As I sit on the shelf unable to move my wooden legs, I see many things. I see a painting decorated with jewels and sand. I see a shelf with colorful boxes called games. Most importantly I see a boy and his father clicking away on strange devices apparently called “computers”. I see the boy look at me almost like he’s a hawk, and I wonder if he is admiring my boots with gold laces I wear, or maybe my red uniform with gold stripes and blue stars, perhaps comparing me to the toy next to me. In a few days they will open things called presents on a day called Christmas, and see what loved ones have gotten them. As I see the father walk away, I am reminded of my old life. My life as a soldier was hard. I walked many miles while lugging a musket around, though now I wield a sword. One day I finally had to go into battle. In the fight I remember the sound of gunfire and the smell of gunpowder. saw many of my comrades die, and finally I’d had enough. I ran up close to the enemy ignorant of my captain’s screams, and through a blind rage I shot one with my musket before being shot myself. As I fell to the ground my life flashed before my eyes. I saw my dad and my mom. I saw myself running through the prairies of our farm without a care in the world. Then it was black. The next thing I know, I see a row of shelves and people walking around. I see wooden figures painted like soldiers and wonder if I am a toy as well. The father walks in and I come back to my senses. I didn't think what it would be like to be a father. I think back to when I was a boy. I remember spending time with my father, and I wish that that feeling could come back. I think to myself why I became a toy soldier. I feel as though it's to repent, for everything I have done. I fought for the side of a war that was unjust, wrong and foolish. The soldiers I killed were only exercising their freedoms and needs. I think about their loved ones who would miss them dearly. I think about my country who would have rewarded me had I survived. I think for long enough that the father and son are gone, but cannot think of a reward that would be worth the lives of other humans, not money or fame or even my family becoming royals. At this moment, if I could cry, I would. If I could speak, I would say, “I'm sorry.” I now see a white light in front of me. I can feel my spirit free from the doll, like a knife cut the invisible strings attaching me to the doll. I walk towards the light only stopping to look back and see a picture of the boy when he was younger and the doll I was trapped in, and I find myself in a place of bliss.