The Marionette's Curse

The village lay nestled in the shadow of the forest, its cobblestone streets silvered by the full moon's light. A crisp wind slinked through the trees, carrying the faint scent of woodsmoke and damp earth. It was a night like any other in the quiet hamlet—until the Puppeteer arrived.

His cart creaked and groaned into the town square, a curious contraption adorned with faded golden filigree and cracked paint. Behind it walked the man himself, a tall, angular figure cloaked in black, face obscured by the brim of a wide hat. Though late, many villagers loitered outside shops and homes, sharing recent gossip and plans for the weekend.

A hush followed by low murmurs overtook the lingering villagers as they watched the newcomer with hesitant curiosity. Whispers passed between them as he set up his stage—a simple wooden frame with a stretched canvas that gleamed faintly in the moonlight.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the puppeteer announced, his voice smooth and sonorous. “Tonight, I invite you to witness a show unlike any other. A story spun from shadow and light, a tale born of dreams and darkness.”

The lantern atop his cart flared to life, casting a golden glow that danced across the canvas. Then the shadows began to move—not simple silhouettes but intricate forms, twisting and leaping with a life of their own. The audience gasped as the figures defied logic, their movements fluid and hypnotic. Cheers erupted as the first act ended; the talented puppeteer had spun a thrilling narrative with performers made only of light, string, and wood.

Elias stood at the crowd's edge, his arms crossed and brow furrowed. Unlike his neighbours, who clapped and laughed at the show’s cleverness, he felt a gnawing unease. There was something too lifelike about the shadows, something unnatural in how they lingered just a heartbeat too long after the puppeteer’s hands had moved away. Growing up in a small, isolated village, his father had always warned him about travellers and outsiders. He insisted that their tricks and performances can lure innocent and curious souls into deceit and ruin.

The show ended with the crowd begging for encores, but the puppeteer finally had to close shop - it was almost midnight. While everyone else dispersed, Elias watched as the tall, lanky man carefully packed away his puppets. He murmured to himself as he placed each one in a simple, sturdy wooden box with a brass nameplate screwed onto the lid.

Everyone else had left by the time he finished, and Elias stepped back into the shadows of a nearby building before the man turned around to leave. He focused on the bright canvas as the man switched off the lantern. Elias felt his gut twist as the shadows appeared again for a split second before disappearing with the lantern's light.

While his mind couldn’t reconcile what his eyes saw, instinct told him to follow the man and find answers. A trick of the light, maybe? A hidden projector that would expose him as a fraud? As he prepared to trail the departing puppeteer out of the town square, he watched a small, off-white piece of paper flutter to the ground at his feet.

He picked it up and immediately recognized the cartoon image as the puppeteer himself, arms opened invitingly. The flyer read, “The real show begins at midnight; only the curious need attend.”

Elias flipped the flyer over to find a simple map directing him out of the town square, through the woods, and into a clearing marked with a simple “X.” Looking up, Elias could just see the back of the Pupeteer’s hat as he slowly descended into the foggy night. Not wanting to waste time, Elias took off after him.

The trek into the woods was short, Elias kept himself close but hidden. He stopped and crouched behind the trunk of a large tree as they arrived at the Pupeteer’s camp. A simple white tent, a dim fire, and a small suitcase were all the man had with him.

Humming to himself, the Pupeteer once again began preparing his show. He propped up the canvas and unpacked his puppets, laying them gently on his cart. To conclude, he pulled the lantern from the cart’s storage and placed it neatly by the puppet’s heads.

“You can come out now; the show’s about to begin.” The Puppeteer said without turning around.

Adrenaline shot through Elias’s chest as he realized the Pupeteer knew he was there all along. He took a deep breath, steeled himself, and emerged into the clearing.

“Ah, I thought it would be you,” The man said with an eerie grin, the corners of his mouth stretching too far up his face to be natural. “There’s a curious one in every crowd, but curiosity can be dangerous, don’t you think?”

Elias crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, “There’s no way you can create the shadows you did with those stiff wooden puppets. Do you have a secret projector back there? Or are you messing with some kind of sorcery? We don’t need any trouble around here.”

“My dear boy, I’m offended you would assume my act to be a farce. It is a proper art form - a mastery of light and illusion. Look at this gift I made just for you, and perhaps you’ll change your mind.”

“Gift?” Was all Elias could say, having expected anything but a gift.

The Puppeteer reached into his long, flowing cloak and pulled out a box similar to the ones he packed his puppets in. Lifting the lid, he carefully pulled out a beautiful, intricate wooden puppet with clear, detailed features. As Elias took the puppet in his hands, he couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity. After studying its face for a moment, Elias realized with a jolt that the puppet had been made in his image.

“What is this?” Elias demanded, trying to throw it back to the Puppeteer, but it wouldn’t leave his hands.

Before the Puppeteer could respond, Elias heard the unmistakable sound of wood creaking. A movement caught his eye, and they both looked toward the cart where one puppet had started shaking, its wooden arm raised.

“Help….. Us,” the figure squeaked. As fast as it began moving, it stopped again, and the puppet went limp. As the arm fell back down, a shadow burst from the puppet and popped onto the canvas.

“Aha!” The Puppeteer exclaimed with delight. “The show is beginning! Why don’t you settle in, Elias, and enjoy the story?”

Elias tried to protest but realized he could no longer speak. He glanced down at the puppet in his arms, a gentle creak hitting his ears as he tilted his head. Horrified, he realized the puppet had vanished. His arms felt strange, as though they were outside his body. His fingers were rigid and stiff. His legs jerked as they straightened, his knees locked, pulled by an invisible string.

He raised his head again to see his own lifeless body crumpled on the ground.

The string now curling around his neck, it turned his head to face the canvas, now filled with the tortured, contorted figures of the many puppets trapped in the Puppeteers’ grasp. An incredible force soon overcame him as he flew toward the canvas, the Puppeteer picking up the Elias puppet with care and placing him with the others. Elias found himself moving, dancing, and screaming along with the other shadows as the Puppeteer smiled his eerie smile and hummed a cheery tune.