Puppet

Time is a fathomless ocean. Our existence, a smooth pebble, bouncing across the surface. With each bounce we make waves, albeit small, temporary, ultimately worthless.

Bleak... I know, but sometimes the truth is bleak.

Time is a fathomless ocean, and sometimes the peddle just wants to drown, to surrender its fleeting act of rebellion, and just embrace the cold, and dark. And if you really think about it, oblivion is nothing more than hastening the inevitable. We're all pebbles and we all eventually sink.

This was my only sane and rational thought for who knows how many god damn years. I thought this as my body contorted, I thought this as my limbs moved to the music, as my muscles ached and pined for relief. I thought this, and as I span into the cold and indifferent arms of another.

He watched, witnessed this infinitesimal moment of awakening and the bastard grinned. And just like that, the moment had expired, my body, my mind, was once more in complete control of my audience. A single seat in this vast chamber and gleefully absorbed in the performance was the master of these puppets. My body contorted, my muscles pined for relief and yet relief would never come. Muscle's tore, ankles broke, feet bled, puppets danced. The song, the stage, the dancers, remained the same and always would.

What joy could he really take from this monotony?

The music ceased, as abrupt as if it never began, the strings puppeteering me relinquished just enough control that I fell the floor panting, barely able to hold myself upright. I tested my body and sure enough my arms couldn't hold my weight. The strings, although slack, were very much still present, I could feel them in the back of my mind, waiting, observing, just as curious as I.

Footsteps. Slow, purposeful, menacing, approached. Every step oozed rage, I winced as they ceased directly in my eyeline.

"Alfred?"

"Yes?"

"Is something on your mind?" he asked. I didn't need to raise my head to know that he was grinning, the bastard knew full well what was on my mind. He was of course in all of our minds.

After all these long years, I had learned as much about him as he had me. I knew when to hold my tongue and when to speak freely. When he was being playful, and when he was bored, or upset.

"Speak."

I sighed, and without hesitation he kicked me. One moment I was here, staring only at his shoes, the next, I was thrown across the room, on my back, gazing at the endless stars.

"Speak." He whispered in my ear.

This was new, I had never seen him like this before. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry and beg for mercy. This was unknown waters, after all these endless years I finally felt the call of time.

"What would you like me to say. Master."

He chuckled. It sent shivers up my spine, the laugh sounded as alien as it did genuine, and it fucking scared me senseless.

He leaned down to meet my eyes with his own, those two burning suns were focused on me entirely and in them they held interest and excitement. Whatever was happening right now had shocked him as much as myself.

"You have a question for me, go ahead ask it."

I shook my head and steeled myself for yet another beating, instead he placed a loving hand on my shoulder, and it felt akin to being stricken. It shocked and surprised and took my breath away as effective as any blow could. Emboldened by his actions I took the bait and asked.

"Why do you do this? Why force us to dance unending to the same unending song? What possible joy could you get out of this twisted and sadistic game?"

He smiled and turned to gaze upon the two corpses in the room clutching their instruments, currently they were very much dead, but soon enough they would reanimate only to resume their twisted and blasted song that like them never expired.

He frowned, thinking over the question. I waited patiently, what was a few more seconds of eternity really?

"I'll answer your question with a question of my own. Why do you dance?"

I laughed but noticed that he was being genuine, the question was as sincere as it was serious. I shook my head and answered.

"I don't."

He nodded and looked like he about to say something when the two corpses in the room began to move, their bones cracking as they began to strike their instruments once, and just like that I was a puppet once more. Any sense of self was utterly obliterated with the call of the music. I danced and lunged, and twisted and turned, my body danced whilst my mind replayed my answer to me. I don't.

He once more, sat and cheered, whistled, and applauded but his eyes met mine and in them I saw something that destroyed any notion of deluded freedom that I had been desperately clinging to all these years. I finally had my answer.

We're all just pebbles making waves. Kings, Paupers and Puppets. And sooner or later, we all fucking sink.

A singular tear escaped me as my body turned around slowly, spinning on the spot, building momentum with each and every turn. Despite the nausea, the speed, the blending and distortion of my reality, my vision focused on the two dead musicians in the centre of the chamber and after all these blasted years I had one last realisation before everything went dark and my mind was too controlled. The two dead musicians weren't just playing music, they were also looking at each other and smiling as they played.