write-it-motherfuckers:

Antique stores have such a special feel to them, you could let yourself be lost amongst the antiques for hours, and still be content. Everything about antique stores simply draws you in, making you wish you had more time and money to spend there.

Whilst perusing the store for the hundredth time, you come across a tiny clay figure, one you have never noticed before. The figure itself, seems to be some kind of elf, or so you assume, given the pointed ears. His expression is twisted in agony and sorrow, as he clutches something to his chest, his limbs bound to the earth with thick chains. 

Despite its depressing nature, something about it sings to you, and you find yourself buying it without really thinking about it. When you arrive home, it tentatively finds a home on one of your tables.

That night, you dream of it constantly, the clay figure completely still, but a deep gut wrenching cry coming from within. Come morning, you still feel restless and agitated, absently noting that you had cried in your sleep, a feeling of hopelessness and loss, chasing you.

Eventually you reluctantly drag yourself out of bed, trudging into the kitchen and making yourself a drink. In your tired stupor, you knock over the little table. You barely register dropping your cup as you fall to your knees, trying to catch the figure, only to cry out in dismay as it shatters on the ground, a strange dust spilling from within.

Strangely heartbroken, you find yourself sobbing, tears blurring your vision. You’re not sure why it upsets you so much, but the grief is almost too much to bear. Unseen to you, the strange dust that filled the figure, begins to twist and swirl, as soon as your tears reach it. 

Finally the strange phenomenon catches your attention, as the dust begins to glow, swirling faster. Wide eyed, you watch as someone forms from the dust, standing dazedly as they gasp in air. The moment they see you, their eyes widen, and they drop to their knees. With them this close, you find that they look almost identical to the figure, even down to the pointed ears. 

Reaching out for you, their eyes tear up. You feel your heart skip a beat, as the first thing from their mouth, is a broken, desperate, whisper of your name.