Broken Toys


📅 Published on December 17, 2025

“Broken Toys”

Written by John Valente
Edited by
Thumbnail Art by
Narrated by

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

🎧 Available Audio Adaptations:

ESTIMATED READING TIME — 8 minutes

Rating: 8.67/10. From 3 votes.
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I walked as quietly as I could down the corridor. Each traitorous step sounding as thunderous as my heart beat. The blood on my hands—once hot like the silent tears running down my face—was now cold.

“Children,” a croaking voice said from the darkness. “Are you hiding from me?”

Grey, withered skin. A face decayed into a scowl. A skeletal body where each bone protrudes like an infectious cancer. I can hear it lurching it’s way through the shadows as I carefully tiptoe into the kitchen.

“So silent. Oh how I love to play!” Chokes of laughter split from it’s crusted lips before decaying into a haggard rasp. “I will find you.”

Slowly, I pull myself up onto the counter so I can grab a knife to defend myself. I hope where I hid my brother’s body will at least keep him from becoming a meal for this decrepit thing.

Suddenly, I hear a piercing and deathly scream echo around the house.

It’s coming for me now. I’m ready.

* * * * * *

Earlier that evening my brother George and I had been abandoned by our parents.

During the car ride I knew something was off. They kept looking back at us, telling us were were going to “have a fun evening away from home”. As I clutched my favorite toy plane close to my chest I tried to take in the surroundings. I didn’t recognise the streets we were passing and as the sun set I could only make out faint lights through the haggard trees of a thick forest.

Eventually, we pulled up to a dimly lit house nestled in the woods with tools and rusted machinery out front. George had slept the whole way but I had been too anxious and trying to pay attention to every detail I could make out.

We walked over to the house and when the door opened I started to scream and cry. I saw a monster. A twisted, evil being that smiled and laughed as I squirmed to run away. George woke up but didn’t seem phased at all.

“Mom! Dad! No!” I protested.

“David! Behave!” my mother scolded me.

“It’s ok little one,” it crooned. “I don’t bite.”

I didn’t understand. Could none of them see it. Had it put a spell on them? I looked back and forth and my parents were smiling too!

“He’s just worked up,” my dad chuckled, “but he’ll settle down once we’re gone.”

I started to yell and protest, trying to flee in panic but my dad restrained me and spanked me until I was quiet.

I choked back loud sobs through the stinging pain, afraid of being hit again, as we were led deep into it’s lair. We passed by a living room that was full of decay and rot and went through a dark kitchen lit only through the thin slits of light coming from between the shutters. We went further down a long corridor past numerous doors until we came to a painfully bright room. Dolls, trucks, dinosaurs, and other old toys were scattered around the room among soiled-looking cushions.

“Look at all those toys,” my mother said in her fake high-pitched voice, “you boys will have so much fun!”

George immediately ran into the room giggling and started playing. Knowing I couldn’t say anything I reluctantly walked into the room.

The creature locked eyes with my parents and I could tell it had hypnotized them. They smiled and laughed but it all sounded flat. Soon they waved goodbye to us and the door was shut.

* * * * * *

I don’t know how long we were in there.

After a while I had decided I had no choice but to try to pass the time. I was running around with my plane pretending to be a fighter pilot. George was laughing playing with his farm animals. I whooshed the plane down towards them making gunfire noises and knocked his animals over which made him start crying.

“No! Don’t shoot them!” He protested.

“It’s ok, they can handle it,” I said as I stood them back up, “See?”

George’s crying subsided and he sniffled, taking a moment to process his animals being alive again.

“I don’t like it.” He grumbled and gave me that infuriating look.

Any time I do something he doesn’t like he drops his head to his chest and stares up at me with a forced frown. It makes his face look even more babyish and dumb.

“Well I don’t like your face!” I yelled as I shoved him to make him stop.

He stumbled, fell, and started crying again.

“Stop crying!” I yelled. “You’ll get us in trouble!”

“But-but you—you pushed me!” He said between sobs. He crawled over and picked up my plane. “I want to play with it now.”

“No!” I ran over to grab it. “It’s mine, you’re not old enough to play with it.”

“Yes I am!” He yelled. I tried to grab the plane but he spun around and hunched over it. I tried to pry his arms free to make him let go but he wouldn’t.

“Let go of it!”

“No!”

I started hitting his back and arms to make him let go but he just started crying and holding on tighter.

“Give me my toy! It’s not yours! You’ll break it!”

“No I won’t! I won’t I won’t I won’t!”

His face was bright red. I hated it when he got like this. He was unreasonable and stupid and nothing you said would change his mind. We wrestled back and forth, George’s yells got louder and louder.

And then I heard it.

Shuffles along the creaky wood flooring. The grating, gasping breaths.

“George,” I said, panic starting to rise, “you need to stop crying right now.

But he wouldn’t. He knew it got him attention from my parents. He was too young to understand they’d left and it wasn’t them coming down the hall. My heart started to thunder in my chest. I tried to put my hands over his mouth to silence him but that just made him freak out and scream louder.

The door creaked open and the creature peered into the room. Eyes hollow, hair thin and wiry. Just the site of it made my stomach twist and a shiver run through my body. David felt my grip loosen and used the opportunity to break free and run towards it.

“Da-David killed my animals and now he won’t let me play with his toy,” George blubbered. The eyes locked on me. Suspicious, hateful.

“They’re alive again!” I protested. “We were just playing! And it’s my toy he can’t play with it!”

“Yes I can!”

I screamed in anger and ran at him again trying to grab my toy off him but the creature moved with frightening speed restraining me in it’s clawed hands.

“Let me go!” I screamed.

“David,” it said flatly, a cruel smile revealing decaying teeth, “let your brother play with it. George, the toy is yours.”

I shrieked in protest and tried to wriggle free of it’s grasp but it held tightly and began dragging me out of the room. George had stopped crying instantly now that he got what he wanted and was smiling and running with the plane.

“No! Please!”

“I don’t like children who misbehave,” it said in a flat, hollow voice.

“Please I’m sorry! Let me go!” I thrashed and yelled but it was no use.

“SILENCE!” it screeched as I was thrown into a dark room; my feet stinging on the cold floor as the door was slammed and locked shut. I yelled and hit the door over and over in a rage but nothing happened. I eventually crumpled against the wall, exhausted. As I quietly sobbed and shivered, I took in in my surroundings for the first time. I only had the sliver of light underneath the door to see by. The roof creaked as if it were a small gust away from caving in. The walls felt damp and cold. As I looked around I could only make out the faint shapes of objects and boxes. But then I saw it. In the darkest corner of the room was a shape. Deathly still, watching me.

My stomach twisted as I gasped in shock. I blinked and it seemed to move, ever so slightly. I quickly turned to try opening the door but immediately felt an icy jolt through my spine—it was coming for me! I spun around to face it and it retreated back into the corner. A raspy, sickly breathing echoed around the room as it looked at me.

Then, slowly, I saw it start to move toward me. In a panic I dug around and found something on the floor and threw it as hard as I could. I didn’t see it hit but the shape suddenly lurched towards me. I screamed and desperately pounded and pulled at the door. To my surprise it opened and I ran out quickly shutting it behind me and locking it.

Through shallow breaths I realized I could hear George playing in the room. He was close! I had to save him and get us out of here!

I shuffled quietly down back to the room and slowly opened the door. George was spinning around with the plane and then he got dizzy and fell right on top of it breaking it to pieces.

At that exact moment the dark shape burst through the other door and came at me. A terrifying, haunting blackness. Panicking I ran into the room, George looked up in surprise but then his face went a pale white as he saw the dark shape hurtling into the room behind me. In a moment of cowardice I dove under the blankets in the corner to hide and all I could do was muffle my screams and cry as I heard it kill him.

It wasn’t long before it was satiated and I heard the shape shuffle out back to it’s dark crevice. I crawled out from the blankets over to George and gasped in horror. A jagged plane wing had been shoved into his eye, the body impaled into his stomach, the other pieces were scattered around him, covered in blood.

“George,” I whimpered, cradling him, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

His body was limp in my arms. I don’t know how long I sat there crying but soon I heard the creature beginning to stir in the distance and panic gripped me once again. As I went to wipe my eyes I saw the blood on my hands and a cold sobering chill took over. I had to get out. Before the creature found me. I dragged George’s body over to the blankets to cover him up and used some from the top of the pile to cover the bloodstains on the floor fearing the scent may draw the creature. With everything hidden, I silently snuck out the room and as far down the corridor as I could get.

“Children?” I heard it croak as it shuffled through the kitchen. I quickly opened a nearby door and ducked inside, leaving a thin gap to look through. I watched as it shambled with ragged breaths past me toward the room we’d been playing in. I waited until I heard it open the door and step inside before sneaking quickly and quietly into the kitchen.

* * * * * *

As soon as I heard the scream I knew I had no choice but to try and fight it off. I stood in the kitchen with my knife out in front of me as the creature’s footsteps thundered louder and louder towards me. It skittered into the kitchen at a nightmarish speed. It’s limbs flailing as it head whipped around looking for me.

“I’m not afraid of you!” I said, my hand trembling as fresh tears began to fall.

“You stupid child!” it spat, stepping closer.

“Stay back!” I jabbed the knife towards it, making it flinch and then rear up and charge toward me.

I screamed and felt that same icy chill in my spine of pure terror. As if drawn to suffering, in that moment the dark shape crashed into the room and attacked the creature causing it to howl in pain and collapse. Without a moments hesitation I dropped the knife and ran as fast as I could. I rounded the corner towards the front door and threw myself out into the street at a feverish pace. Running. Running as fast as I could into the dark forest.

* * * * * *

Officer Brooks walked through the crime scene, the events piecing themselves together. Empty bottles in the livingroom where the nanny had been watching TV instead of the kids. The blood in the kitchen from the knife wound the kid had inflicted on her. The most haunting thing was the tiny bloody footsteps that led from the front door all the way to the little boy’s body under the blankets. Damned stupid old woman shouldn’t have been drinking on the job but the evidence corroborated her story.

What kind of child kills his own brother?

Rating: 8.67/10. From 3 votes.
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🎧 Available Audio Adaptations:


Written by John Valente
Edited by
Thumbnail Art by
Narrated by

🔔 More stories from author: John Valente






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Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

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