Curtain Down

Chapter 13 - Who's Pulling the Strings?

Author's Note: Gosh, it's been a few days. But, here we are. The next chapter. I hope you enjoy it :)

*****

“How long are we going to sit here for?” I asked, shifting my legs into a more comfortable position.

“Not long.” Said Erik “it’s getting dark now. They should...do something soon.”

“I still don’t understand why we’re hiding under the table.” I poked my head out for a minute, looking around the room before slumping against the wall again.

“We’re not meant to be in here.”

“Then why-“

“We probably won’t hear the puppets from anywhere else.”

“Look, your father won’t find us here. He’s at his party.”

“You never know.”

I rolled my eyes “we should have gone to wait in the room with the puppets in.”

“They might be shy.”

I gave Erik a look then and raised my eyebrows. “Shy?”  He shrugged and looked at the floor.

We sat in silence for a few minutes when I heard a tapping. A clatter of wooden feet. I felt Erik flinch beside me “that’s what I was talking about.” He said.  Slowly, I crept out from under the table and straightened up, wincing as my knees cracked. I listened carefully as Erik got up and stood beside me. Sure enough there was a tapping coming from the floor below us.

“Come on then,” I said, walking out onto the landing where darkness sat thick and heavy. When had it gotten this late?

“The days really do get shorter in winter, don’t they?” Said Erik, shivering slightly.

I stopped halfway down the stairs and said “are you coming or what?”

“I...I think I’ll just stay here.” Said Erik, looking around nervously.

“Coward.” I hissed.

“I’m not-“

“Coward, coward.” I whispered as I made my way down to the next floor “coward.”

“I’m not.” Said Erik, following behind me.  I reached the bottom of the flight of stairs and turned to corner. I saw Erik standing awkwardly on the landing and, grinning wickedly, I let out a strangled scream. The look on his face as he jumped was priceless and I burst into laughter, clapping him on the shoulder. He frowned as I gasped for breath “that wasn’t funny.”

“Oh, but it was.” I said, calming down “you should have seen your face.” He didn’t say anything and I made my way to the door of the room the puppets were being kept in.

“Wait,” said Erik. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” I paused and in that silence there was a tapping.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“I’m sure.” I said, turning the door handle.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

This time, when Erik jumped, I didn’t laugh. I didn’t call him a coward. No. Because I was just as afraid as he was. My hand shook as I looked at the puppet stood in the middle of the room. Slowly, it advanced towards us.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I held my breath, frozen to the spot. I wasn’t sure what to do. How to react. That was when the puppet tilted its head to the side and, I swear that smile got a tiny bit wider. But that was impossible...wasn’t it? The puppet clattered to the floor, its limbs all mixed up and its strings tangling around its body. This seemed to unfreeze me and hesitantly, I walked forward. The puppet was as lifeless as ever. Just a wooden doll. “What...was that?” Said Erik, his voice shaky.

“I don’t know.” I admitted, picking up the puppet and staring into its glass eyes. Quickly, I turned it over, not wanting to look into those eyes and tapped its back. I listened to the sound it made. Flesh and blood against wood. It was hollow. The puppet was definitely hollow. I frowned deeply and then, a horrible realization dawned upon me and I dropped the puppet into a chair next to me, backing away as fast as I could.

“What?” Said Erik.

“The puppets move on their own.” I whispered, tearing at my hair. “They...they move.”

“I know.” Said Erik. I was expecting him to come out with some clever comment but he’d obviously been rather shaken by the puppet as well.

“What are we going to do?” I said.

“I don’t know! Why do you think I asked you to come and look? You’re the expert on puppets.”

“Puppets don’t usually move by themselves.” I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face.

“Maybe it isn’t.” Said Erik “maybe there’s someone pulling the strings...we just can’t see them.”

*****

The puppet walked along the street, a bundle in its arms. It was a terribly cold winter and, if the puppet had breath, it would have surely shown in the air before it. It just walked steadily on, that painted smile on its face. The bundle in its arms shifted slightly. That was alive. The puppet was sure the creator would be pleased with the child. The baby wrapped in a blanket. It was sure of it. The puppet tapped away on the cobbles down the street. The baby slept on, oblivious to the fact it was getting further and further away from home.

In the morning, two parents found their child gone. There was no forced entry. No signs of a struggle. There was nothing, except...a doll. A puppet to be exact. It was lying in the cot where the child had lay. The covers were folded as if they hadn’t been slept in and there was the puppet, its glass eyes shining. There was no murder. Nothing brutal. But the child was gone. It was gone from the safety of its home.

It was an awfully cold winter. The police thought that the child would have died. It must have, for there were no places close by to take it. To hide it. Oh, how closed police could be. How they thought they knew everything. But they didn’t. They never would.

But, were they right? Had the child died in the cold?

*****

Author's Note: Hm, was hoping this to be a little more exciting. Well, I'll let you decide that. I hope you enjoy it - thank you everyone for reading :)