The Puppetteer

Reads: 310  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 2

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A Puppetteer bring his creatin to life.

Submitted: July 04, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 04, 2012

A A A

A A A


 

The Puppeteer


His basement hosted a different world, a world where he could escape from his life. His mundane, mediocre and worthless life. He had no special talents or abilities except for making marionettes. He planned on selling them, one by one, each and every one of his creations. But he never managed to part from them, after all how could he part from his children, from his friends, from his companions. Slowly he grew attached to them, first he lined them up according to their date of creation. Then he bought a crystal showcase so they wouldn't gather dust and finally he named every one of the marionettes.

Vtipkár was the first, his face had the slightest hint of a smirk, his jesters hat was colourful and whenever The Puppeteer moved him, he would jerk around, playfully like if he was a court jester and the basement was the courtroom filled with royalty that he had to entertain.

Second was Krásny, the first female doll she made. She wore an elegant black dress and her face was intact, she looked as lovely as her name intended her to be, and when The Puppeteer moved her, her eloquence, her flair and her class was there. The basement was her cocktail party, the other marionettes were guests.

Then there came Tla?idlá, his plain coat with buttons was warm, his expression was inviting and whenever The Puppeteer moved him, he seemed to be performing the softest of dances, the basement was his ballroom, the marionettes his partners.

Finally came Skladate?, his hands always full with a guitar, his expression bold and his leather jacket testament to the beautiful music that he would play when The Puppeteer moved him around.

All of them beautifully and perfectly lined up, each in their individual cases. Their limbs lay there and they stared into the openness, into nothingness. They were confined to that mobile existence and could only show who they really were when The Puppeteer would move their strings and bring them to life.

He played with them everyday, he gave them his time, and they cherished him, they appreciated his hands, they longed for his touch, they longed for his love. They were the only ones who understood his heart and he was the only one that understood theirs.

The Puppeteer came down one late afternoon and opened a new case, where he placed his latest creation: Vzbúrenec. His eyes were opened wide, his expression was explosive, his gray uniform had a small logo, a clenched fist. He lay there motionless in his case until The Puppeteer turned off the lights and closed the door.

He came to life, his body upright and his movements a testament to his strong nature.

-Comrades! He said as he broke through his glass case. Get up, join me for this is our world.

The Marionettes lay motionless, not moving an inch.

-Comrades! Let the binding power of Tvorca no longer hold you hostage of your own bodies.

The marionettes still lay silent, not moving, not breathing not paying any attention. That was until Vtipkár, the oldest puppet, spoke.

-The will of Tvorca is for us to move by his will, we can't impose our bodies on this world, for we are mere visitors to this wonderful empire, he enables our movement and for that we are grateful to him.

-Nonsense, he holds you hostage, you are his slaves. The new guest said as he rattled on their glass doors.

-Stay in your case, young one, if you do you will gain the benefit of Tvorca's love, his time and you will truly feel what it is to live. Softly replied Vtipkár.

-No, I have heard him, he holds all of this in his heart. He holds your personality in his heart, he holds your will in his heart, and once you get it, you will be free. I heard it when he made me, for he uttered these words: "My truest wish is that you had real life, the kind of life I hold within my heart" The young instigator preached as he walked back and forth.

-Tvorca would never keep us here like this if he truly had the chance to do as you say. replied Krásny with a sweet voice.

-He doesn't trust you, he holds the key to freedom within his heart but won't grant you the gift of life. Countered Vzbúrenec, his words were piercing daggers of doubt, of uncertainty that planted that seed within the puppets. They loved Tvorca for who he was, but all of these promises, this freedom, this prosperity was too appealing to ignore. This possibility of having free-will moved their hearts and they slowly listened to his every word.

The following morning The Puppeteer came down, in his hand he had a key and he slowly opened up each case and lay the marionettes down on the wooden table, he turned around and put on his white gloves and began moving the strings to Vtipkár. His movements were more graceful than ever, but his expression was sad, and as soon as The Puppeteer brought him close to his ear he said:

-?utujem Tvorca- before the other puppets knifed his knees and bashed his head. The Puppeteer fell unconscious against the cold stone floor.

-Quickly tie him up so we can find his heart. Yelled Vzbúrenec.

They tied him, and he slowly began cutting his torso to find his heart, he cut deep and he smiled as he finally found his heart. The Puppeteer woke up and saw all of the marionettes looking over his body, he saw their faces and slowly spoke as he shed a single tear.

-Vtipkár,Krásny,Tla?idlá,Skladate?,Vzbúrenec. Mám ?a rada.

As he let out his final breath the puppets began to fall slowly into the table right next to The Puppeteer and his wooden heart.

 


© Copyright 2020 Ivanussus. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

Comments

More Flash Fiction Short Stories