Spiral Wrapper

Cat Puppet

Rain made a soft pattering sound against the window pane, curtains hung forlornly, the walls of a pale room. While the dark and inky black of the world beyond, was a stark contrast to the white walls within. A small boy, lay curled up on white sheets, he looked frail, his expression somber as he stared at his heart monitor, the blips irregular.

With a sigh he turned on his side and hugged a black cat hand puppet, burying his face in the fake fur. Slim shoulders trembled as the only sign he was crying, for he made no other noise. The puppet was worn in places, it's fur loved smooth in some places. Clearly it was very old and very dear to the boy.

A very calm and comforting voice cut through the silence and began to tell a story. The boy would have been startled, but he didn't appear to have the energy for it. Gradually he propped himself up to look towards the noise. In front of him, sat a young man in the visitor's chair with a very old book in his hands.

The boy studied the stranger curiously, tilting his head sideways, they were dressed very primply, a starched collared shirt cuffed with sleeve garters. They wore a blue vest which matched his trousers. Dark hair was parted to the side, and round rimless glasses sat perched on his nose. Yet it was the eyes that ultimately made the boy relax, they were kind eyes sure, but there was also a heavy and unimaginable sadness there. Such that was mirrored in his own.

Without thinking, the boy reached up to try and smooth down his hair, which one might describe like that of a bird's nest.

When he saw the boy had finally noticed him, he said, "Hello...." and held out a lollipop with a gold spiral design on the wrapper.

"Who are you?" The child's voice was weak, but curiosity got the better of him. "Are you a doctor?" He asked, reaching out nervously to take the lollipop.

The man smiled again and shook his head, "Just visiting my-" the words seemed to get stuck in his throat.

Popping the lollipop in his mouth he watched the man with a sad expression. The boy reached out to touch the older man's hand, then looked down surprised, "Your hand is cold."

To which the other only chuckled for a moment, but his eyes glinted with the hint of tears as his hand twitched as about to return the gesture. Instead he closed his eyes for a moment, to clear his face of the emotions that threatened at the corners of his mouth, there in the subtle trembling of his lip.

The boy must have noticed, for he said suddenly, "Mister, I'm sure they love you very much! You should be with them. Don't worry, I have Fatty to keep me company!"

The unexpected comfort made the stranger blinked and watched as the boy he held up the puppet. There was such a light to the boy, that another flicker of despair crossed his features for a moment, and it was a moment more before he was composed again. He ducked his head and bent over, shoulders stiff.

The boy's face turned sombre again as he saw the stranger's grief. He looked down at his plushie and used his hand to make it move.

"What do you think Fatty? Do you want to hear a story?" The cat nodded and patted his puppet master's face. Smiling feebly, he nodded to the stranger and curled up again.

Reaching out with the cat puppet, the boy gives the other man's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Sir? Would you tell me your story?"

The weariness on the little face was evident, he curled up on the bed and waited, the lollipop in his mouth with his other hand curled around the stick.

Nodding, the young man opened the book again and began to tell a tale of a great hero. A hero who always found the princess they swore to protect, no matter how long it took. He waited for her, and made sure no harm came to her. His voice, the rustle of pages, the beeping of the monitor, were the only sounds in the room. The rain outside was tapping harder against the window, as if it knew what was to come.

"Sometimes he failed though, and yet, he was always there. Never to be alone. Even in her final-"

Yet before he finishes, a harsh sound cuts through the air. The puppet slipped and fell to the ground, the lollipop falling from tiny lips, as tiny eyes closed, one last time...

The man sat there for a moment, the next page in his fingers. Now the tears that he'd been holding back slipped down his cheeks to stain the pages of the book. If one looked closely, one could see that some were far older, and they were on this page alone. The next words stuck in the back of his throat, his lips parted. He pursed them now, and hung his head. The puppet lay forgotten at his feet and looked up at him as if sad in it's own way.

He stared back at it for a moment before bending down to pick it up. Trembling he held it close while he finally looked at the boy for one last time.

Straightening up slowly, he tucked the little hand under the sheet and pulled it up over his small frame. He touched the boy's cheek for a moment, before pulling away...his finger tips the last to leave.

Turning around with a wave of his hand, darkness engulfed the visitor; he turned around and glanced back a moment before vanishing.

There was a smile on the boy's face.