Original Works

The Puppeteer

The PuppeteerI can’t really recall the day I first met him. I was probably too young to understand what he was at that time. What does he do? Why was he with me? He was something I could not comprehend, and he was also something I could not discard. Since I came into the world, he has been by my side. He was a gift and he was a great gift at first. He acted as a companion and became an extension of who I was. He followed me to school, to the park, and he slept not too far from me. But as the years went by, things began to change.

There is something dark and sinister about him. I did not realize it when I was younger, but when I started to understand how he worked, I saw his true nature. What was once a docile being now took on the character of a madman. One day he would wear a smile, and the next day he would wear a frown. I did nothing to trigger him, yet he somehow managed to come alive. He … became alive.

At first I thought it was merely my imagination. How could something I had control over become independent? He was an extension of me, and if the life he had was coming from me, I should be able to stop him … right? I was wrong. The day I realized I was wrong was the day I realized that I was no longer in control. He had taken over and the roles had switched.

Those who I’ve found some form of comfort in told me to separate myself from him. But what they do not understand is that I cannot run from him. He is a part of me and I cannot remove him no matter how hard I try. We were put together since birth and we will not separate till death… and that thought haunts me. With no solution to this nightmare, all I can do now is wonder.

Some nights, I would ask myself why I let him take over, and on those nights I find no answer. It is not because of denial, but it’s because he is always there to stop me. He would watch me as I lie in my bed, staring at me with those big, round eyes. He never says a word and that makes it even more terrifying. Other nights, he would sit next to me and stroke my arms as he whispers in my ears. His words are never clear but they always send shivers down my spine.

Day was always better than night, though. I would wake up with the lack of sleep knowing the sun would protect me because in the presence of others, I feel the safest. Even though he is with me, he cannot do anything to me when there are people around. But sometimes, he would still find a way to torture me with his evil glares and sinister smirks. I do not know what I’ve done to make him treat me this way, and I wish I knew.

To be honest, not everyday is a hell on earth. There are days where he still brings joy to my life. I know I sound crazy saying that, but it’s true. On the good nights, I would hear him walking outside my four walls and humming a sweet melody. He would peek his head into my room and wish me a goodnight, but he never comes in to taunt me or watch me sleep. On the good days, he would hold my hand and whisper encouraging words to me. He would even listen to me and know exactly what will cheer me up. But that only happens on the good days.

These days, the good days have become scarce. I don’t even know if there would be any good days left after this week. He has not been very happy recently and he has been tormenting me. I wish there were more good days or at least enough to balance the bad days, but I don’t know how to bring them back. Maybe if I regain control over him, I could make everyday a good day… but how? How do I switch the roles back to what they once were? Shouldn’t it be simple? It is simple, isn’t it? Please tell me it is.

I hate what this life has become. I hate not knowing what tomorrow would bring, and I hate being so afraid. Afraid he might sneak into my room one night and end my life, afraid that he might threaten me into doing things I do not want to do, and afraid he might hurt those I love; my family and friends sitting on the shelf, watching the agony I have to endure. I’m just afraid.

Fear is all I feel these days and fear is all I have. Fear… fear of the puppeteer.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

This story is my metaphor of emotions. Emotions are an extension of us, they bring us joy and they bring us pain. But are we in control of them? Do we have control over our emotions or do our emotions control us? Do our emotions tell us what to think and what to do? Or do we keep our emotions in check and not let it take over?

Sometimes, we have the tendency to let our emotions control our actions, and there’s no harm if those emotions are good emotions. But if the emotions we allow to take control are anger, pain, and even guilt, our actions might end up being something we regret. Never fear your emotions and never give it power over you. Your emotions are an extension of who you are, and not the other way around.

I hope this story was pretty entertaining 🙂 Do let me know what you think of it in the comments below!

© 2014 Jeyna Grace

(For more short stories, click HERE)

16 thoughts on “The Puppeteer”

  1. Jeez, that was amazing! I read the first few paragraphs from the puppet’s perspective, then switched halfway and thought it was the puppeteer up until the very end. You turned something simple into something with such a deep meaning behind it. Bravo, Jeyna, bravo!

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