For starters, I'm not a doll, I'm an action figure. Not those standard Chinese plastic factory made with voice overs and half posable limbs. I'm a figure made of string or yarn rolled and wrapped around itself. Although weak in design, I appeared strong, and that was all that mattered. I was made by a now deceased relative of my current "overseer". I was a Christmas gift for the kid who was in the hospital with bronchitis. I was made to help them mentally survive the pain. Once made, I was given a metal sword and a plastic shield. The clothing I wore covered only the blank spots and revealed my strengths. My maker, who I no longer remember, once said to me "you, my child will save a life. Keep strong, your fate is in your hand, you are a Spartan." That was the last I remember of my maker. After that I was boxed and wrapped for two weeks waiting for Christmas day.

I saw a sliver of skin before being blinded by the bright hospital lights. Pulled out of my box, I rested in a hands of small boy no older than 10. He stared at me and smiled "a spartan!" He cried out joyously. The excitement in his face would make the saddest of men smile. It was only then had I just begun to grow a conscious. As this kid held me, a personality was forming in his head which, in due time, made me who I am now.

The summer of that year was better, the kid was safe and healthy again and I, unbelievably, was still intact. He much enjoyed my company, we had fun together for hours on end. He'd be the great Leonidas and I'd be one of the 300 men sent to fight the Persian invaders. We always won...

Hours turned into days, and days into years. I grew old, my color and pattern beginning to fade. The kid, now 18, had kept me around for eight years. Not once had a stitch been snapped or a limb torn. I was in mint condition, except for that sun fade which yellowed my once snow white skin. My armor retained its color and although forgotten, I was still me. The personality I had been given was still inside me and until I rot or decay, I shall protect my Leonidas. The day came when that mentality and determination would be tested and nearly tarnished.

A late fall afternoon it was, I sat dormant on the shelf watching the room as my Leonidas began packing his stuff for college. There were many boxes, some labeled attic, some labeled Sale, others labeled college. He was due to move into the dorm in a week. He turned to the bookshelf, the last spot he had to clean out before leaving. I sat on the second to top shelf, perfectly eye level with Leonidas. He took a quick glance at me and smiled as memories of the long past years lined his mossy green eyes. He pulled me off the shelf and held me in his hand for the first time in four years. It had been that long ago since we last pretended to be the 300.

He placed me down next to the digital alarm clock after a quick glance at that forcing the realization of his tardiness to a date with a girl he had shown immense loyalty to since 4 years ago. The day he stopped pretending was the same day he woke up in reality and got himself something more important than me. He got himself a fiancé.

He dashed out of the room and drove off in his F350 pickup. I was left alone in the house, next to a rather loud and obnoxious alarm clock. The clock tolled six...

Down I fell to the hardwood floor in shock. The pure sudden sound of the terrorizing digital keyboard beeping knocked me to the ground. After it silenced, I stood up and grabbed my spear. The room around me appeared to be a lot bigger as I was now in the middle of it. The floor boards were cracked, rough, scratchy and splitting at spots. If i dragged my foot, the fabric would catch the splintered wood. To my fortune, under Leonidas's bed was an old HotWheel car that had been forgotten. It appeared to be in good condition, from my angle at least. I ran lightly, trying to keep my fabric feet off the floor.

I reached the car, it was a nice one too. Small, but nice. I rolled out from underneath the bed riding on top of a Postal van, "UHC" written on the side of it. I assumed it meant "Ultra Hard Core" and that it was extremely durable. Me and the UHC van rolled out of the room into the hallway, our high momentum sent us down the staircase. Recovering from falling down 14 steps, I sat up and grinned noticing that this section of flooring was much smoother than that of the upstairs. I stood up and reset the van upright. I turned around and looked up. Standing there in from of me, was one of the five cats Leonidas owned. It's a tuxedo cat, must be Codie... Damn it. Codie was bad, she was very playful and I unfortunately endured some play time with that beast. I refused this round.

I stood tall and stiff clenching the sword tightly in my fist. She leaned in and sniffed me, still detecting a scent of catnip still somehow on me. That was very bad. With her nose this close to me, I bopped it with my shield. She burked out and kicked me aside in her mad cat dash upstairs. Problem one solved, Four left. I wandered the room, walking past the tall chairs and the floor-to-ceiling glass wall. Everything was so much bigger and I sure as hell hated being small. I may be small but my heart... Screw it, phrases don't matter. I walked into the next room and instantly, the floor changed to tile.

This room, or extension, who knows anymore, was the kitchen where everything could kill me. Knives that could decapitate a cow, stoves that can melt steel, all the works. I heard something click from outside. I ran to the large half glass double doors that lead into the tool garage. Leonidas returned, a phone in hand, and distracted. He swung the door open and to my luck, i was clipped and launched into a space underneath the floor cabinets. The speed in which I flew, slammed me into the wall and without a helmet, everything went dark and cold.