Rise of the Malevolent Sentient Poogle Plushie

     A little pink Poogle came racing into the kitchen, a worn plushie clutched in her hands.

     "Found who, dear?" asked her mother absentmindedly, stirring a pot on the stove.

     "Poogly!" cried the little girl, waving the yellow Poogle plushie.

     "See, I told you you would find him," answered her mother, sighing as the young Poogle ran off to her room. Alice was a good child, that was for sure, but she was so attached to that Yellow Poogle Plushie of hers, which had been a gift for her second birthday.

     "I'm so glad I found you," Alice chattered, setting Poogly down on her bedspread printed with Faellies.

     Poogly sat motionless, staring back at her with his black button eyes. Alice chattered on to her toy, until it was time for dinner. Then she grabbed him by one ear and skipped off to the table, swinging him merrily.

     "So, where was Poogly?" asked Alice's father at dinner. "Your mother said you couldn't find him."

     "He was just under my bed," replied Alice cheerfully. Poogly lay motionless on the tile under their Neohome table. Dinner was a familiar routine - Alice was only six, after all, and he had many faded stains from spilled food.

     "Can't Poogly sit at the dinner table too?"

     "How many times have I told you, Alice? No."

-Later-

     It was dark in Alice's room, but still early, only 8 PM, according to the clock on the pink Poogle girl's wall. Poogly waited until she was asleep, breathing evenly, then he wriggled out of her grasp. How he hated being a plushie! Thrown around, carried around, dropped all day, belonging to a little girl that chattered incessantly and barely let him out of her sight. The yellow cotton that he was made of was worn and grey, beginning to fall apart. But soon, he hoped, that would all change for the better.

     He wanted to be a real Poogle. Like Alice. A real Poogle that walked, and talked, and breathed, and played.

     With some difficulty, he clambered up onto the sill of the window by Alice's bed. She always left it open, and tonight the curtains blew in the chilly night air.

     Falling unceremoniously to the grass outside the window, Poogly righted himself and began moving across the backyard, towards the glade where the local Faeries lived.

     Any Faerie will do, he thought as he dragged himself along. Any faerie to help him grant his wishes.

     There! he spotted a Light Faerie, her wings gleaming brightly this time of night.

     "Erm, miss -" he began, but it was too late. She hadn't heard him, and she flew away, disappearing into the clouds.

     Oh! There was an Air Faerie. "Miss Faerie!" he called as loud as he could.

     "Hm? Who's there?" The blond Faerie looked around curiously. "What poor soul needs me?"

     "Down here, miss," Poogly said politely. She looked down, and her expression changed to surprise. "Oh!"

     "Yes, I was wondering if you could help me -" the little Poogle began.

     "Help you?" the Faerie scoffed. "You're just a plushie. Why should I waste my time helping you?"

     With that, she flew away, mumbling about silly plushies.

     Poogly felt like crying. Why wouldn't she help him? Faeries were supposed to be kind to ALL Neopians.

     He tried to get many more faeries to help him, but all scoffed and flew away. Who would want to help a tattered, worn plushie? they said.

     Poogly was becoming desperate. Slowly the Faeries began to leave as it grew later, and Poogly felt like giving up and going home.

     Wait! There was one faerie left. Hurriedly, he dragged his worn plush body over the wet grass towards her. "Miss Faerie! Miss Faerie, please!"

     She turned sharply. "Who's there?"

     Poogly stopped, and gasped. This was not a kind Water Faerie or a benevolent Air Faerie. This faerie was tall and menacing. Her hair, long and dark, cascaded down over her bat-like wings, contrasting with her pale complexion. Her eyes were a deep purple color - and were those red pupils?

     Poogly shuddered. This was a Dark Faerie.

     Alice's mother had warned her often of the Dark Faeries. Poogly had heard those frightening bedtime stories, tucked under the bedspread at Alice's side.

     But she was his last hope…his only hope.

     "I-It's me…my name is Poogly…" the little plushie whispered, quaking with fear.

     The Dark Faerie looked down, and snorted. "So you're the one all the other faeries wouldn't help. I can see why."

     "No, please, don't leave!" begged Poogly, alarm overcoming his fear. "Please! You're the only one left!"

     "Is that so?" asked the Dark Faerie, arching one eyebrow. She leaned down to face the Yellow Poogle Plushie. "What is it that you want?"

     "N-Nothing really," stammered Poogly. "Just a tiny favor…something small…"

     "What? Tell me," the Faerie said impatiently.

     "Well…I just want to be…to be like a real Poogle" he blurted out.

     "Like a real Poogle, eh?" the Faerie said, a small smile coming to her face.

     "Y-Yes," replied Poogly, "just being able to walk, and talk, and breathe, and do things…"

     "Hmm…" She thought for a moment, then her smile widened. "All right then."

     Part of Poogly's mind was screaming 'What are you doing?! Don't trust a Dark Faerie!' but the other half didn't listen, it wanted to be a real Poogle so badly…

     A cloud of black, swirling smoke engulfed the poor plushie, and Poogly coughed, but when it cleared, he didn't feel any different. He could still feel his stuffing, and he could still feel the stitches holding him together…

     Then he realized he was standing upright.

     He took a few experimental steps forward, and was delighted to find he would really walk! Just like a real Poogle! Instead of dragging his body through the grass, he could just walk!

     But he was still a plushie?

     "Err, miss Faerie," he began, then stopped. His voice sounded different…harsher…louder.

     "Oh, I'm sorry," cackled the Faerie, appearing in a puff of smoke. "Something must have gone wrong with my…spell." She laughed sadistically. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to trust a Dark Faerie!?!"

     Poogly blinked. What did she mean? What was she talking about? Her spell had gone wrong? Was that why she was still part plushie?

     Then he caught sight of his reflection in the pond.

     Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

     His usual pale yellow cotton fur was now darker. With a light checkered pattern. The insides of his ears were a bright pink-purple, spotted with with white polkadots. A patch of green fabric covered his right leg. His teeth seemed oddly…pointy.

     And instead of his usual flat black button eyes, his eyes were a gleaming red!

     Gasping, he turned to the Dark Faerie. "What did you do?" he demanded in his new, harsh voice. "What did you DO?!"

     "Nothing," she replied in an innocent, syrupy-sweet voice. "You did say you wanted to be like a real Poogle." She cackled again. "Never trust a Dark Faerie!"

     And then she disappeared in a whirl of purple smoke.

     In a normal situation like this, Poogly would have cried. But now he felt different…empty…evil.

     What had he done?

     No. It wasn't his fault. It was Alice's. She had made him do this. She, who dragged him along, kicked him, threw him around every day. It was her fault. Now it was his turn for revenge.

     Revelling in his new speed, he ran easily across the wet grass, back to Alice's window…

     Another cold breeze ruffled the curtains of Alice's open window, just like it had a few hours ago. But if one looked out the window, just beyond it, one would see a yellow Poogle, half-Poogle, half-Plushie, with gleaming red eyes…

     Alice shot up in bed, sobbing. "Mummy, Mummy!"

     Alice's mother rushed into the room, kneeling by her daughter's bed. "What's wrong, dear?"

     "I h-had a-a nightmare," the pink Poogle sobbed, hugging her mother. "It was terrible…something happened to Poogly…"

     "Honey, shh, he's right here," her mother replied soothingly, feeling around in the bed. Her fingers met soft plush, and she handed the toy to her daughter, who although she couldn't see well in the dark, immediately wrapped her arms around it. "Go back to sleep."

     Contented, Alice snuggled back under the covers, and her mother rose, and left.

     She was almost to the door when Alice said in a small voice:

     "Mummy… Poogly just made a funny noise!"

     "Shh, dear, it's nothing. Go back to sleep…"

     In the bed by Alice, the Malevolent Sentient Poogle Plushie laughed evilly to itself, and plotted its revenge…

The End