” Ottis said, his mind racing through memories frozen in time.

Among the scattered books and debris on the floor, one caught his wife’s attention. Its cover was more elaborate and surprisingly well-preserved despite the decades. Ottis picked it up and noticed the intricate design. Inside, more drawings of creatures, texts in an unknown language, even stranger symbols… and words written as if traced in blood. Some pages even felt like human skin.

Then Ottis recognized some of the symbols they matched the ones carved into the tree.

He said nothing. Just stared at the book, frozen, as if in a trance, ignoring his wife’s calls.

Suddenly, he closed the book and told her to follow him. He remembered the toy room. There was one toy in particular he wanted to show her.

Amid the chaos, it was still there. A small statuette that had always intrigued him. The teachers never allowed the children to touch it, but now, Ottis picked it up. It was like fulfilling an old dream that had always been denied.

As he looked at the statuette in his hands, its eyes shimmered with a faint light, a red not of this world.

Ottis no longer heard his wife. He walked toward the exit. As they passed the room with the book, the statuette’s glow intensified. Ottis slipped it into his pocket and looked at his wife. That’s when she noticed a dim glow in his eyes.

“Ottis? Ottis?”

Murmurs escaped his lips. Ottis left the school as if he were no longer himself. He crossed the yard, passed through the gate, and in the middle of the road, turned to his stunned wife and sang in a disturbing tone:

“I’m no longer me… I’m no longer me…”

With the glow in his eyes growing stronger, Ottis smiled a smile so malevolent that even the birds fled. His wife screamed for him, but a truck sped by, hitting Ottis. He never stopped smiling, even as he was crushed and killed by the vehicle.

Weeks after the terrible accident, his wife returned home to her cat, to her plants. Life went on.

And she still visits the cemetery to talk to him. Even knowing that sometimes it`s not him who listens.