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By L . Annette All Rights Reserved ©



White thread twirled between two pale, skeletal finger, its smoothness flittered through. Spiralling around as the puppet below waved its arms in the air. A pair of blue eyes watched, an vicious glint in their irises as they spun it around.                            

"They said I was obsessed." The man looked down to his companion, who stared up at him with big, round, lifeless eyes. "They said I was mad." His fingers unravelled the strings nimbly with the elegance of  a ghost. Creepily, he smiled, his grin wide to reveal all his teeth. His companion whimpered, her lip trembling as she tugged away from him. Looming forward, the man cupped her face with a steady hand, his solid wrist beat against her cold, wooden cheek, filling it with deadly warmth. The girl leaned away her creaky fingers clenched against her wrist. The man sighed. "They said no one sane would have think of something that deadly but I did." He breathed through a stiff mouth.

 Tilting his head, he observed the marionette that dangled from his hand. He ran a pale finger down it's stiffened face, silently, he traced its half sewn lips. "I've always been obsessed with puppets from a young age....ever since I saw it in a shop. I have been fascinated by the smoothness of their skins, their life like movements. My mother bought my own puppet set...before she died." His lips puckered as he rubbed a string in between his fingers as if it was a splinter; sharp and pointy. Twinkling, his eyes darted up the string, which twisted in the light.

His companion face remained blank as she focused on the jiggling puppet and its smiling face; its eyes stared into her soul, sending a shiver down her rigid skeleton. It swayed in the air as if the wind was blowing it and it was dancing to the soundless howl which floated around the room. The man's finger tugged at her chin, like a string on a puppet. His eyes smiled down at her, his cold fingers playing across her numb skin. “It was after that I got an idea, an idea which made them claim I was insane. I was not.” His finger dug into her chin as he sneered the words, his eyes traced her face. His companion bit back her cry as she peered into his face. The man clicked his tongue, “ I am not. I am going to prove them wrong.” His cunning eyes landed on the ticking hands of the clock that sat on a blank wall. The man sighed before muttering it was time to start. Rising to his feet, the man floated past the girl, his hand wrapping around a long curl. His companion shuddered away from him, her eyes focused on the emotionless puppet. Before she could realise, a needle pierced her arm.

Staring blankly at the man, the companion quaked beneath his moving hands. The zipping of thread sawed against her ears as the splinter broke her skin. The softness of the thread flowed through the lip and out the other side. A pair of scissors snipped. Running a finger down her cheek, the man smiled sinisterly, his fingers tying the end of the thread in a knot. Whimpering, the girl struggled against the restraints which held her to the chair, her dead eyes remained cold. Stepping back to observe her, the man grinned. His gloved fingers ran along her sewn lips. The girl frowned. Chuckling, the man clicked his tongue.

“Maria…Maria…that is not a pretty sight. Don’t make me pin those as well.” His finger jabbed her in the middle of her forehead like a bullet.

Maria? The girl thought. That was not her name.

 The man hummed as he circled around her, his hand tickling her bare arms. “Oh, Maria. I know you will be the one to be a success.” The girl shuddered, her head craning to see the man.

The shuffling of objects could be heard as she tugged at the cuffs which held her to the chair.  The man sickly humming sang into her brain, a lulling lullaby. The girl struggled, her heart thudded against her chest. Cold footsteps moved in front of her as the man held a thick needle into the air. It glinted with a heart-warming smile.

Her heart thudded.

 Grinning, the master allowed it to pierce the palm of her hand, the point appeared at the other side. The girl screamed, her cries no more than a few whimpers by the thread that connected her lips.

 The man sang to himself, his eyes tracing the needle as he tied the knot.

He would prove them wrong, he thought to himself. He would show them he was not mad.

 His eyes stopped on his companion’s face, barely flickering at the tears that ran down her face.

She would adore him.

Every servant adored their master.

They had no choice.

 She have no choice.

She would be stuck with him anyway.

He stabbed her in the other hand, her eyes scrunched in horrified agony. The master shushed her, his thumb smudging the tear away as he placed a kiss on her forehead. His soft fingers played over her soft padded skin. Pulling away, he smugly beamed at his perfect bow. Tugging at it to make sure it was tight. The bow contracted tightly around his victim’s wrist.

Next the brushes flowed gently over her skin, brightening her pale cheeks.

 Her wide eyes never left him as she sobbed to herself, her cries being swallowed by her throat.

The soft silk of a dress slipped over her head, it puffed out over her rigid form. The man’s hand fluttered over the material, his fingertips straightening it out.

He grinned before he stepped back. The girl sat limply to a chair, thread stringing from her hands and ankles. The man smiled before he approached her again. Fastening the thread to a cross above her head, the master untied her from the chair and stepped away. A low chuckle prowled the air, his eyes a light.

Slouching in the chair, he observed his work. Dangling in the air, her hair tied in bunches around her round face, the puppet stood. Her bare feet barely grazed the floor as she glared at the man, her heart shaped lips sewn together. Reaching for his cup, the man leaned back. Dead bodies surrounded them. Their stomachs ripped open, slashed and stabbed.He had grown use to their stench. In admiration, he tilted his head at the sight of the puppet. The only one to survive. His own mother failed it. But no- his Maria, his puppet, was strong. Chuckling, he spoke to it. His puppet.

“They said it was crazy. My idea. About a puppet not being made out of wood.But… ” His hand reached for a control by his side. A pale finger stabbed a button, the puppet leapt life, her feet danced across the floor. The puppet whimpered, a cry humming from her lips.Staring at her, he raised a pale eyebrow.     

“Who said a puppet couldn't be human?”   

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heich: Excellent story and excellent writing style. I hope in the future read your works.The story you present is innovative, fresh, different from everything else and let a feeling that you know you want to read more of it. I hope you continue moving in the same, because he's smart and only you know wh...

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