Molded in Our Image

“Ouch!”
The boy stepped back to nurse the small wound, having been pricked by one of the many shards of glass that littered the floor.
“Knock it off, you baby! We have to be quiet!” The brother yelled rather ironically.
The boy mumbled some phrases most 7-year-olds wouldn’t have ever dared to utter. But such was the way of the Pike family, made up of two boys, a mother, and a father. The four lived in a large house on a hill, relatively isolated from other neighbors or people in general. Especially this time of year in the summer. The town in which they resided was small, simple, and plain. However, times had grown difficult a few years ago, when the boy was too little to remember. Abandoned houses littered the old windy streets. They were tantalizing to young adventurers. On warm days like this, one wanted to be out in the world, exploring the unknown, and just about anywhere but inside.
Shaking off his injury, the boy kept bumbling about looking for something interesting. His brother happened to find the window. A deafening creak filled the silence around them as it swung open, causing dust motes to become visible fluttering around both of their heads. The brother grinned.
  “Pretty nice, huh, Nico?”
Nico nodded, wanting his brother to leave him to explore and go back to his own thoughts. As Nico turned, he caught a glimpse of something odd. A loose floorboard near the corner of the old store. Stumbling around overturned chairs and slipping on loose papers, he eventually reached his destination. Suddenly, despite the original excitement, he came to a screeching halt. It’s probably nothing, right? What if it’s something secret I’m not supposed to see? I should move on. But what if it’s a mysterious passage? What if there’s a treasure trove down there? Joey would love that. The boy’s brother, Joey, just then happened to glance at his watch, and noted it was almost curfew.
“We have to go, Nico!” He bellowed.
Now or never.
Using his boyish chubby hands, Nico tugged at the plank. Barely budged. A seven-year-old’s strength is rather unfortunately limiting. But now, he was invested. It was just like one of his mystery books! The thought he might be like one of the Hardy Boys fueled him with determination, and he pulled at the wood until his face turned tomato red. Finally, the floorboard gave way. Proudly wiping the sweat from his brow, Nico peered inside.
Unbelievable, he thought.
A bright red tin box coated in about a million layers of dust lay at the bottom of the shallow pit. All that work, for a flimsy tin?! Furious, the boy snached the box from it’s musty prison and stuffed it in his coat. It was still his prize. Maybe Joey could fill it with fireworks or something later, but for now, he felt an unrelenting urge to keep it hidden. Oddly strange.
Upon arriving home, Nico scurried up the stairs as fast as his small legs could take him. Nearly tumbling over the top step, he finally reached his bedroom. Entering, the boy plunked himself down in the center of the fuzzy blue oval carpet covering the floor. He opened the box.
“Clay?!” he whisper-shouted. The lunchbox was lined with plastic-covered multi-colored coils of the squishy substance. His rather active imagination was a comfort to his initial disappointment of the discovery, and was left to stew on the walk home. It left him hopeful of much, much more. He didn’t even know the first thing about clay! Crestfallen, he tossed the tin under the small plastic table in the corner, glanced at the clock, and groaned. An hour until dinner. Nico looked to his small bookshelf. All the books were already read. He glanced at the desk. Not a scrap of paper to draw on. Exasperated, he ended up subconsciously reaching for the box again. He stared for a moment. Then, made up his mind.
The remnants of many green shades of clays sat atop the peeled off plastic wrapping. Nico worked with the material until he had an odd almost reptilian interpretation of what a head was supposed to be like. The boy quickly finished a poorly shaped body, and left it to dry. He glanced at the clock and was surprised with how much time has flown by. He headed downstairs to dinner.
After about an hour, he trotted back upstairs in much higher spirits. Mom had made spaghetti for dinner, Nico’s favorite. The creaky door to his room opened with the usual groans as he walked inside. Casually glancing at his little table, he noticed something. The clay creature was gone! Mortified, Nico turned around the room with wide-eyes. If he had gotten anything on the carpet, Mom would kill him. After a few minutes of fruitless search, overturning pillows and carpet corners, he was beginning to think Joey had somehow managed to take it. Suddenly, a tiny crash make him jump. It had come from the bookshelf. One of the neatly organized picture books from his shelf, courtesy of his father, had come crashing to the ground. He crept over, thinking the impossible, and peered behind the shelf.
The tiny clay creature stared back at him.
How in the world?
It waggled its head in obvious anger. Could it talk? Nico noticed the creature's sealed shut mouth. He had thought it would be okay if the mouth just looked similar, but apparently it was not so effective. Whoops. The creature fell to the ground on uneven legs, hitting and sending another book to the floor as it did so. Nico scooped it up and set it in a bug jar on his table.
Was there any way he could make more?
Abruptly excited by his god-like power, he grabbed more chunks of clay and began smashing them together. It wasn’t long until another creature, much like the first, was completed.
And he made another.
And another.
And yet another.
He ended up with about 10 creations, including the first one. A few were already starting to dry and animate themselves. Nico giggled, near mad with power. He sprinted to his closet, snached a shoebox, and tossed every new and exciting critter inside. A bit cramped and dark, but probably good enough. Deciding to wait until tomorrow to see everything when it was dry, he pulled on his pajamas and drifted off to sleep in time, quietly smiling about the idea of an ordinary boy becoming a god.
When morning came, Joey wanted to head out to the ghost houses again. When Nico declined the offer, his brother grew irritated.
“Why not?” he demanded. “Too scared? What have you been smiling about all morning, anyways? What are you doing?”
Stunned, Nico thought his seven-year-old self had done an excellent job of keeping a good poker face at breakfast. He hadn’t checked on the creatures yet. About to reply with some generic response, his brother huffed and stomped out of the house. Nico couldn’t help but feel relieved. Sprinting up the stairs two at a time, he threw open his door and yanked the lid off the box. His mouth fell open with surprise. There were shapeless lumps where the animals once stood, only one creature standing amongst the massacre. This one had red and green chunks stuck in it’s teeth. He had designed it with an open mouth, and sharp claws. Dismayed, he reached to pick it up. As his hand moved closer, the animal drove it’s tiny needle-like teeth through Nico’s skin. He cried out and jerked his hand away. Nico grabbed the bug jar used to house his first creation from it’s resting place. He reached and dumped the contents of the box into the jar, flew down the stairs, out the door, and into the woods of his backyard. Grabbing a sandbox trowel on the way, he began to uproot the earth someplace in the middle of the forest.The boy dug until he had a hole as big and deep as it needed to be. As he stuffed the jar inside, he couldn’t help but feel a little scared as he happened to catch a last glance of the furious creation. The last of the dirt tumbled over the thick glass.
Nico didn’t touch the clay for another three months, but couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it away. He kept the still nearly full red tin under his bed, and went about his life as if everything was normal. Time crept on, and the leaves began to change. The boy found himself drawn to the box. What else could he make, and how could he have made his creations better? Finally, he simply couldn’t resist. Nico removed the tin from it’s hiding spot, and set to work. This time, he was positive he’d get it right. He’ll make the perfect creature. Hours and hours went into his work, shaping the bodies into forms. They were relatively in his own image, with a few changes. Figuring they would only come to life as soon as they dried, he kept them wrapped in plastic and sprayed them with a perfume bottle filled with water every once in awhile. He figured he could work on them longer this way. The excitement of the work’s nature lead him to places his mind had never even considered wandering to. He could make anything he wanted, couldn’t he? Anything he pleased was possible. Getting them to perform as he wanted would be child’s play. Nico now spent most of his time hiding away in his room to work on his attempt. After about a week he finally finished building. They were perfect. Almost. As the boy thought more, he wondered if the surroundings had any effects on his creations. He found a large cardboard box, and stashed it in the corner of his closet. When questioned, Nico replied it was only to get rid of old clothes. His mother was delighted by this.
“You’re such a responsible boy!” She beamed. Nico only nodded. He piled other clothes on top of it as a disguise, and actually cut up one of Joey’s old shirts to glue together as clothing for his new interests. A small bowl of water in the box would serve as a lake, so they could swim! There was a small desk lamp too, so they could have a sun to be warm. Snippets of yarn littered the area for some grass, two tiny cut-up soda can bottoms held dirt for a few weeds Nico pulled from the garden. He carefully placed each masterpiece in the box. Feeling bashful at the completion of his projects, he thought to himself, why can’t they make their own things? They were made to be like him, after all. He dropped the remaining contents of the tin into the box. All there was left to do was wait.
The experiment worked marvelously. The creatures lived and carried out their own lives, satisfied at making their own devices with clay and exploring the limits of the box. Nico occasionally let them out, but never many at once, and always with his careful supervision. He couldn’t afford another slip-up, not when he had come so far. Today he decided to let out five creatures. One, being curious, grabbed a needle Nico had used to shape their eyes. At first he didn’t protest, Nico typically let them explore and use whatever they wanted. It was good that they learned. But the figure picked up the needle and tripped, accidentally driving the sharp metal through the foot of another creature. Becoming rather alarmed, the boy tried to pull it away. He pricked his finger and drew blood. The clay creature was taken aback and started to run back to the box. Nico dove across the floor to grab him, gathered the rest in his arms, and deposited them back in their homes. He scratched his head. All of this taking care of the creatures added on to the excitement of the exchange was making him exhausted, and for some reason he hadn’t been able to sleep properly as of late. He turned off the booklamp and closed the box, silencing the tiny world inside. Nico crawled into bed, completely unaware of what would greet him in the morning.
As he awoke, Nico crept out of bed in the early hours of which he rose. It was Saturday, and the burdens of this school week had been lifted. Snow drifted outside the window. He walked the short distance to the closet, where he opened up the box and peered inside.
An impaled creation was being held in place by a needle, completely lifeless. Other bodies littered the ground, and a small hole looked as if it had been drilled into the side of the cardboard prison. A weird series of sharp devices were strewn about the floor. The boy realized they were made from the clay he had provided them with. Panic was the only word for what Nico felt at that movement, consuming him to the point where he could only think one thing.
I have to catch them.
He sprinted downstairs, a paper shopping bag in hand. There were 13 in all he had to find. One by one, he spotted creatures in corners and under chairs. One was armed with a sharp sword-like weapon, and sliced his hand. Grunting, he snatched the clay being and stuffed it in the bag. He covered his hand with his sleeve until he uncovered a bandage from a junk drawer. When he had opened it, two things were hiding inside. He ripped open cupboards, tipped furniture, looked anywhere and everywhere. It took him hours, the search ending with all captured at 6 AM. Frenetic, he looked into the paper bag. This had to end. Nico no longer cared about any of the creations, he had seen what they could do. He had seen what they would do, no matter what. Nearing the fireplace, Nico stuffed newspaper inside and snached a box of matches from the nearby windowsill. He stuck one, and tossed it into the already present pile of dry wood. It caught quickly. With a sudden outburst of power and rage, he chucked the bag into the blaze. While the snow fell like ash outside, Nico watched as his creations and the world he invented went up in flames.