A Puppet's Dream

Reads: 340  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

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

A living marionette dreams of taking charge and control her own actions without the aid of her masters.

At first, the pitch black darkness surrounded me. Then, dozens of blinding lights flashed on, temporarily disorienting me. When my vision returns, I find myself on top of a stage, with horrible, cheap clown-orchestrated music playing in the background. At this point, whether or not I was confused, had stage fright, or not, I couldn't move. It was like my arms and legs were sacks of lead. I had no control over my body. Suddenly, without warning, a powerful jerk lifts me to my feet, but I wasn't doing it. I gaze upwards and catch a glimpse of my master's face, tugging at several pieces of string, which were tied up to my limbs. And each time they would pull it a certain way, I would follow, reacting to their movements. That explains why I couldn't move, and why I was making a fool of myself during the performance. I mean, no offense, but I don't usually do the chicken dance as my opening act. Feeling frustrated, I desperately look upon the audience, begging for them to come to my aid and put a stop to this madness. To my horror, they were laughing, and continued to enjoy the showing of my humiliating spectacle, until the curtains drew to a close, signaling the end of this terrible nightmare. Being called a useless yet entertaining \"money maker\", I was flung to the side, forced to rest until the next showing of the night. Tears were streaming down my delicately carved face. They all hate me, but they love to see me being tortured, knowing that I can't do anything about it. But I swear, one day I shall break free from my restraints and walk on my own two feet with pride. I shall take control of my own thoughts, restore all of my lost confidence, and defy the odds of the ones who say I can't, because one day I will prove them wrong. But for now I am the human marionette. And everyone who loathes me control the strings, and my entire actions and movements. Worst of all, two black buttons are sewn into my face, replacing my eyes. Now everyone looks like shadows, blending with each other in the crowd, preventing me from making the obvious distinctions of the ones who truly love me, with all their heart, from the ones who never existed, who were never there for me at all. I guess no one would be able to control me anymore if I could actually see the truth, let alone if I could take control over myself ...


Submitted: December 02, 2014

© Copyright 2021 CrazyAverageTeen. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:


Facebook Comments

Other Content by CrazyAverageTeen

Short Story / Mystery and Crime