Hallo. I'm L (Not like Death Note. NO.) Eddy forced me to post this here. So here it is.
Disclaimer: I , the author, write this to state that I DO NOT own any character mentioned here. The character and everything mentioned here respectively belong to Masashi Kishimoto, unless stated otherwise.
The puppet was slumped against the wall. Its face was facing the ceiling; its eyes had no twinkle, nothing that would set it apart from all the others. Its hands were pressed against the floor, unmoving. Its wooden body was cold, as though it were a corpse. The puppets legs where stretched out in front of it.
Suddenly, its right hand twitched, but only slightly. Its left hand was squeezed into a fist, gathering all the dust that had gathered on the stone floor due to being unkempt for month's on end. The puppets eyes gained a shining light, as though a fire had been lit in the puppet hollow interior. In the silence of the room, a beating stirred. The beating of a heart.
The puppets head was slowly turned away from the wall, its realistic hair slowly moving to the heads movement. As its head came to a halt, his left hand was raised to the puppets mouth. As it opened its hand, the puppet blew away the dust, scattering them as they slowly fell to the floor. Its face showed no emotion. As it slowly stood up, the puppet's body groaned and creaked, for it had never been under such pressure. When it was at its full height, it raised its right hand and balled it into a fist, and in a monotonous tone said,
"This is my everlasting art, my redeeming art."
The puppet glanced over to a shard of glass that had been broken in an earlier fit of rage, brought it up to eye level and examined its face. Its emotionless eyes, it all looked so realistic. It brought a hand up to its face, and only to feel the tough hard wood instead of the soft warm skin of a human.
Its eyes wandered to its hand, and saw all the cuts, the deep groves that ran over its body. Its hand lowered as its spirits sunk. Its quest for immortality had led it to dead end.
They would never accept it. It was….a freak.
Not human but not a puppet. It was stuck somewhere in between, not here but not there.
It was a creation made from egotistical desires, the thought of immortality, self vanity and curiosity. The thoughts of what become of itself after its transformation. The endless questions that haunted it, slowly driving it mad, leaving it with no choice.
The thoughts of it had done buzzed around its head, as it collected everything it would need to live in the desert. As it put away all of objects, it slowly came towards a picture frame on a small wooden nightstand. The picture frame was a stunning gold, the light was radiating off it, and it was simply stunning. In the picture, there was a man with salmon hair and a woman with brown hair. They were holding their newborn baby. The puppet continued to stare at the picture. It let out a tear which was sucked up by its wooden cheek. He regained his composure, and smashed the picture frame and the floor. Its stunning light was blown out, the glass sprawled out on the floor, it was like a crime scene.
The puppet was left in the dark once more, as it picked up its possessions and left its home.
Review if you like it please! I'd like to know if there's anything I can improve on.
Thank you for the read.