The Puppet's Little Secret

The Puppet’s Little Secret

            You were my puppetmaster, and I was your slave on strings. I held you happiness, and you were my pride. Day in and day out, I performed for you, dancing at the end of my strings. But I was willing.

            Before you were my puppetmaster, you were sad, but I was just a friend, and I could not help as I was. So I brought you some string and two pieces of wood. I held out my wrists to you, and you took two golden bangles and locked them onto me.  I showed you how to tie the string, how to nail the boards, and soon, you had me as your puppet, helpless of her own accord.

            I forgot about myself to make you happy. I awoke when wanted, did what was asked of me; I was your friend, but also so much more. You started to forget about me, then. Had I not performed as well as you would’ve liked? Had I made you unhappy? Was I a failure? …did you hate me? …was I going to lose you?

            For my sanity I said no, I had done nothing to displease you, but my mind screamed that I was lying to myself, protecting myself. You put me in the closet and left me there that night. I cried out for you, but you didn’t hear me; you weren’t listening for me. I was…alone.

            My eyes burned and my face dampened then, but I knew that there was no use crying for you anymore. I yearned to claw away the strings, the wood, to free myself, but I will not hurt you even when you hurt me. So instead of clawing away at my bonds, I clawed away at myself.

            The next morning, you came and cut the strings from me. You took my bindings from me, and you took away what I was to you. I was left with nothing. You talked as if nothing had changed when you ordered me to leave, and as one last show of what I was meant to be for you, I obeyed.

            Again now, I am your friend, but I still feel the phantom strings attached to me, and they let me follow you as I would have before, and still I dance for you. To you, it is as if nothing had changed. But what is a willing puppet without her strings? What is a willing puppet without her puppetmaster?

            I see you with him, and I yearn to reach out to you. Now, you are the one dangling from his strings, though you think your feet are firmly on the ground. I can’t help but wonder if you remember me like I remember you. Do you remember how it felt to have my strings, or do you only remember how it feels when he has yours? I fear the latter, but I daren’t hope for the first.

            There is one thing though, my former puppetmaster, that I haven’t ever told you. The golden bangles you branded me with still hold steady around my wrists. Though you have let me go, I am still yours.

 

Author's Note

Comments, questions, reviews? Whatcha think? Written AM of 7/29/1

Reviews

[RonnieBreight]

I think it really interesting. It makes me wonder just exactly what the relationship was between the puppetmaster and the puppet. At first I thought it was a boyfriend, but then you say that the puppetmaster is now the puppet for someone else, so maybe he was just a friend. Hmmm. That's realy interesting. But Iove the imagery and idea. How even though he's hurting her, she won't leave him, and she hurts herself instead. It's twisted beauty. I love it. You did a great job.