The Human Puppeteer

It had started off innocent enough. A harmless dare game, jokes, and forbidden alcohol. But when she asked -no- told me to go to old ‘Marionetelli Theatre’ , I wish I had said no…however, I did not, and there I was. A force field of thunder seemed to dominate the sky, held up by lightening and angry clouds made of ink. The weeds were wild and adventurous, filling my sinuses with the stench of decaying leaves, alongside the wiry grass which caught and pulled at my trouser leg to warn me of the horror I was about to see when I looked up at the building itself in the dim light of the storm.

Rotting, splintered wood hastily covered moss-encrusted bricks missing chunks of their normally solid shape, and the pieces attacked the ground that they fell upon. The sign hung, rusted and faded, but intact, telling me I was in the right place. Abandoned carriages lay on their sides, or completely upside down. Rats scurried in and out of them, scouring the grubby landscape for food. None awaited them. As I went toward the door, a melancholy feeling of caution overtook me as I reached for the handle. Overall, it was dominated by rust and stains painting it. The knocker was gone, so I took a lock pick from my pocket, twisting and turning it until a click resounded around me. Almost immediately, stage lights flickered on around me, and from what I could see, the inside was just as bad as around it.

Glinting needles were scattered over the matted carpet, some stood up straight, sharp as a blade with the threat of piercing the foolish person who attempts to travel to the stage. On the contrary, the stage looked polished and well- made, making a spectacular masterpiece to stand out against the state of the room it was in. Despite this, i had to ruin it’s untouchable beauty by breaking it’s polished coat. I harshly knocked on the walls and demanded a show. The response was terrifyingly extreme.

The previous needles rose from their place and impaled my arms, ripping the skin apart and placing large strands of wire into the agonising wounds. The same was repeated with my other limbs, pushing me down onto a worn, fabric covered chair. The velvet shield covering the stage lifted, revealing two people I knew well on it. They were my best friend Gabriel, and the girl who had sent me there… but that fear didn’t compare to the horror that was their faces.

Gaunt, hollow mouths were sewn into bloody, open grins, ,and their empty eye sockets wept the same maroon tears as they were dragged into position by the same wire now being secured by threads in my arms. Their hair was of a woolish quality, as if their real hair had been torn from their scalp and replaced by the material I saw now. They bowed, releasing a trickle of blood onto the place in which they stood, which quickly disappeared as if it wasn’t there in the first place. After this, their hands were locked together, and began a waltz that I could barely focus on due to the pain of my internal organs being ripped from my body, then my torso being stitched back into a normal shape. An audience of corpses sprang to life beside me at all angles, happy, angry, upset, oblivious. All clapped at the dance, some sobbing, complaining, others just mindlessly giggled and hummed with an insane tone. Most sounded pre-recorded, like a jukebox, or a radio. The dance finished, and the hands came to my eyes. I thrashed against it, but with the slowest, most excruciating pace, they gouged my eyes out. The last thing I heard and saw was the words,

“Quantum meruit!”

I danced with grace and beauty,

They all saw me dance,

But none of them helped me,

So beside me, they all dance.

Marionettes for Master,

He made us all dance

With that gaunt expression,

He puts me here to dance.

As I twirl and wave

The room shall start to dance

As they take his body,