Puppet

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
In the middle of a wonderful dream, Stan Pike is interrupted and wakes up to a horrible nightmare.

Submitted: July 21, 2016

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Submitted: July 21, 2016

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Stanley Pike woke up in his bed, shaking the last withers of sleep from his eyes. In his dreamsa, he had been ascending a large staircase, ones with clouds all around it like something from a fairytale--when there was a great big slamming sound from somewhere far away. This wasn't in the dream, no siree--it, unfortunately, was in real life and it was also very close to where Stan slept, booming like the sound of some giant that smelled the blood of some Englishman.
 His eyes darted around, searching for the source of the sound, and soon enough they found it. He saw that his entire bookcase had crashed to the ground, books laying with their covers turned inside out and some of them opened completely, facing the floor so Stan could only see the covers. He arched his body and reached for his cigarettes, coughed a little, and lit one. "No need for fear, it was probably just the house settling or something." He laughed to himself, but something deep down told him that no, that wasn't exactly it... there was something more going on. But he shook those feelings off; he didn't want to even entertain that.
 

  As Stan finished off the cigarette and began to ash it, he heard another loud bang in the doorway right near his room. Again, it sounded like the footsteps of a giant, not in loudness but in sheer radius... if that made any sense. The banging sound traveled up the wall outside the door leading to his room, as if something were feeling around for something... the doorknob. Whatever it was outside of his room, Stan was sure it was reaching for the doorknob.
 He pulled the covers up to his face, that classic ritual that was practiced by kids all around the world. As Stan receded deeper and deeper into the fortress of his bedsheets and blankets, whoever or whatever had intruded on his home came closer and closer to the knob. By now, there was about three layers of blankets and sheets covering him... and then he heard the door open. A strange whistling sound filled the room, the sound of a man who had just ran a marathon. Stan peered through one of the many cigarette burns in one of his blankets and gasped--his suspicions were confirmed. This wasn't someone, but something, something straight out of a nightmare.
 He only got a glance, but he saw enough to know that whatever it was wasn't natural. It moved like a ventriloquists puppet from Hell, fussy and erratic, as it got closer to his bed. It was as if Stan's life were a movie that was in the process of being edited and the creature was some sort of CGI effect that would be taken away due to it not being... right. That was the perfect way to explain it; the thing was there, but at the same time it just... wasn't.
 

  As Stan cowered under the blankets, the thing began to speak. At first it was nothing but a few gurgles and chokes, but after a while it became something that were words... to an extent. Its voice was similar to that of one that was familiar to him; a circus was in town, and he had heard the announcement of its opening over the radio a few times. The voice he was hearing now was similar to the announcer; the voice of a clown, an old clown, not one that you'd find at a circus, God no, but one you'd discover in a dilapidated house in the middle of the night. One that didn't want to entertain you, but wanted to entertain itself.
 

  "Geeeet the fuck out of that bed!" The voice shrieked, and Stan gasped. He slowly rose up and looked out from under the covers. He had closed his eyes momentarily, and when he opened them, he saw that the thing was mere inches away from his face. Stan's face was now pallid, his heartbeat irregular, like the footsteps of a rabbit that knew a predator was nearby.
 

  "I said, get the FUCK out of that bed." The thing said in the upbeat voice, and twirled its body around. When it finally came back to look at Stan, he swore that there was a wink hidden somewhere in the clay-like flesh of its face. "Come see the carn--GET UP--ival tod--AND LOOK--ay!--AT ME--" The thing shouted, and Stan did just that. The creature wiggled and jiggled like human Jell-O, the way people sometimes melt into the floor in a cartoon. Stan closed his eyes again, and felt a strong, doughy hand wrap around his. Before he even knew what was happening he was jerked into his living room... except it wasn't his living room anymore.
 No, it was something like a theater--an old-timey theater where kids would view puppet-shows and laugh at the pure absurdity of it all. Stan looked around, taking the sights in--there was an audience, but they sure as shit weren't anything close to human. In fact, they looked pretty similar to the thing that interrupted Stan's sleep. This simple fact made his mind go in a split second. All those years of logical thinking down the drain. The absurdity of what was going on around him challenged him... and he just snapped. The creature pointed at the stage and suddenly Stan began to feel like he was shrinking. Shocks of torrential pain flowed up his arms, shoulders, and legs as thick wires burst out of them. He was moving, but his body was out of his control.
 

  Blood filled the stage, and before Stan blacked out he heard the thing say one more thing in that strange voice: "There's always a time to have a laugh at yourself, keed."


© Copyright 2017 Chris D. All rights reserved.

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