Strings

Chapter 4:The Puppet's Broken Promise

"Oh, thank you!" Elizabeth cried eagerly. "I promise to return it to you."

"Remember child, keep the promises that you make." Agatha warned. "Otherwise, the consequences will be dire."

I do not know how it happened, but at the moment there was a sudden ruffle of feathers as a Jackeray swoop passed me. The next second, a small, silver scepter crafted with great care and intricacy appeared in Agatha's hands. She gave it to Elizabeth.

"Keep your promise..." Agatha repeated one last time, her haughty voice trialing into a faint whisper. At once, the stage fell dark, it's glow snuffed out like a candle.

"And so, Elizabeth returned to the village with the witch's scepter. She set to work as soon as she got back. When she waved the scepter before anyone's eyes, they would at once be overcome by admiration for her. Soon, the whole village fell under her spell and admiration soon evolved into worship. Elizabeth was idolized and adored, so much so that she became the head of the village."

"Three years passed this way. The villagers sang praises of her, held feats and festivities in her honor and showered her with adoration she had never known before in her life. It became intoxicating."

The stage lit up again, soft yellow and orange glows struggling through the curtains, behind with the shadows of many puppets danced and sang, the soft click clunk of goblets and tableware mingling with the soft hums of the Jackerays. In the midst of it all was a puppet in possession of a thing, elongated object. They waved it around, appearing equally as animated as the rest of the puppets, who bowed and curtsied to her. A brief smile touched my lips.

"Then, just like that, three glorious years were gone."

The lights dimmed again, the laughter and merriment dying. Now Elizabeth stood alone, her little shoulders hunched, a veil of sadness and fear descending upon the stage. How a wooden puppet could show so much emotion was beyond me.

"What shall I do now?" She said, longing and confusion evident in her tiny voice. "If I return the scepter, things will go back to normal. I cannot let that happen."

"That left Elizabeth with only one choice, a choice which she made without hesitation. She broke her promise and kept the scepter for herself. The witch found out at once. Angered by Elizabeth's treachery, she placed a curse upon her."

The Jackerays' music changed once more, the haunting feeling returning, along with a sense of urgency signifying the coming tragedy.

"First, the power of the scepter reversed and instead of adoring her, everyone in the village begun to loath her, more than ever before."

The stage fell into darkness once more and I heard angry voices talking at once, unable to distinguish between one raging conversation to the other. Then came the sound of heavy breathing and running footsteps.

"They drove Elizabeth out of the village, casting her away with nothing but the scepter. "

"No, stop! Please!" Elizabeth pleaded as the stage lit up again. Now I saw the little puppet girl running across the stage, her dress flapping behind her as a group of puppet shadows followed in her wake. Both parties disappeared on the other side of the stage. The lights dimmed a little, a purple-blue hue cast over to give the impression of twilight.

"Having nowhere to go, Elizabeth wandered into the woods, stumbling through brambles in search for shelter." Elizabeth was show walking along the stage, clutching the scepter close, her red hair falling over her face. Even though I knew it was only a puppet, I couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

"Once Elizabeth was driven from the safety of her village, the witch sent her familiar after her."

At once, wolfish howls filled my ears, coupled with the sounds of panting and snapping twigs growing louder by the second. Elizabeth looked over her shoulder in what I could only describe as fear and began to run. Just then, a group of black hounds burst out of the shadowy corners of the stage.

My muscles tensed up at the sight of them. I didn't think Mr. Strings would have animal puppets and that too ones that looked as though they had come straight from a horror movie.
The puppet hounds had wooden bodies like the others, yet theirs was covered in a shaggy mass of black, matted fur. The detail that went into their creation was astounding, their faces the epitome of viciousness. Mouths were pulled back in fierce, blood thirty snarls, showcasing neat rows of very pointed, very white teeth. The eyes were small and beady, glowing red and flashing maliciously as they prowled across the stage, sharp claws protruding from underneath massive paws. I gulped as the miniature beasts stalked closer to their prey, almost fearful they would jump off the stage and attack me.

They had surrounded poor Elizabeth, who had stumbled and fallen. She held the scepter above her head as though to ward off the demonic hounds.

"Please, spare me." She whispered, and I imagined tears streaking down her little face. "Please, I am sorry."

And then the puppet turned her pretty little head in my direction, those green eyes looking more real than ever before. They bore into my brown ones, pleading for something I didn't understand. And then it was gone as the hounds lunged, surging forward with feral growls that froze my blood. They engulfed the puppet girl, whose screams of fear and agony ripped through me, causing me to cover my ears and hide my face. The growls intensified the sound of clothes and what I could only place as flesh tearing. The lights dimmed to blackness, but the sounds continued on. I felt as though I was trapped in some sort of nightmare.

The screams began to die, ebbing into silence that was more alarming than comforting. Mr. Strings concluded the story solemnly, the Jackerays following with a final, mournful note of their own.

"By the time the familiars were done, all that remained of poor Elizabeth were the blood splatters on the forest floor."