The Puppet’s Prison
By: Nehemiah Hamilton
Ethan had always found a sense of serenity in the small, cluttered corners of his local antique shop. It was a place forgotten by time, much like how he felt in his own life. The peeling wallpaper, the dusty shelves crammed with old, broken relics. It all felt safe to him as if these objects understood his own cracks and fractures. While others avoided the shop’s eerie, creaking silence, Ethan welcomed it. The shopkeeper paid him close to nothing and even less mind, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t about the money. In the quiet, among the forgotten things he didn’t have to face the chaos of the outside world. Here, there were no judgments, no harsh whispers about him, just the comforting weight of all types of things that had been discarded from old diaries to rusty keys. Every worn-out children's toy, faded photograph all once had value and had now been abandoned here much like him. Yet the idea that something abandoned could still hold value to someone else eased the weight on his shoulders.
In the farthest corner of the shop, tucked between shelves of dust-covered trinkets and broken memories, Ethan found the puppet. Its wooden limbs were chipped and worn, hanging limply as if waiting for someone to breathe life into them. A twisted smile stretched across its face, painted with a faded smirk that seemed to know more than it let on. Ethan, with his hollow eyes and tired heart, felt the familiar strike of loneliness pull at his chest. He had long been a shadow in his own life, invisible to those around him. But this puppet…this strange, lifeless thing seemed to see him. Really see him. His fingers closed around the puppet’s wooden frame, and a chill ran through him like ice water in his veins. For a fleeting moment, the light in the shop seemed to flicker, casting long shadows that twisted into something vaguely human. The shopkeeper looking unwell and weary had muttered something under his breath. A warning that was quickly abandoned. Ethan felt a flicker of connection as his fingers brushed against the puppet’s worn skin and without a second thought, he took it home.
The first time he realized the puppet’s power. It was subtle almost like a dream. At school he clenched its strings in his fist, feeling the tension tighten around his fingers. He wished…No, he wanted one of his classmates to trip. Just a small thing, a harmless prank. And then, as if on cue, the boy tripped, his tray of food crashing to the floor, laughter erupting from every corner of the cafeteria. Ethan’s heart thudded to the bottom of his chest, not from fear, but from exhilaration. I did that. The thought was intoxicating. The puppet’s smile seemed wider now, more alive.
Days passed, and the strings pulled tighter. Ethan found himself using the puppet more and more, bending the will of others to his own whims. He wasn’t lonely anymore people flocked to him, laughing at his jokes, following his lead. Even the bullies who once tormented him now seemed to bow to his silent commands. He didn’t need to speak. The puppet whispered for him. But with every pull, the world felt heavier, darker. Ethan’s reflection in the mirror changed. His face was incredibly pale, his skin stretched tightly over his cheekbones, while dark circles settled under his eyes. The puppet sees you, it seemed to say. He envisioned transforming his frail body into one of strength using the puppet to command not only the actions of others but his own form as well. Perhaps in bending reality to his will, he could shape himself into someone who would never again feel abandoned or invisible.
Ethan stood before the mirror, puppet in hand willing his body to transform. He pulled at the strings, feeling a ghostly chill creep into his bones but nothing changed. His reflection remained ghostly with pale skin, hollow eyes, and a face like a sick patient, drained of life. Frustration built as he yanked harder, the strings sinking into his flesh. The puppet’s grin twisted in a cruel mockery, and the power that once surged through him now felt hollow, slipping away like a ghost of a dream he could no longer grasp.
One night, as Ethan sat alone in his room, holding the puppet in his lap, he noticed something strange. The air was different, sterile in a way he couldn’t place, and a faint humming sound filled the silence. The puppet shifted slightly in his hands, as though it had moved on its own. “More.” The word wasn’t spoken aloud, but Ethan felt it, deep in his chest. The puppet’s grin twisted into something grotesque, mirroring the shadows creeping into Ethan’s mind. As the days passed he found himself commanding his friends to do things. Hurtful things. Actions that gnawed at his conscience. But each time he tried to stop, to put the puppet away, it lured him back with the promise of control, of being seen.
One day, after making one of his bullies stumble and crash into the lockers, Ethan felt a sharp pain in his chest, a crushing weight settling over him when he heard the sirens wailing in the distance. The satisfaction of hearing the sirens wailing in the distance washed over him like a dark tide, but the fleeting thrill was quickly overshadowed by a reminder of the cost of his actions. Guilt? Regret? He couldn’t tell anymore. His thoughts were tangled, like the strings wrapped tightly around his fingers were suffocating them. He tried to let go. But the strings wouldn’t release him. Instead, they dug deeper into his skin, invisible to the eye but felt with every movement. The puppet was no longer just a toy. It was alive feeding off his darkest desires, growing stronger with every act of cruelty. Ethan stared at it, his breath shallow, his heart racing. The puppet stared back, its smile now gaping wide. He realized with a sickening clarity, that the puppet had never been his to control. It was controlling him.
The final straw came when Ethan found himself alone in his room, sterile and calm. He could sense everything, the buzzing of the lights, the suffocating stench of antiseptic. The puppet's strings wound tightly around his hand, he imagined them healing him. Leading him toward salvation like a nurse, promising to lift the burden off of his chest that had long shackled him. His grip loosened and a tremor ran through him, a shiver of fear struck him with the unsettling thrill of power. What had he become? The strings seemed to constrict tighter, the pressure mounting like the weight of unseen eyes watching him. “No more,” he whispered, but the puppet laughed in his mind, a chilling echo that sent a jolt of panic through him. “You need me. You’re nothing without me”
Ethan threw the puppet against the wall, watching it crumble into a heap. But as it lay there, twisted and broken, something horrifying happened. The strings, those cursed invisible strings began to slither across the floor like snakes, creeping back toward him. They coiled around his ankles, pulling him toward the puppet's grasp. With a scream, Ethan grabbed a pair of scissors from his desk, hacking at the strings. Each cut felt like severing a piece of his own soul. Pain shot through him, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
The strings fell limp. The puppet’s smile faded, its eyes dull and lifeless once more. Ethan collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. The sterile hum that had surrounded him grew louder, the air became thicker, and the pungent smell became even stronger. He glanced around, but the familiar feeling of his room seemed blurred, distant, like something out of a dream. Like he was somewhere brand new. And in the corner, where the puppet lay shattered the shadow of something larger loomed.
Ethan’s fingers throbbed, each cut and bruise a reminder of his struggle. The faint echo of footsteps approached his room. Shadows danced on the walls, twisting into shapes that felt eerily familiar, a parade of forgotten faces.
Ethan’s heart raced as he realized the puppet had led him here, not to salvation but to confinement.
“Ethan,” he said gently. “It’s time to talk.”
~The End~
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nehemiah Hodari Hamilton is a high school student from Dacula, Georgia, attending Archer High School. Passionate about technology, leadership, and literature, he is in a variety of school clubs and extracurriculars, including the Gwinnett Student Leadership Team and his podcast "The Coding Corner" and even this website. Nehemiah enjoys blending adventure and creativity in his writing, focusing on stories that spark imagination and curiosity.
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