She should have known.

The puppet came in a long silver box with one black, sharpie-written word.

Or the fragment of a word.


'What the heck is ewar?' thought the young girl.

Golden hair shining, wide, cerulean eyes with silver accents accentuated with eyelashes that would make any girl seethe with envy. Pink lips that pouted as she tried to decipher the little note.

Ah. Thought the puppet in the box, smiling evilly. The girl didn't notice as she was staring at the paper. She'll make a beautiful puppet.

She gently lifted out the puppet. The puppet looked unnervingly like her. A wooden, polished, face. Wide, sky-blue eyes that seemed to laugh brightly. Golden, soft-spun hair that fell in sharp bangs over the face.

It was like a human.

She held the rod that had strings attached to the puppet hesitantly. She danced the puppet across the sidewalk. Its neat clothes swooshed in the light spring breeze. She giggled. She liked the puppet already.

But I must give it a name...

And so she did.

'Len,' and he was now a boy.

"Because," she whispered to the puppet. "Len was my best friend. But he's dead now."

She didn't see the puppet's sinister, heart-stopping smile, as she took him inside the house.

And she loved him.

During strenuous, boring parts of class, she would wave her hand back and forth, making the puppet move. She would tuck him in her folder in a pocket and make it seem as though her folder was flying. She became attached, panicking when the puppet would mysteriously vanish.

The teacher expressed her concern when the usually hidden, shy, girl in the back of the room almost smashed a boy's head in with her chair when he stole her puppet.

It became scary.

The parents took her to a psychiatrist when all she would do was coop herself up in the room and play with her puppet.

The psychiatrist said to burn the puppet.

The girl screamed. She cried, she pleaded, she begged. She threatened to kill herself.

And the puppet stayed.

He ate away at her, drank out of her love for him, and tore away her soul.

And she was unaware.

She did not smile.

She was always dead.

Her eyes, no more wide and cheerful, but expressionless and lifeless.

She now monotonously and methodically played with the puppet. Every hour. Every day. Every...single...minute.

He was making her one. She was becoming one. She was becoming his puppet. He grew to be more and more like a normal human, and she became less and less like one. Her eyes were glazed, her limbs stiff.

He was the one controlling her appetite. She ate when he let her. When he said, she went to school. When he wanted something, she was his slave.

The strings on the puppet vanished. He could now run freely. He could now control her. He grew in size. His limbs were smooth, human-like. She decreased in size. Her face lovely. A beautiful smile. Laughing eyes. A rod over her head, the strings attached to her arms, hands, feet, and fingers.

Now a human, Len looked almost fondly down at his favorite human, his favorite puppet.

His favorite victim.

Almost gently, he waltzed her along the table, his cruel smirk playing on his handsome face.

"Beautiful, naive, girl. You really didn't figure it out?" He held up the rod so her lifeless face smiled at him. "I am the puppet master. You're my newest creation."

He kissed the top of her head.

"I'm almost regretful," he said, his eyes faintly apologetic. "You played too well into my trap. I'm too fun, really. A fun puppet who feeds on others' souls."

He looked at her once more, taking her in. He sighed.

"Sometimes," he mourned, holding her fragile, wooden little body, in his palm. "Sometimes I hate this life."

He held up the rods of two other puppets, one with teal hair, one with brown.

"You think I want this?"

She obviously didn't respond.

"Yes," he said darkly. "That's what I thought. But I control you now. You're my newest puppet."

She should have known.

She should have known that 'ewar' was actually 'beware."

But it was too late.


But review? Even flamers are welcome.

*cries in corner*