Puppetry

Princess of Secrets/Wedding Bells/Clear Throats

"So--you're gonna wait until--when? I or my parents die? Because the wedding bells are gonna be funeral bells in...I don't know, 2095 or something. I'm not immortal, as much as humans think they are most of the time--so please give me the confidence to do something soon...grant me the desire to come closer to your church, hell--present it as creepy to my stepmom and dad if you must...but don't let me leave your side, my Lord. Don't let me live in secrecy forever."

The blood. Red as a ruby, splashing on the dirt like rain. "I hate--I mean, even if I wasn't the misanthropic bastard I am today, I'm still in mighty hatred of my mind right now. I don't think clearly anymore, you know? It's annoying...and frankly sad, that in pursuit of my--"

"Art, you forgot your humanity? Ah--the tormented artist trope. Hm, how sad and pathetic...for you, anyway. I've seen some downtrodden artists, but you're one of a kind...you, you..."

The heart, now plastered on a stick as if it were just a slab of meat, beat once or twice and squirmed, dripping in fluid as viscous as sewer water or urine. 

"I'm a rebel princess, and? What's it to you? Neutrality's my game, dude. Even if you use my heart for a–wand? Stick...wand–okay, I'm still me...who are you, anyway? Are you still God or is this somebody different? BeCaUse YoU TaLkeD LiKe ThIs BeFoRe, and now..."

"AH, YeS. WoULD yOu MiND ClEarING MY ThRoAt, SwEEtHeart?"

"Sure, why not, but the witches might hear me..."

"No need...No NEED tO PaNiC aBoUt thEm, We CaN HanDLe ThEse LoSeRs. I'vE DEaLt WiTH FaLsE PrOpHetS BeFoRe."

"And I am not? Really? I am not one of those babbling magicians who profess they know you? You haven't made some giant mistake?"

So the unbroken stream of dialogue between us had ended, with me triumphantly holding the bloody stump of a head high in the air before once again falling asleep in what I assumed to be a ring. Just...a ring, with an adder stone or two lying around it--it was too bad, then, that I didn't notice the strings around me as I fell asleep in the wood, slowly but surely attaching themselves to my back like they were meant to be there but never had the chutzpah to be implanted.