Charlie ran along the street frantically, heart in his mouth, chasing the truck as it went down the street and turned a corner onto the main road and picked up speed.
How could his mother have been so careless? She knew that this was his favourite toy; yes it was old, yes it was dirty, yes it was falling apart, but he’d had that stuffed toy bear ever since he could remember. Now it was being taken away by that infernal truck! Who were those men in that truck anyway, what right did they have to go into his garden and pick up stuff without permission?
Every week they did this, and he never liked it. He ran out to chase them away, but they were always in their truck and driving away by the time he reached them; his little legs just weren’t long enough to catch up with them.
He loved that little golden brown bear with it’s course fur and brown Velcro padded paws, it’s deep brown shining eyes, the depths of which seemed boundless. He loved the smell of it, the way it smelled of him but also of home, picking up all the smells of the kitchen and of the garden outside. It was ever so funny when he picked it up and shook it, and the bear said ‘mmmuuuuurrrrrgh’.
Charlie grimaced and bared his teeth, hurtled down the pavement as the blood pounded through his ears, feet skittering on the hard concrete as he skidded round the corner; when he caught up with them he would shout at them and make them give him back his bear…
…it was gone! His eyes went wide and he looked around quickly from side to side, and up the main road, mouth open as he panted to catch his breath, but the truck was nowhere to be seen. The grimace faded, Charlie’s lips fell back down over his teeth and drooped over his lower jaw, the pace of his heart slowed and became heavy and ponderous.
His bear was gone, forever.
He could hear his mother calling him from a way off. Eyes falling down on the pavement, he turned around and headed back home, tail between his legs.
Based on a prompt from CreativeWritingPrompts.com