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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Can a puppet make it on their own without the Puppeteer? What is a puppeteer without a puppet?

The puppeteer had been pulling on my strings for ages. It wasn’t painful, it felt like my own actions, but it was not what I wanted. The actions didn’t portray me in the way I thought was best. I desired to be greater, superior. I wanted to become the puppeteer. Be the one to pull the strings, to control my actions to get what I wanted. The puppeteer never knew what I craved, but I do.

One day, I resisted. I stood up and tugged against the strings. Trying to get loose. To my shock and surprise, the puppeteer let go. I look into their eyes, full of sadness and love, as I felt my body go limp.

I fell to the ground. I tried to get up, but I couldn’t. This filled me with panic. I tossed and turned, trying to do what I wanted. But all I got was tangled strings. Wrapped around my throat, torso, arms, legs, I have never felt so much pain in my life. The heaviness of the strings and handle, it was unbearable to carry the weight.

The strings dug into my body. I felt fatigued from the work. It was a big mess with the knots tying my legs together, arms together.

I cried. When the puppeteer was in control, I never got hurt or tire from the weight. This was torture. They knew what was best for me, but I was blindsided from my wants that I failed to see my needs.

Thankfully hearing my cries, I see the puppeteer. Their warm eyes, caring smile, gentle hands, they picked me up and took a look at me. I felt so ashamed. It was like being put under a microscope and observed for all my flaws.

“You’ve gotten yourself into a tangled mess. How about we fix it up,” they say with humour. Though I am upset, I can’t help but smile. Maybe I wasn’t being put under the microscope for my flaws to be observed, but my perfections.

“Thank you,” I choked out to them as we both work together to untangle me.


It took some time to get the jumbled mess sorted. A lot of work, but it was worth it. I still have dents from the stings, but they are slowly being fixed.

The puppeteer and I also have gotten closer too. We talk a lot more and I can give requests, unlike before where I felt like I couldn’t. I am always free to do what I want, but I know it never has a good outcome. Always ends in the negative.

When I was laying on my bed, talking to the puppeteer, I ask him a question. I was scared to ask him, but I guess I was too curious.

“Puppeteer, remember when I was alone?” The puppeteer gave a sincere smile, reflecting on what had occurred. “Why did you come and help me?” They weren’t shocked by the question it was like they were expecting it. 

“I am not a puppeteer without a puppet. My title would change.” The puppeteer stared off into the distance. “I never left you. I was by your side the entire time. Waiting until you accepted me.” I sat there staring at them.

I never left you. I felt so alone. Distant from everything. I started to cry as I felt a hand pat my back. I am home. I am where I meant to be.

Submitted: May 20, 2020

© Copyright 2023 T Fisher. All rights reserved.

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