A horror story by a parent:
That moment, when you are cleaning your child's room. And your hand picks up that. one. toy. The broken, deformed monstrosity that for some reason your child loves. You stare at it in complete disgust..wanting nothing more than to toss it into the trashbag you have with you. You realize, that you are alone in this endevor! Your child is at their grandparent's..you can rid yourself of the deformed calamity! You smirk in triumph as your hand moves towards the trash bag.
But then, your Jiminy Cricket kicks in. Your hand feels like it has been halted by some supernatural force. "But Momma..", you hear from some unknown source, "...What about when your little one comes home? What about when they spend hours looking for the toy? When they look at you with tears in your eyes and goes 'I left it right here!'"? You sneer at the thing. You are sure it is the one who spoke. You are also sure that it's face is now a sly grin. NO! You will defeat this evil. You try to find your reslove but you just picture your child crying and crying. Defeated your hand moves and you toss the vile monstrosity into the toybox. You swear you hear it laughing.
Even as you close the lid to silence the thing you swear it speaks. "You will never be rid of me. I am here. I am eternal."
With a defeated sigh, you continue your cleaning task. Praying admist the sound of the thing laughing in triumph, that your child eventually loses interest in the useless old thing.