Short Stories

20)The Puppeteer and his Strings

What if there was a world where everyone is a puppet, held to the joints by invisible strings of fate only one being can change.
Sounds ridiculous, I know.
I thought the same!
Hell, there are continuous stories floating around us that tell the tales, show the signs and give the evidence!
But Christ is "Ignorance is bliss" a pain and a half.
Like I said, there are stories about "the strings of fate" all of altering words or changing titles but the order of everything is the same.
"Strings of fate"
"Red ribbon"
"Soulmates"
"Fated"
"Destiny"
It's all the same.
All the same, bull that I ignored.
There was a common tale I was told back when I was younger, just a kid.
"The Puppeteer and his puppet strings."
It tells the fable of an invisible higher up, a god-like being called "The Puppeteer '' who controlled everyone's fates.
No one could see him, although a few could see their strings or those of others.
But if you tried to change them or adjust them, they'd fly out of sight and you'd forget that the strings even existed.
Did you know you were more likely to die than to see the Puppeteer himself?
I thought that fact was hilarious when I first heard it, I mean it made sense!
Of course something that's inevitable, bound to happen to every living organism is more likely to happen than to see something that's practically invisible.
"Might as well have a DIY self-done brain transplant."
Was a common response I used to give.
Remember when I said ignorance is bliss? I never listened to those stories properly.
Because I was ignorant.
I didn't realize that they weren't just some Grim Disney fairytale told to naughty children who didn't clean their toys,
They were warnings.
Warnings to and for, everyone.
See there was a part of the story that was important, a single line that I and even others never thought about.
As often the mindset after the first told would be "well if it's that rare then we don't have to worry!"
Yes, but. . .If, or whenever you were to see the strings, that means you can see the Puppeteer.
Being able to see him isn't random.
It's not an accident that he let slip.
Not some glitch or incorrectly twisted fibre, no.
The Puppeteer never makes "accidents" or slip-ups.
You see, every living thing comes to an end.
As previously said, it's inevitable.
Whether you breathe air with lungs or catch it with gills, eat with teeth or absorb it through photosynthesis doesn't matter.
Death will happen
.And it happens to the Puppeteer too.
As he breathes just like us, unlike us, however, reproduction isn't an option, simply can't be done.
So what happens? When he passes away? When death finally takes the Puppeteer?
He chooses one with no fate.
Someone whose life, being taken won't affect those around them, the world or history.
So he chose me.
Obviously, you're never told,
No one is, we're only given signs by the previous puppet masters.
Back before I myself was told, I was in my teens if I remember right.
Before the transformation happened.
Before The Puppeteer died.
I lived in ignorance,
It clouded my vision like night fog on a bustling road, but god forbid I slowed down to check my surroundings.
I was one of the few who could see the strings,
They looked like thin spider webs connected to everyone's joints.
Small, frail and sparkling silver.
Just barely insight before drifting off above people's heads,
I always thought they were stray hairs.
It happened when I was 19.
Trying to sleep but there was an odd ache to my bones, the continuous light tug that pinched at my skin refused to let go.
It wasn't irritating or enough to make me wince, just enough to be noticeable and keep me awake.
Counting the hours felt like years, I only got to one before I saw it, or well. . . Him.
The Puppeteer to be exact.
He looked withered, lost to the days of time with old wrinkled and leathery skin.
His eyes hand sunken into his sockets so far at first I didn't realize he had any, his neck hung heavy and hunched like a loose sink tap and his arms, those fingers.
They looked stretched.
Pulled from the limbs and locked in place at a constant bend in the elbows, suspended in the air like hooks.
His fingers had purple tips.
Cut off to the endless strings that wrapped around his joints and combined into one and vanished into the floor.
He looked. . .Miserable.
He told me 3 things;
First, he said to take care of the Puppets as they're fragile creatures.
Second, he told me not to worry about the job but to never stop looking for a replacement.
Third. . .He looked at me and apologized for his appearance.
"I know I look ragged, and that I'm sorry for. But I promise it's not as bad as it looks."
Right then, my strings snapped.
The little tugs on my skin had let go,
And tied themselves around my fingers and wrists.
"You were chosen, and I wish it could have been different." I blinked repeatedly but wasn't given time to adjust despite the years passing.
I let a sigh leave my lips as I turned my head to the boy in his bed and gave a shaken smile.
"I know I look ragged," I said
"And that, I am sorry for."

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Words: 922
I can't explain where I got this idea. I can explain, however, that this took me 4 days.
Doesn't matter! I'm really proud of this because it's not the usual creepy theme.