A/N: The first Toy Story fanfiction I've done, I wrote this for my first year uni portfolio. Hope you like it. Please read and review
Disclaimer: Unfortunatly I didn't create Toy Story, much as I would of loved to so all rights for the intellectual property belong to Disney.
Whatever happened to Bo?
The cold and desolate wind blew harshly, howling around the alleyway, where Bo Peep shivered in the sodden cardboard box. Old newspapers and greasy chip paper flew around like ghosts in white sheets, while the rain continued to belt down throughout the night, relentless, until the weight of it tore straight through the top of Bo Peeps latest home. The sheep blew away in the wind. Life was beginning to seem rather hopeless.
It had been almost 8 years since that fateful day when Andy had tossed her into the box to be donated. After a short stint in the YMCA, (in which Bo had remained ever optimistic that Woody would come), she was bought by the mother of Carla, as stocking filler at Christmas. Carla was a little over 5 years old and like many such 5 year olds, was rather sadistic to her toys. After months of anguish, thrown through mud, against tress, head twisted, poked by needles, eyes penned and burned by blue felt tip, Bo Peep grew cold. She tried to tell herself she didn't care, that she could take it. But somewhere deep down it still hurt. And somewhere deep down she still believed Woody would come, that the pain would end.
But slowly, the façade became real. Her heart became hard, resigned calculated. She placed the sheep in the way of Carla's reaching hand as she searched under the bed for her, while Bo hid out of sight. Their protesting Baa's fell on death ears. 2 years, 13 days and 4 hours after being tossed aside, Bo finally abandoned hope that Woody would come. And then everything changed. The only thing she loved and depended on now was Crayon dust; addictive, mind numbing and deadly. There was always plenty around: Carla would never notice the tiny scraped finger marks in the Crimson red. It was just finding a toy that could climb up the desk and get it that was the problem. Bo was not without her charms and found herself using seduction, deception, threats, anything she could to get what she wanted. As time passed, Bo's skin beginning to turn grey, the hair to fade and the plastic to crack. Her mother of course took it to be old age, peeling paint and weakened plastic. Bo pretended that it wasn't happening. But the sheep, well, they knew the truth.
And that's how we find our young heroine in her current predicament, left in the box, awaiting to be picked up as the next mornings garbage. She was too deadened to care about escaping her fate. Besides she knew she wouldn't get far: shed been made with both legs joined and waddling toys don't get far in the rain. At around 4:00 AM, as the rain began to die down, a new sound emerged. The first vehicle to pass by in hours and the sound of its heavy machinery was unmistakable. Beep. Beep Beep. Bo turned her head to face the metal beast as it shone its bright beady eyes on her. She raised her hand to cover her eyes as it came closer, blinded. The screech of breaks. Heavy footsteps. Thud. Thud. Thud. The jolting of the box and then the momentary freefall: it was a brief moment of ecstasy that ended in oblivion. She was crushed by a broken toaster. Held down and trapped. She lay there and allowed her mind to drift of into nirvana, the way she had so many times ago. Woody voice sounded distantly in her ears, "Buzz, Buzz, give me a hand here Jessie". It must have been some memory in the recesses of her mind and so she listened to the voices in a strange sense of bliss, lying still, only wishing they could be real.