18.10.13

Puppets



Puppets
            I walk downstairs, normal day as ever. I must have been half asleep, because the stairs seemed to take me five minutes when normally they took seconds. I walked through my computer room, with no worries in the world.
            Then I entered my kitchen. I sat at the table, and realized that I still hadn’t seen any of my family. Then I turned around, and there they were, wooden arms hanging crookedly at their sides, strings extending into the sky and cutting off a few inches above their head. Their heads were tilted to the side, with the pieces of paper with their faces on them attached to where their face would be.
            My heart started pounding, and I knew I was about to start freaking out. I had to think fast, what would be the safest route to take right now? So I decided to act normally. I forced a smile at them, and said “Good morning guys.”
            They just stood there staring at me. Not moving, not talking, just staring. They had no eyes, yet I could feel their glare. They had no mouths, yet I could see their snarl. Then finally, the mannequin that was supposed to be my mom moved.
            When she moved, it was more terrifying than when she was staring at me. She moved in a disjointed, choppy fashion. When she moved her arms up, they swiftly rose then came to an abrupt stop. When she walked towards me, her legs swung as they moved, her entire body leaning towards the direction she moved in with her, head flopping all over.
            She reached me, and gave me a hug. Her cold, wooden skin felt splintery and uncomfortable. She then spoke, which was the most terrifying thing of all. She turned an everyday phrase, good morning, into a demonic utterance that should be banished back to the depths of hell in her lungs from whence it came.
            When she spoke, it was as though somebody was rubbing two cheese graters together, and ran it through a machine to make it deeper. The very sound of it sent chills down my spine, and made me shiver.
            I reluctantly hugged back, and everybody else said good morning as well, though not in quite the same pitch. My dad’s was lower, my sisters’ higher. After we had finished our awkward greetings, my mom asked if I wanted a bowl of cereal. I said “Yes please.”
            She then moved in her disjointed way to the cupboard, and got out some cereal. She then poured it all into a bowl, and gave it to me. The cereal, however, wasn’t something I particularly wanted to eat, considering that it was wood.
            However, not wanting to offend my would-be family, I ate it. As I ate it, they all simply stared at me. With each bite splinters got into my gums, with each swallow splinters coated my throat. By the time I was done, blood was seeping out of my mouth and I was in horrible, horrible pain.
            As soon as I finished, my family rushed me out the door, yelling about how I was going to be late for school. Their voices were even worse when they spoke louder, the grating sound combined with shattering glass to create a cacophony of horrible noise which somehow formed together to create words.
            I quickly got out of my house and down the street, eager to be away from my family. I walked down the street, with no cars passing by, and there weren’t even people walking the street.
            As I got to the corner, I ran into my best friend. Or who would have been my best friend anyways. He was a puppet too, and I got even more terrified. This invasion into my world went beyond my family, it extended into other people as well. Who knew how many people were like this in the world?
            I muttered out “Good morning.” And he said what I think was a response in kind. We walked to school silently, just staring straight ahead. As we were walking up, there were still no people passing us on the street, and no cars driving.
            When we got to school, he stumbled off on his own, while I walked to my locker. I was passing more people on my way, but most of them had no faces. I saw some people I was friends with who had faces, but everybody else was just a blank faced mannequin.
            I got to my locker, and opened it. But in there, was just one piece of wood with some carvings in it. I took it out, and inspected the carvings, three altogether. The first one was a series of inscriptions in a circle that looked like they could be letters. The second one was inside the first one, and was the same series of inscriptions but in the form of a square, with each corner touching part of the circle. The third one was inside the second, and was a series of inscriptions in horizontal lines, filling the square.
            I wondered what it all meant, and stood there staring at it for a good ten minutes trying to figure it out. Then I turned around, and there was a group of mannequins surrounding me, staring at me. All of them faceless, just standing there.
            Then a noise resonated throughout the school, which I supposed was a substitute for the class bell since everybody walked off in different directions. I walked off to my first class, which was math.
            I got there, and everybody was already in their seats, staring straight ahead, faceless. I sat down in my seat, and the teacher got up there, faceless. He started making incomprehensible noises, and everybody seemed to perk up. Their heads stopped leaning to one side, and their arms straightened out a little.
            He then drew three things on the board. The exact same things that I had on my wooden tablet.He pointed at these, and made a series of noises. The rest of the class repeated these noises. He then walked over to my desk, because I didn’t. He then repeated the noises, louder.
            I couldn’t make those noises if I tried, so I stayed silent. Everybody in class was staring at me now, and I felt terrified. He got up in my face, and basically shouted the noises again. I made a feeble attempt at the noises, which seemed to agitate everybody.
            Everybody in the class was clamoring, making a series of random noises. It was like the cheese grater sound, but without making words. The teacher was loudest of all, simply yelling out random sounds. My hair was standing straight up, and my teeth were on edge from these sounds.
            Then, it started. They all ran at me, and the teacher got to me first. He slapped me across the face, leaving splinters and a stinging sensation across my skin. They all started crowding me, and beating me down.
            I managed to get out eventually, but by then I was covered in splinters, cuts, and bruises. I ran into the hall, and there were more mannequins moving towards me. I ran, dodging as many of them as I could.
            I tried going down the stairs, but there were too many of them, they were blocking me. So I did the only thing I could do, I jumped out of the window. I was only on the second story, so it wasn’t too high, and I landed on the grass. It still knocked the wind out of me though.
            As I stumbled back to my feet and began to run, more puppets were descending from the sky, and as they landed they started chasing me. I was running, running, nonstop running. I ran down the street, across the forest, never stopping.
            But I still couldn’t escape the puppets. I still couldn’t get away. They were actually gaining ground, despite my best efforts. I ran and ran until I couldn’t run anymore. I collapsed on the ground, defeated.
            That’s when they surrounded me. They just stood there, staring at me with their faceless faces. There was no room for movement even, that’s how close they were, just staring. There was no noise, nothing. Not even the birds tweeting.
            Then they picked me up. They began to carry me, through the woods and on to the road. They held me above their heads, and I was too tired to fight back. They carried me up the road, and I was just laying there, limp.
            Then, they stopped. They circled me, holding me above them in the center of the ring. Then they dropped me, and started kicking me. They kicked and stomped me into the ground, splinters piercing my skin and blood dripping from me. Then black faded in.

9.10.13

Dead Man's Bay

 A dead man on his dying day,
as he comes,
a frayed man walks into the fray.
With the beat of the drums,
and the horses bray,
as the bullets go hum,
at the Dead Man’s Bay.

Tomorrow’s too late,
today is the day,
the morning will haste,
at the Dead Man’s Bay.

At the heat of the rifle
and the spray of the gun,
at the prayer to Michael
tomorrow will come.
At the heat of the rifle,
and the spray of the gun,
remember these men,
at the Dead Man’s Bay.

Tomorrow’s too late,
today is the day,
the morning will haste,
at the Dead Man’s Bay.

1.10.13

The Boy in the Dust

 A spider scuttled across my foot, a rat crawled across my chest. There were more than one on me at any given time, all slowly tearing away at me. I was bound to the dust, as though by ropes, though none held me. I was forever connected with this place, my own little piece of hell.
    
     I tugged at my imaginary ropes, as I tossed dust all over myself. I tugged and pulled at my constraints, vied with my bindings, forever in turmoil, forever in conflict. But there was no hope, for nothing was my enemy. Emptiness was my foe. Nobody opposed me, and naught was my oppressor to be found.

     As I lay there, the boy in the dust, slowly rusting and rotting away, I knew that there was no escape. For my enemy, foe, and oppressor was but one. The one who opposed me, the one who despised me, and whom I despised, was a single entity. That enemy, was myself.