As time went by, the perception of time for The Wooden Puppet began to shift. The days seemed to stretch on endlessly, while the nights passed in the blink of an eye.
Every moment spent without the company of the little light was a time of anguish, and the puppet, who had spent his time on earth alone, was no longer capable of such.
For The Shiny Star was his only means of feeling; he yearned for her presence, feeling the frustration of being unable to hasten the time until their next encounter.
For the second time, he felt small.
Unable to bear the bitterness of feeling so utterly powerless, every day, when the sun rose, he screamed silently within, tormented by his inability to be with the little light.
But, poor Wooden Puppet, unaware that the sky changes from season to season, what a surprise he had when night fell and he could no longer see The Shiny Star...
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The Wooden Puppet
FantasyIn the heart of a shadowed forest, where no light trespass the leaves of the trees, there lies The Wooden Puppet...
