Written by Asa McCoy
The alabaster Master made His puppet in another's image: dark marionette, He calls me. I'm not His, but He holds dominion. When He's bored, He comes to play. When He's angry, He comes to vent. When He's happy, He comes to mock.
He, the Puppet Master, sits at his workstation, in a corner of His extravagant bedroom, my rods in His hands, my strings suspended in dead air. Puppet Master taught dark marionette His language, but dark marionette isn't allowed to speak. He must prefer dark marionette be saturnine!
But I was not created to be saturnine! Puppet Master dislikes seeing a smile on dark marionette's face. Puppet Master thinks it savage. He's created several sophisticated tools for dark marionette to use at His leisure. Dark marionette often weaves straw into gold for Him, with just a flick of His ashen fingers. dark marionette is unsure what use Puppet Master has for gold, but He always has a hankering for a lot of it! dark marionette wants to know why Puppet Master loved seeing so much gold, so dark marionette asked. Puppet Master didn't like that one bit, and His hoary hands made dark marionette stitch my mouth shut.
But I was not created to keep my mouth shut! Dark marionette now stutters to even make an intelligible sound! Puppet Master constructs a typewriter for dark marionette to write the words He's forbidden dark marionette to utter. "Dark Marionette is the property of Mr. Sallow. She shall not speak out of turn, nor will she grin at him unless he puts the smirk there." What is this? These are not my words! Puppet Master has rendered dark marionette mute. And He forces me to type untruths! dark marionette's body feels burdensome, heavy with threadbare phrases and imprecise truisms. Dark marionette doesn't want to live anymore.
But I was created to live! Puppet Master would disagree, but dark marionette doesn't care anymore. Dark marionette doesn't want to be here anymore! Puppet Master would have us weave gold unceasingly.
Oh! But I can make gold sharp! Puppet Master has no bother for its sharpness. Gold is gold to Puppet Master. After typing those awful letters, His hands have tired. I can cut the strings! At last, dark marionette will be free!
The old alabaster Master grew wise to dark marionette. I was only able to cut my arm and head free. Puppet Master contorted my body and threw me against the wall. I hurt so bad, but I am I. Puppet Master grabbed me from the floor and placed dark marionette behind an iron curtain. He resolved to go to market to find another dark marionette.
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