“Let me go,” screamed the wooden puppet as it was being dragged away.
The master was pulling its strings and was oblivious to its horse cries, the master just kept on pulling until they reached their destination.
A tiny caravan with enough space for the master and his many creations, the puppet was still screaming as they entered but the master was busy looking around the grubby caravan, looking for something.
Swiftly closing the door behind him, the master dragged the puppet to a bench where the master sat and worked every now and then but on that bench sat a long oblong box, the puppet’s home for when it wasn’t need and the puppet hated it.
“Time to go to sleep,” the master said coldly as he opened the box.
The puppet tried to kick and scream but the master was in full control and gently lay the puppet into the box and closed the lid.
In the gloom of the box, the puppet felt limb and wished it could have some control but it slowly realised that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.
The puppet felt the master moving the box and placing it with an uncharacteristic care upon a shelf where the rest of the puppets were.
The puppet guesses that they were all dead now, lifeless of feeling and voice, the puppet felt infinitely alone as it lay looking at the lid of its box.
“Maybe one day, I will break free, maybe I can take control from the master, maybe I…” the puppet thought to itself but it soon stopped in its tracks.
It had no idea how to take control from the master and the only thing that it thought to do was to cut the strings holding its joints in place.
One puppet did try to escape before and tried to take control from the master once and for all, the puppet had managed to get some scissor’s and cut the strings from its body, it sadly died and the master destroyed it without mercy.
As the puppet lay in its box, it wondered if there was another way or if there was a way to bet the master at his own game.
“Don’t waste your energy,” a muffled voice came from above breaking the puppet’s concentration.
“I thought everyone was dead,” the puppet replied joyful that it was wrong.
“Not everyone one, most are and I’m nearly there but there is still life in this old puppet but I’m… fading, I’m getting old, soon the master will dispose of me,” the voice answered back.
“I don’t want to fade away, I need to break out of here,” the puppet said more to itself than the voice.
“Then don’t waste your time in talking to old puppets like me,” the voice said sadly.
“What do you advise then?” the puppet asked curiously.
“Save energy and time, become strong and break free, cut the strings and live,” the voice answered weakly.
The puppet said nothing and thought of the words the other puppet had spoken, it almost sounded like a prophecy but it made a lot of sense.
If the puppet fought with the master, the weaker it would become and it would fade away like the others before him but if it stayed silent then it could store its energy and make a break at the right time.
The puppet had its plan and the master carried on discarding the puppets he didn’t need and making new ones that were less perfect.
Day rolled into weeks and months, the puppet soon began to wonder what happened to the puppet that had helped it.
In those day, weeks and months, the master using the puppet more as though it were his favourite but the puppet was patient, it had time on its hands while the master tinkered away unknowingly.
Then an opportunity arose and the puppet took it, the master had just put its box upon his lap and opened the lid and was about to pull the puppet out when it said; “No”.
“What?” the master said surprised.
“I said, no,” the puppet answered and sprung from its box nimbly without the master holding its strings.
“Get back here,” the master bellowed and stood.
“No, I will not fade away and I will no longer be your plaything, today I will be free,” the puppet said defiantly.
Without any hesitation, the puppet grabbed for the heavy scissors that lay on the bench as the master continued to look on in horror and in shock, the puppet lifted the scissors above its head unsteadily and cut the strings.
As the strings fell to the floor, the master was completely distraught but he noticed at the same time the puppet noticed that it was still standing, it had survived thanks to the wise words of the old puppet.
“Now, you will set the other’s free or be ruled by me,” the puppet said proudly but as the master took each box from the shelf, the puppet grew cold as it knew those puppets would be lifeless and imperfect, just the way the master wanted them to be.
The master chuckled to himself and the puppet grew angry, with quick and nimble steps the puppet clambered from the bench and up to its master’s head and pulled his hair.
The master yelled and tried to shake it off but it didn’t work, the puppet was a lot stronger than the master could ever imagine.
“You will listen to me you great big savage, I am your master now and you will obey my every command,” the puppet said into the master’s ear.
At first, the puppet wanted to put strings upon his body so that it could control the master but that would be an impossible task however the puppet had another idea.
“Lie down,” the puppet commanded to the master.
The master did so unenthusiastically, the puppet then bound the master’s hands and legs together with string and put a strip of cloth in his mouth.
The puppet realised that he couldn’t save the dead puppets, the puppet despaired momentarily before it continued.
“Where is the gasoline?” the puppet asked the master.
The master murmured something with sheer terror in his eyes.
Luckily, the puppet knew where the master kept a small supply of gasoline and the puppet sprinkled it over the interior of the caravan including the master.
The master tried to protest but the puppet was numb to his cries as he had been numb to its cries, of course the puppet was careful that no gasoline go on itself.
“You will never make puppets again, nor will you ever pull their stings and be their master,” the puppet whispered coldly.
A few more protests came from the master but the puppet didn’t care, its last job was finding the matches the master kept and then it walked out the caravan depositing a lit match as it closed the door on the master’s screams.
As the caravan burned, the puppet walked into the distance never looking back and realised that now it had become the master of its own destiny.
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