The Strings of the Puppet Master

The Strings of The Puppet Master.jpg

There were dead children everywhere. Hanging from the ceiling. Lying on the floor, sitting in chairs. I had to hold on to the wall not to fall. I turned around. There was no door. The door I’d come in through was gone.

Hello.

He was standing in the shadows on the other side. The Puppet Master.

What is this place? I could hear my voice trembling.

These are my dolls, he said. I could see his face now. He was smiling. -My children.

But they’re real! They’re… Dead.

Not dead, he said. Just… beyond. Don’t worry, they’re not suffering. They’re living the play every night as if it was their first, as if it was their life. Isn’t it beautiful? They live one life after another. They’re privileged.

I looked at a child hanging from a pole, his hands tied over it. He turned his head, looked at me. His eyes were empty. The one in the chair moved. I backed away. Another got up from the floor. One fell from the ceiling. They came closer. I picked up a broom stick to defend myself, but couldn’t hit any of them. They were just kids. They pulled my clothes and arms, climbed up on me. I fell to the ground, children covering me completely. Everything went black.

I’m standing in my town, talking to my wife. My wooden body moves as destiny decides. The world is made of paper as it has always been. There are faces, people, looking at me. Laughing. Applauding. I don’t know who they are, but it doesn’t matter.

I just want to play my part.

https://www.theodysseyonline.com/puppet-master

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=puppet%20master

Do You Want to Know the Future?

31 Comments

  1. A fun – yet sobering – read. I wonder the story is not based more reality than not, especially in this time during which most are playing their roles? Perhaps it emanates from Washington, DC, where the Puppet Masters abound. Nice.

    Liked by 2 people

      1. Dystopian mixed with fantasy. All good writing (in my opinion) should contain double entendres. I liked its brevity, plus that you didn’t fall prey to explaining all of the hows, whats and wherefore.

        Liked by 1 person

        1. Edit, edit, edit … rewrite, rewrite, rewrite. That’s the majority of the writer’s life. Not the Scotch at night, nor the revelatory imaginings. The blood, sweat and tears of crumpling papers, starting over, and overcoming – finally – the need for perfection before you put it out there. That’s what I hope most for WordPress, that readers are also writers, and that they will say something that helps or even hurts (ego-wise) the writer. I still edit and change my work, even years after I’ve posted it. That’s why I refer to my WordPress site as my writing studio, where everything is a mess and confusion seems to reign. When I was a reporter I worked on a story for weeks, and pounded out a 1,500 word masterpiece. My insidious editor made me edit and cut the story to under 300 words. I hated him.

          Liked by 3 people

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s