Akash hated cleaning his cupboard. Every weekend, when his mother told him to sort it out, he found a way to escape. But, today, she stood at the door, arms crossed. “Clean it. Now.”

He sighed and pulled everything out. He was surprised at the things he found inside. Forgotten notebooks, single socks, broken crayons, a broken ruler, a puzzle with missing pieces, and toys he hadn’t seen in years. Then, his fingers brushed against something cold. He pulled it out. It was a small wooden man.

Akash frowned. He didn’t remember owning it. One arm was bent at a strange angle, and the legs twisted awkwardly. The paint had chipped away, and its face had dulled with age. But its eyes... they seemed oddly bright. If he were being fanciful, he’d say they were alive. He tried to straighten its limbs, but they wouldn’t move. He placed it on his study table and went to bed.

Strange noises

That night, long after the house fell silent, a sound woke him.

Tick… tick… tick… It came from his study table.

After a time he heard, “Tap. Tap. Tap.”

Akash sat up. The wooden man was standing. Its stiff legs tapped against the wood. Its head turned slowly, creaking as it moved. The bent arm jerked, then straightened with a sharp crack.

Akash’s heart pounded. The face turned and looked straight at him. Then it began to dance. Its movements were stiff but precise, following a tune only it could hear. Its pale lips stretched into a thin, unnatural smile. Its eyes gleamed in the dark.

Akash tried to scream, but his voice failed him. The dancing stopped. The man pointed at him.

“No…” Akash whispered.

It stepped forward. One step. Another. Slow calculated steps. It was climbing down from the table.

Akash leapt out of bed, but the moment his feet touched the floor, he froze. His arm lifted instinctively but stayed there, suspended. His legs refused to move. He couldn’t breathe.

The toy climbed onto the chair, still dancing, still smiling. Then it stepped down. It danced its way closer and closer to him.

Suddenly, the stillness of dawn was broken by the chirping of the cicadas. Starting with a single cheep, others joined in, reaching a crescendo.

The toy jerked. Once. Twice. Then collapsed into a lifeless heap. Akash looked at it. It was just another broken toy.

At the window

The next morning, he threw the toy into the roadside bin. But, that night, as sleep crept in, he heard it again.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It came from the window. The dancing man stood on the sill, smiling wider than before. It lifted its hand in acknowledgement and knocked on the window. Akash pulled the blanket over his head, trembling.

In the morning, the gardener handed him the toy. “You dropped this,” he said.

Akash stared at it. One arm was bent and its legs askew.