Short Horror Stories

The puppet master

[Art made by: Shyrrn - YT: https://www.youtube.com/@Shyrrn]  

The room is dark.

Is it even really a room?

I don't know.

But there are stage lights, so it's probably a room.

The stage lights are for my puppet show.

I control all here.

I am the puppet master here.

An invisible jester.

A magician without a wand.

And a wordless storyteller.

It's a magical show and I am the one in control of the puppets.

It is a show about life and a show about death.

A show of the fortunate.

A show of the unfortunate.

An everyday story.

An awesome adventure.

Out of all the puppets, there is one in peculiar, that I have the most control over. It is also the one that takes the most out of me.

There is a crimson thread coming out of each of my fingers, like that of the veins in a body.

Maybe they are my veins.

I don't know, it's not important.

Four parts of the legs, two of the arms, one for the body, one for the neck, one for the head and one for the facial emotions.

I, of course am also able to control the others to a certain extent, their crimson threads are bound to my own arms, legs and neck.

Maybe we are alike.

It might look a little silly, but even so my control over them is almost flawless.

This is going to be another great show.

This is going to be another great day.

Another hope for applause.

Another hope for approval.

In this room, where the audience goes unseen and the light only shines on my puppet show.

Honestly I'm not sure if there even really is an audience, but it doesn't matter.

No time.

The show starts.

And the curtains rise.

The protagonist wakes up and gets ready for its work.

As the public watches the puppet moving as if it was alive, I can hear some gasps.

Did I really?

Perfect, it is all going smoothly.

After a long day being overworked it returns home for a late dinner.

It decides to watch tv.

The crowd seems to have gotten bored. Maybe I should let something weird happen the next day.

At night the protagonist stares up at the ceiling, wishfully hoping for change in its repetitive and stressful life.

I can show this without sound, without words. Just the movements, lights and the face.