THE GREATEST MARIONETTE SHOW

Neo admires his art. He creates every puppet with intense passion and meticulous care. Unlike other puppeteers, his design is life-size puppets that depict actual humans because of his extraordinary artistic talent. He laughs at those who call their life’s work dummies—it’s only a representation of the puppet master and what they represent. 

He sits in his art studio painting the numerous dolls, contemplating how every idiot who shames him is unworthy of eyes. Neo never had a successful show. The amount of hours he puts in don’t equate to his cruel reviews, yet he continues to perform to the best of his ability. His assistant constantly tells him not to give up, and she’s right, though every newspaper or magazine article sometimes makes him regret ever picking the career.

Tomorrow night, the curtains will open for Neo again. After a month of preparing, painting every puppet and testing his machine, he’s confident in a grand show, or so he tries to convince himself. He knows the show needs something more, something spectacular! It has to be a show like no other in order for him to, finally, be in the public’s good graces. 

He sits down on his stool, adding a few final touches to his works. 

“I can make the show perfect for you, Neo.” The sound of a stranger’s deep voice startles him, knocks him over. “Who is that? How did you get in here?” he asks. 

A shadow casts over his studio light, and when he looks up, the tallest, most gruesome creature captures his eyes. It stands in the dark corner, beady eyes staring, and jagged teeth showing in its wicked smile. “Who—no, what are you?” 

It stomps closer to him. Neo tries to move, but his legs are stiff with fear. “What do you want?” he asks. “Just take it!” He shields his eyes, hoping the monster will go away. He thinks he might have been in the studio for too long, sniffed too much paint, and is hallucinating. 

“I know exactly what your show needs, Neo,” says a deep whisper once the footsteps stop.

The different voice strikes him as odd. He peeks over his arm and sees the light is no longer blocked and the creature is gone. “What the Hell, Neo? You’re more washed up than you thought.” He complains to himself.

A creaking sound coming from the puppet surprises him. His heart sinks down to his stomach and his skin turns cold when he sees it staring at him. “I don’t think you’re washed up at all,” says the puppet. 

“Did… did you just…” Neo can’t believe it. In a panic, he pushes the puppet down. It looks back at him with angry eyes. “This is madness!” he screams. 

“No. I’ll show you madness.” The marionette rises from the ground—taller than he built it—Neo stares in awe as the fingers he crafted dig into his chest. “I’ll show you a real puppet show.” It lifts Neo in the air, then rips apart the skin and flesh of his torso. 

***

Today is different for Neo. He’s woken up with no recollection of how he fell asleep. The last thing he remembers is working on his creations at the art studio. His eyes struggle to open, yet he’s not exhausted. The blurry image of a woman standing before him implies he’s never left his art studio and his assistant is taking care of things for him. She’s stuffing the puppets. He calls her name, but can’t move his mouth. He tries to get up, but every part of his body is numb. 

“Time to hang you up,” says an unrecognizable voice. The person in front of him turns around. It resembles a tall, gray blob, and it’s holding a puppet in his hand. It comes closer. Neo tries not to breathe, then recognizes he can’t do that either. He deems himself under sleep paralysis. 

The stranger comes closer to him and hangs up the doll right in front of him. In his mind, he’s screaming at the sight of his assistant’s face, and the fact she now has a hook going through her back. Then, he wonders if there’s one in his back too; they’re at eye level and she can’t seem to move either. 

“It’s almost time for the show, Neo.” The gray thing appears in front of him. Impossible for it to have so many eyes and teeth. He wants to awake from this nightmare. It lifts him in the air, then hoists him to the hooks connected to the machine he built to control his puppets. 

“How are you doing this? Stop, please!” begs Neo. 

“I promise, this will be the greatest show of your career.” 

A bright light shines in his face, the big red curtains open up, and there is the audience. Neo still can’t determine if he’s in a dream world. There are a few people sitting and waiting for the show to begin. But he doesn’t have his material. He can’t remember going over his lines. Suddenly, his body starts moving, and in ways he’s not telling it to. His arms are wiggling and legs dancing, and words he hadn’t thought of are pouring from his lips. The small crowd applauds, so he doesn’t mind. 

His body is in tune with the music, much smoother and better choreographed than he could remember, yet there’s a looming sense of despair wrapped around him. All the other puppets, familiar and strange faces, express sadness and anger, the only ones with smiles on their faces are the members of the audience. Neo tries to get a better look at those people, but his body won’t stay still. Whatever dream this is, he can’t wait to wake up from it. 

“Time for the grand finale!” shouts a voice from above. 

His body comes to a complete stop and faces the audience. The lights shut off, not a common feature of his shows, but he can’t move so he plays along. A red sparkle trickles down from above then explodes into fireworks, shining light on a miniature room with a person sitting down in front of a bunch of standing, black silhouettes. Before Neo’s eyes, the room becomes larger than him. “Wait… is that… me?”  

His bewildered eyes watch the dark, humanoid figures creep close to his doppelganger. “You all belong to me! I command you! Obey me…” his other self screams. But they don’t listen. They raise the weapons in their hands and start stabbing him… everywhere. Every stab, slice, and cut to the body pinches his soul. The nightmare is getting worse. He begs to wake up. His blood covers the walls and floor, the mannequins stand around him, laughing and holding hands while he coughs up blood. 

“What is this? What is happening?” He cries, in shock that he just watched himself die. 

A hideous creature appears in front of him, each mouth on every one of its gruesome faces moves, “you still don’t remember?” It laughs. “Keep watching.” 

“Remember? Remember what?” 

The show continues. The mannequins have a new marionette. “We’ll use this one,” they say. Neo wishes he could shut his eyes, or turn away from the horror of them prying his back open with their bare hands and pulling out his innards. They stuff his gut and organs into the puppet, and moments later, it comes to life.

 Neo watches in awe. 

“What have you done to me?” 

“We made you one of us. Now you’ll know what it’s like,” they say. 

A sinister laugh echoes. A black shadow consumes the room. “I… like… puppets… too.” The shadow becomes a tall monster. It stands in the corner, its beady eyes fixate on Neo on stage and in the room. 

The lights shut off again. A fire erupts where the room was. Figures appear in the flames, screaming and begging for the torture to stop—their bodies controlled by strings attached to long, clawed fingers. But they’re not asking for whatever evil to stop manipulating him, they’re asking Neo. Their cries are for him. He doesn’t yet understand until a rush of memories swarms him. The person he was before…

The monster shows its ugly, smiling face. 

Neo was obsessed with his marionettes, in an almost sick and disturbing way. They became everything to him; his children, his wives, his friends, and when he couldn’t deliver a perfect show, he blamed them. He hit them like they were living, breathing people. Neo tortured his puppets by hanging them, put the ones he hated the most in the incinerator, beat them until they broke, or purposefully made them ugly to represent people he despised in his real life. He was never good to them. 

“I can’t watch him do it anymore. How do I help him?” His assistant’s voice silences his thoughts.

“Assistant? What is this?” he asks. 

Memories that don’t belong to him reflect in the flames. 

She’s naked, rocking back and forth in the middle of a pentagram, candles and human skulls all around her. “I know how to help you, Neo. I’ll free you from the torment of your own mind,” she says. A hand comes out of the circle and grabs her face, pulls her into the ground as it climbs out—a deformed creature covered in blood and wandering eyes. It crept into Neo’s art studio and fulfilled the ritual Neo’s assistant called for. 

 “I’m… dead… I’m… dead…” Neo repeats. 

“Quite so!” laughs the monster staring down at him. “And you’ve inspired me, Neo, to make my own puppet show!” 

A smoke explosion consumes the entire area, then dissipates with the snap of a finger, unveiling the horrific world Neo lives in. The grand theater has become a fire pit where black-winged hellions roam around stabbing, hanging human bodies with their searing hot spears, throwing bodies in the flames, eating flesh—humans in cages that dangle above fire geysers, bodies falling from the sky and land on metal spikes, and it’s all orchestrated by the marionettist above who controls the strings with a menacing smile on its face. 

THE END