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The Puppet Master

I was absolutely and thoroughly convinced that this was the worst day in my life. When Davis told me that there was a thunderstorm over my head, just waiting to release the tears of heaven upon me…he wasn’t kidding.

I could just barely feel my cell phone clinking away against my useless car keys inside my jacket pocket. I had to suppress the urge to throw the phone away as I passed a street garbage can. My phone was my life line out here in the city. Ironically, it was also the one that delivered the pair of scissors. I wish I had listened to the freak I called my friend. Then maybe I would have dumped Sharon before she dumped me and avoided all of this.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the other inhabitants of the sidewalk move out of my way. I wasn’t surprised underneath my anger. When you played college football religiously you gain the kind of stature that makes people avoid you. My face was probably a small storm cloud spitting lighting within my eyes. The endless rain did nothing to improve my mood. It had drizzled yesterday, it threatened this morning and now it had cut loose.

Just in time for my car to break down.

I turned a harsh right into the convenience store, “Kaisers” hoping that my boss would be able to listen to reason. Inwardly I knew he wouldn’t.

“Let me guess, Parker.”

“It is just Park, sir.” I mumbled. He never made the effort to treat me anything other than some nameless face.

“Whatever. You had a delay, hmm?” The way he stressed the word made me lose all hope in keeping my job. It wasn’t the best but it was something. I was going to be fired, but that didn’t stop me from trying.

“Sir, my car broke down about five blocks from here. I had to walk here-“ he cut me off with what I was convinced was a cruel gleam in his eye.

“Walk, Parker? Couldn’t you run or call a cab in order to get here on time?” I kept my emotions under a strict check. Do you swear that you will not try to strangle him with his gaudy tie? I do. And do you swear that you will not slash his tires on his ugly car? I do. We have come here today to witness the calming of homicidal tendencies…

I settled for a silent glare, wishing that he would…I don’t know…dry up and die or something. I would enjoy every minute of it.

“I take it I am fired then?” I said, determined not to give the sadistic prick the satisfaction of seeing me squirm. He merely grinned, double chin wobbling. I got the feeling that he knew something that I didn’t. I didn’t let it bug me too much; he always tried to appear that way.

“You got that right, Parker. Now get out of here.” I turned and walked out, cursing. The phone rang and I was hesitant to answer it. Eventually, the ring tone got on my nerves.

“What!?” Silence on the other end. Then…

“James? You ok there? It’s Davis.”

“Oh, well in that case…what!?” There was a snicker of dry humor but I wasn’t so depressed that I missed the apologetic tone in it.

“Dave, what’s up?” I said lightly. I was trying not to scare him off. I looked out over the city that I was cursed to stay in and felt a weird sense of calm wash over me. It was almost like, someone was watching me but my body didn’t want to make my brain panic. Or something like that, at least. That was when I noticed that Dave was talking.

“…moving to Boston.”

“Wait, what?” The guilty pause nearly tore me up inside. Dave and I have been friends since kindergarten, always in the same class. When it was time to go to college we both applied to the same one. I would be…nothing without my buddy. Sorry for the drama.

“I’m sorry man but I have even more bad news.” I sighed. The day was beginning to catch up to me no matter how fast I ran. Weariness was tearing into my bones and muscles.

“Your parents called me to tell you that they won’t be able to make it.” I sighed again. My parents…I had looked forward to seeing them. I hadn’t seen them in so long I was beginning to forget what they looked like. It took me a while to say anything.

“Alright, man. Thanks. Don’t expect me back anytime soon.”

“Ok, don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do, James.” A sad excuse for a chuckle scratched its way up my throat.

“I promise, Dave.” With that I hung up. I wasn’t very fond of goodbyes, even over the phone. So, I just cut people off. Half of them never called me again but in my mind its worth losing potential friends in order to escape the emotional baggage. I don’t know how long I was wandering trying to keep my mind from treading into forbidden areas: my ex-girlfriends baby by another guy, their upcoming marriage, my parents’absence, Dave moving, my job problem, my car problem, my cold wet and hungry problem…

It seemed like all of the bad karma I had gathered in all of my previous lives decided to join forces and jump me. All in the same day, within hours of each other. Part of me screamed unnatural while another part simply suggested that I had bad luck.

I heard the growl before I saw the inhumanly ugly dog. The remains of a mad scientist’sexperiment. It looked as if I had stumbled upon the beginnings of the city junk yard.

Yippee.

Despite the warnings to never run away from an obviously hostile dog, I turned tail and ran for all I was worth. I heard my mind arguing with itself. If this isn’t karma, then what is it?

It’s bad luck. The other side answered smugly. Extremely bad luck.

I dodged the corner, careening wildly on my left foot. The Doberman was still on me. I blindly turned a couple more corners, oblivious to everything except the 200 pound mass of muscle and teeth that was gaining ground. What have I ever done that deserves this? The sky didn’t answer me, just continued pouring water.

I reeled drunkenly to a stop. I knew that I should keep moving but I couldn’t. My entire body froze up. Joints felt cold and my muscles twitched slightly, struggling to do something. I couldn’t even move my eyes.

Davis was right that time was my only thought. I was going to die in a dark alley by strange means. I didn’t think that death by Doberman qualified as strange but I wasn’t feeling picky at the moment.

I could hear the dog come to a cautious standoff with my back. At any moment now, it’s going to sink its teeth and talons into my soft innards and rip me apart. The thought didn’t make me feel any better. Strangely, neither did the shadow that detached itself from the wall in front of me.

I didn’t even think to mistake it with a rescuer. It felt wrong. Like the Loch Ness monster in my swimming pool or dinosaurs in New York City. It was out of place, out of time.

It simply didn’t belong.

The dog shared my sentiments. I heard him growl but the bite was taken out of it. I felt something…something wet and slimy in my brain. I couldn’t even begin to describe it. As if there was a worm that was crawling around inside of my head. The dog yelped and then fell silent. I was sorely wishing that my body wasn’t rebelling against me. I needed to move to somewhere far away.

The sliminess grew more pronounced and then I heard something that I knew was going to leave a mental scar. There was a scream. Not any scream but one of utter hopelessness and longing before the crystal note turned and became harshly beautiful. It was accompanied by the sounds of limbs being torn from the body, a sickening tearing and metallic splashing of blood made me sweat bullets. Crackles and pops revealed that bones were being broken then the scream ended with a guttural choked laugh. Then all was quiet. The presence was gone from my mind but I could sense that there was another, something darker, in its place.

And I still couldn’t run away.

A delicate pair of hands rested themselves on my shoulders. Since I couldn’t move I assumed, no hoped, no prayed that they were human ones. Whoever it was started to massage the kinks out of my shoulder blades. I wasn’t sure what their game was, but I wasn’t going to complain. Probably because I couldn’t.

“You are…tense. Had a bad day, James Park?” I caught myself nodding before I ended up spilling everything bad that had ever happened to me. My body was loose, free, but I had no desire to leave as strange as that sounds. I had this urge to answer any questions the voice asked of me. I could not question its intentions once it (female?) spoke. I felt like a Hot Wheels car.

A toy, something that was played with before letting it loose like a wrecking ball. A toy which could break or be broken. But of course, I never doubted for a moment that the voice had nothing but what was best for me in mind. On some deep level, it scared me.

“Dolls are never afraid of their masters, James.” The hands had moved around my waist to hold me gently, as if it were afraid that I might break. I mumbled something that went along the lines of “Yes, of course,” to answer its casual comment.

The hands squeezed lightly. “That’s a good boy.” Inside I shivered. “I think I would like to take you home with me, James.” I felt a slight pressure on the back of my neck. “How does that sound, hmm?” I was caught between answering right away and thinking about how nice the voice sounded. I was sure that it was the one who had screamed before; it had the same clear quality to it. It’s ‘hmm’ was a lot nicer sounding than my old boss’ who had been mocking me. It sounded like genuine concern. Ah well, concern or not, complacent or not, I wasn’t about to let myself be kidnapped off the face of the earth. No matter how bad my day was.

“People will wonder if I disappear.” Its grip tightened and I got a very strong impression that it wasn’t used to being talked back to. Oh well, my inner voice cackled. You want me, you are going to have to deal with all of me, sarcasm and bad jokes included. I wondered whether or not I had just insulted myself.

“Why…should I care about the affairs of humans?” O-kay. The ‘humans’ comment had a creepy feeling attached to it.

“Davis will worry about me. People are…nosy.” The grip loosened.

“I can easily deal with them.” This time the voice had a hard edge and I found myself fearing for Davis’ life. Boston wasn’t nearly far enough to get away from the freak behind me.

“I won’t hurt him if you don’t want me to, James.” I jumped ever so slightly. My stomach seemed about ready to bail ship when it encountered the iceberg possibility that it could read my mind. Think happy thoughts. Like how I can manipulate this…thing to some extent.

“What do you want from me?” came the relevant question and I was surprised that I didn’t ask it before.

“I want your soul, James. I want you.” Well, crap. Now, I felt like bolting. The compulsion to stay had evaporated like cat piss on a linoleum floor in summer.

Before I could even take a step, I noticed that nothing was holding me anymore. I whirled around fully expecting to be greeted with a vision from a horror movie. Instead, there was just a black char line where I think the dog used to be. I was both glad and disappointed by the lack of gore. I felt almost the same about my mystery person. I shook the thoughts off of me and made my way home, hearing nothing but the sound of rain and wind. And feeling nothing but cold, wet and having my mind stifled by something that didn’t belong.

At my rented flat I listened to Sharon’s message that I was, tactlessly, invited to her wedding. To Dave’s message about a ‘disturbance in the force’ or some such psychic blabber and to my counselor’s telling me to relax for the weekend. None of it demanded as much attention as the piece of rumpled paper on my desk by the window. It looked old and covered in what looked like blood stains but the writing was fine, spidery gold ink. Visible even in the darkest of taints.

Enjoy your freedom, James Park. You may not have it for long. I apologize if it inconveniences you.

It was signed: The Puppet Master. I had the feeling that my day was just a hint to how much my life would suck from this day onward. Wonderful.

I was sitting on my bed twirling the note around in my fingers. Let’s see…Puppet Master. I tried to remember if any comic book villains were named Puppet Master but came up with a blank. Which meant that, for now anyway, the message wasn’t written by a comic otaku. Which still didn’t answer the question of who it was. I was tempted to stick the Puppet Master title on the person who asked for my soul but there was no way to be sure…even if there was a very good possibility.

I think I would like to take you home with me, James. Then again, that was the only person that had the motive of giving me a couple thousand dollars in cash. I had found it in the drawer underneath the note. And I know that Dave doesn’t have that kind of money to leave around.

I was torn inside, a Pizza Hut pizza for a family of eight. Different parts of me thought different things, which went together as well as anchovies and pineapple. Bleh. Pieces of me wanted to use the money to move to Boston with Davis, to hide away, to be obnoxious about it, to burn the money, to leave it in the drawer and pretend nothing happened, to find out exactly

what had happened and I think a small, very small mind you, part of me was already a turncoat and-heaven forbid started to like the weird, inhuman voice from earlier.

I understood where it was coming from. You have a bad day, with no one to let your feelings loose on. Parents aren’t there, girlfriend isn’t there, and friend is way too sensitive and then bam! You are rescued by a beautiful sounding person who seems to care about you and your problems. Granted, the soul thingy was just a minor detail. Yeah right. Nice try but no cigar. I locked the rebellious piece up in a cold cell and mentally ate the key. And I had a good reason too. I needed time to officially get over Sharon before I think about anyone else!

Heh…heh…hmm…maybe it isn’t as tightly locked up as I thought…

The still beating heart was held gently between the palms, its red warmth spreading quickly into the tiny crevices in the hands and onto the carpet.

A heavy sigh.

The heart was tossed to the side and the body from which it came regarded with pity. It wasn’t fun anymore.

The silent screams of pain, the blood, the feeling of sawing through bone…it was becoming…not boring, merely unsatisfying.

Numerous souls watched their master pace the blood stained room restlessly. Back and forth, wearing the blood into the imperfections in the carpet.

“Master, whatever is the matter? Aren’t you having fun?” The pacing stopped. The slender figure of the Puppet Master turned to face one of her oldest puppets.

“No, Jacques. I’m not.” The soulless body of a French baron gazed at her quizzically. For as long as he could remember, she had always enjoyed inflicting pain upon others. His automatic concern for her well-being began to kick in. Perhaps she was sick?

“You haven’t touched anything…contaminating have you?” he questioned lightly, watching her expression.

“No, I have not.”

“Then what is it?” the coldness of the room seemed to be absorbed into her blue eyes as she thought about her answer. It was all very surreal. The countless bloodstains, the feebly beating heart in the corner, the rapidly cooling body on the stone table, and the woman who stood in the center of it all. She strode over to the side of the corpse, a frown marring her ethereal countenance.

“I…I want another puppet, Jacques.” The puppet was both insulted and confused. If she truly wanted another puppet, then why kill the man? And did she really need another one? But his forced complacency stopped him from asking these questions.

“But the one I want is special. I can feel it and it stops me from hurting him.” Jacques watched her. The coldness was sucked back into the room as she lost track of it, gazing at everything and nothing but he knew that she was seeing something. Or, someone.

“I need to hurt him to make him a puppet, Jacques. I…am confused and I don’t like it.”

Mildly disturbed, the Frenchman approached her with caution. “Why don’t you just hurt him then? As a puppet he will feel nothing but adoration towards you. He will be happy.” He soothed. She was the Puppet Master. Ripping souls from their vessels was what she did best, why the hesitation? She bit her lip so hard that her opaque blood flowed.

“I want him to be happy, but I don’t want it to be forced…oh, I don’t know!” She was so childlike at the moment. Frail, delicate, puzzling over her feelings and the suspension of her naturally sadistic nature. A memory…no, that is to strong a word, an abstract concept floated up into his consciousness. A leftover from his soul that was hanging around somewhere. The concept of emotions.

“Why do you want him to be a puppet?” She paused.

“He,” a small smile settled upon her lips. “He talked back to me. It was, refreshing.” It was like a damn breaking, Jacques mused. “He’s brash, abrasive, sarcastic, anti-social, independent, smart, sweet-“ he cut her off, head spinning.

“Sounds like a lot of things you like about him.” He stressed. She had worrying behavior.

Her mouth tucked itself downwards. “He has a personality that I haven’t seen before. I don’t want him to lose it.” The puppet tried not to sigh.

“Even if he will never return your affections, Puppet Master?” Her eyes strayed to the bloody hole in her latest hobby’s chest.

“He will return them, Jacques. He will.” She stroked the dead man’s face lovingly, almost letting herself imagine that it was his. But she knew it wasn’t. It was merely the cold and rigid face of the owner of a “Kaiser” convenience store.

The one who had dared hurt him.

Now, I had a headache. A migraine perhaps. Have a million different thoughts zinging around your head, bouncing into each other with the frequency of air molecules and you tell me if you don’t get a headache. I dare you.

This Puppet Master was giving me problems within an hour of hearing about her-him. And like the rest of my awesome day, it was put on the backburner. The money was too.

Suppose it came from a drug dealer? Or was counterfeit? Alright, maybe I was being a little paranoid. It was probably a gift from a mentally unstable mafia lord. Whoever it came from, I wasn’t about to spend it in good faith. I am not stupid. Or maybe I am.

It took me another hour of random tracks to decide to call Davis from his urgent packing and ask him to sniff around. It only took two rings. The miracle of Caller ID. Without it, I’d have to go hunt him down myself.

“I am kind of busy, James.” His voice sounded strained and muffled. He had probably adopted his favorite studying pose from college. One shoe off, balancing on one foot, telephone wedged between his ear and his shoulder and holding a metric ton of stuff.

“Can you make this quick?”

“I sure can Dave. Pop down here real quick, I got a donor to the fund-my-stereo project.” It was a codename, back when we were in middle school, in a potential danger area. On the higher end but it was still a scary place. Fund-My-Stereo meant potential trouble money. That I was tempted to spend. Badly tempted.

I could hear the massive thump as his luggage plunged to the floor. “Sure thing, give me five.” I hung up on him. Yea, I know. Bad James. So sue me.

To his credit, he only took four minutes.

“Alright, where is it?” I stood up out of my torn chair, dumping my part-time cat onto the floor. Lazy thing. Came around to eat and snooze. Nothing else. I counted the days till it had a heart attack due to high cholesterol. As I led him to my bedroom, I thought about animals that, because of humans, somehow developed the same problems we associated with high living.

But I know for a fact that my cat has never punched in. For anything.

When we got there, Dave surprised me by leading the way to my desk and the second drawer. He pulled out both the note and money with a shadow on his face.

“How’d you know it was there?” he barely glanced at me.

“I felt it.” Well, that’s my buddy for you. I blame his dad, the dead beat who left his family when Dave was ten but gave the boy a pack of tarot cards. I was too lazy to break him out of it.

“Whoever wrote this,” he waved the note around, “is definitely malignant.” Kind of glad I didn’t now.

“How so? Like, they want to kill me? Or are just creepy?” I had to ask because he could get a little vague with important information. Like he conveniently forgets that I am not into voodoo.

“Like they want to lure you away and cut your heart out while you are still alive.” He squinted at the paper, or more accurately, the bloodstains. “Perhaps eat the heart too…in front of you.” I snatched the message from him.

“I don’t see anything saying that on this.” I accused, suspicious. He has got to be making it up.

He gave me a helpless shrug. “There is a lot of magic leaking off of that thing. Off the money as well. But…it confuses me.” His eyes behind the glasses were a scared liquid brown. I had to ask. This is my life here. My note, my money.

“What confuses you, Dave? Don’t leave me hanging.”

“It feels like it has been written by two different people. One evil, one not so much. But the feeling is fuzzy and not very definite.” A schizo?

“What does fuzzy mean in, uh, paranormal standards?” Play up to the professor, was my favorite saying in college. Davis said he knew weird, I trusted him to know weird.

“Well, it could mean a number of things.” He adjusted his glasses, getting into teacher mode. I plopped down on my bed. This could take an hour or two.

“Enlighten me.” He shot me a wry look, as if I said something stupidly obvious.

“It could mean mental problems, like MPD but it could also mean that there are complications with the soul. If a soul is not intact, or isn’t there, you will get blurred readings of the person in question.” He stopped.

“That’s it?” he nodded. “The person doesn’t have a soul?”

“Well…” he fingered the money still in his hands. “That’s what I think anyway.”

Suddenly, the Puppet Master made a little more sense. A soulless being either making ones like itself or is the ultimate automation. Or both. Uh, provided that I believe this sort of thing, of course.

Which I don’t.

“Can you read their intentions towards me?” I handed over the note when he gestured for it. Frown lines multiplied as he concentrated. He looked like he always did before an exam.

Hair sticking out, eyes intense, biting lips and let’s not forget the complete lack of style. The cat came in, saw nothing interesting and wandered back out. I sat on the bed, observing my walls.

Now, why didn’t I notice that water stain before? Davis suddenly started as if waking up.

“Well?”

“It’s interested in you, James.” His voice was suddenly ominous in the empty room. “Very interested. Who knows?” he tossed me the bundle of one hundred dollar bills. “It might even like you.” I cradled the money as he headed for the door. “But be very careful from now on, James. It’s powerful and interested in you, sure. It might adore you…or it might hate you.” The door slammed and I felt the way road kill would feel seconds before the wolves descended. Davis Prackett, my friend. Always the cheerful one.

I had a nightmare that night. The first one in years. I had grown up to be the generic big and strong macho guy, taking the heat of high expectations from my family and taking care of Davis’ on my free time. I stopped having nightmares ten years ago but I kind of expected this one. A soulless being that possibly hates you? A supernatural, inhuman, hating me. No way to reason with it, no real emotions to relate to. I didn’t expect to have a dream about the happy lives of bunny rabbits, that’s for sure.

When I woke up, the cat was in my face. And that sight scared me more than the dream did. I called it Mr. Drippy for a reason. It wasn’t something that you want to wake up to.

I showered with zeal, trying to wash away the stain of blood that only I could see. After doing a preliminary check, as in arms attached okay, legs are fine, no bruises and dangly bits were no cause for worry I added something to the checklist. Heart still there? I hope so, or that would be awkward. After affects of dreaming that I had an open bypass surgery with no practiced surgeon, no anesthesia and a rusted blade.

The cat was gone when I came out of the shower, as predicted. It hated the sound of running water. So, whenever it got on my nerves, I turned on the tap. Otherwise, it stayed for as long as needed. The arrangement was comfortable for both of us.

I pulled on a dark blue muscle shirt and some jeans, nothing fancy, for some breakfast. Which was also, nothing special. Eggs and toast were what I had in mind but I had to settle for eggs and orange juice because the toaster was being temperamental. I should buy a new one. I quickly threw the thought out, and then coaxed it back in with a tantalizing recollection. I was given three grand by a mysterious benefactor.

Be a crying shame to let it rot away! I smelled a new stereo, a new toaster and some real food. I think there were tears in my eyes when I locked up my apartment.

They quickly dried when I saw my old car in the driveway. I remembered how it broke down and the hundreds that it would take to fix it. I would have to walk today, but hey, at least it isn’t raining. I walked towards the city center, cursing as thunder rumbled overhead.

The clerk had been suspicious. He probably remembered me from my frequent visits while window shopping and my obvious lack of money. But now I had enough to spend a little, all in cash, which would make any person in sales a little jumpy. But I didn’t care and was now waltzing along, a new stereo in hand. Carefully wrapped in plastic it was protected from the rain which tried hard to dampen my spirits, but I was flying too high. Way too high. So high, I got lost in a familiar setting. Minus dog. But it wasn’t lacking in the creepy person factor.

“We meet again, James Park.”

“And once again I can’t move. Would you mind explaining why?” I couldn’t help the quip. It was true. My arms were clamped around the stereo so tightly I felt like they were going to fall off from lack of blood. My legs were stiff and I was stuck staring dead ahead.

I felt the same hands on my shoulders again. I had a good feeling that it was ignoring the question. Unlike last time, its touch did not loosen the spell thingy that halted my movement.

Perhaps, I was being too nosy. Maybe it did hate me and was only stringing me along. Either or made sense but even though I couldn’t move, my mouth was definitely more loose today.

“Did I do alright giving you the money?” So it noticed my package. Damn. There goes my plan of using it to surprise my way into escape. Well at least I had a direct connection but it wasn’t good news.

“Are you the Puppet Master?” I asked, deciding that it was high time I ignored a question of my own. It sucked in a harsh breath and the hands flew away.

“You did not answer my question.” Uh-oh. The voice reminded me of the scream from before. Playful and happy, then it became darker. I never saw what happened to the dog.

But I am young and stupid.

“I chose not to answer the question, like you did. Not what you wanted?” I think I spent too long as a hormonal teen. It was going to get me killed one of these days. Today looked like the opportune day to die.

There was silence. I am going to die kept popping up in my head. Speaking of head, the dark presence was once again making itself more pronounced. A blanket of silence fell over everything and then the rain broke through.

The hands were back and I devoted all of my attention to them. Waiting for the time that they would slip from my shoulders and wrap around my neck. That’s when I felt something. A warm feeling on the nape of my neck, which shocked the hell out of me. I couldn’t move.

Har, har. You might not believe me, even Davis might not but I have had enough girlfriends (not telling you how many) to know a kiss when I felt one.

I was speechless. My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water but nothing came out. Zip.

“I really like you, James, but only as a toy. Remember this,” the hand did something to my back and behold! There was pain. A sharp burning pain that rumbled from my toes, s cratched its way up my legs, screamed up my spine where it exploded off in my head. Everything faded to white in its onslaught. There was nothing I could do except stand there blinking back constant tears. It was over after half of forever, but my back still ached.

“Take care, James. I have no wish to hurt you but refuse me…” I was certain it was a girl by now. No one else but a female could be so sadistic and possessive.

“So I am just a toy, is that it?” the darkness in my mind recoiled slightly, as if…I don’t know…my comment hurt or something.

“Yes, James. A toy but toys I don’t like tend to be broken.” My body relaxed and I fell to the ground. My back felt like a thousand rhinos had been doing the two steps on it. I believed her about breaking. Sure felt like I was broke already. I did not want to experience that again.

I need a new car, I thought, trying to force pain out of my mind. It wasn’t easy. I need Davis to stay here, I need new furniture, I need a girlfriend, I need a dog, I need new shoes…the list was getting frivolous now but did I care? I need new pants, I need a new job…pain can do weird things to your mind. I need safety, I need someone who cares, I need a better life… and we all know that all it takes for a wish to be fulfilled is for the right person to hear them.

The darkness retreated completely again and I was left alone to me, myself and my stereo.

When I came to, I was on my bed with the springs digging into my back. Davis was there, looking like he had fallen asleep in the very uncomfortable grandmother’s rocker chair in my room. He had pulled it closer to the bed. It weighed about three hundred pounds.

The rain was still falling, I could hear it. My mind started to drift to the Puppet Master against my will. I don’t know what it is but there was something just not right about her. You know, besides her ability to inflict massive amounts of pain with a touch and tendency to refer to people as being toys. There was something else there. Something about the way she didn’t kill me.

It feels like it has been written by two people, one evil, and one not so much. That kept running through my head, over and over again. Didn’t make me feel any better about her but it did make me curious. Curiosity killed the cat; satisfaction brought it back to life and all. I was probably making my death wish but I am determined to find out what’s up. What was the big deal with me? Am I to be her new puppet? Not only did Dave’s warning go through my head but also the Dracula book by Stoker hidden somewhere in my abused bookshelf. Didn’t he play with the victim a bit before eventually biting her? But somehow managed to act like he loved her, my mind stubbornly slipped in. I ignored it. He did play around didn’t he, wasn’t that part of the reason why the book exceeded 100 pages?

I had no doubt in my mind that the Puppet Master was not like a vampire and most likely didn’t have the same weaknesses; I was going to have to treat her like one. I leaned back fully and relaxed into my pillow, waiting for Dave to wake up so that I could pelt him with vampire behavior questions. As far as my limited knowledge went, vampires were child kings. They don’t take no for an answer, don’t sulk when denied but instead get vindictive and angry. My back still hurt.

No, the way I was going to approach this was with an open mind and good running shoes. If I did it right, running would not come into the equation. Toys she did not like were broken; I am determined not to be an unwelcome toy. Pain is a great motivator. What I was going to do is play along…while alerting the police along the way.

They didn’t quite believe me. I think I had their attention till I mentioned “soulless.” Figures. You would think (hope?) that they would at least agree to investigate a stalker complaint. At least, that’s what I thought. It didn’t pay off to think positive.

Dave had complained about my recklessness, my arrogance, my care-free attitude, his neck from sleeping on a chair, my shoes, my cat’s face and the color of my bed sheets. I told him, quite politely; that I happen to like the color salmon and if he didn’t he could shove it. Not my exact words. If I wrote them down, the paper would probably shrivel and burn until nothing but ashes remained. He wasn’t offended. We are buddies that way.

He told me to be careful and that my plan, while a good one initially, mortal forces couldn’t really help me. The way he used the word ‘mortal’ creeped me out a bit.

“While it was a novel idea-“

“What do you mean ‘was’?” he glared at me.

“I was just about to pick it apart. ‘Was’ as in you won’t have any backup like you planned. Not only will the ignorant not want anything to do with you unless it resembled a strait jacket, but mortals, those that die if you were wondering, won’t have any defense against having their soul possessed and torn away. Think of something else, if you can.”

See? Not only did he subtly claim that I am an idiot but he also does TV dinners! In all honesty, it was my cat, Mr. Drippy, which gave me the idea that I will implement as soon as the sun goes down.

I had been sitting in my favorite chair when I saw the cat eyeing a mosquito on the wall. I silently cheered him on as the cat got ready to pounce. I hate mosquitoes.

With a mentally scarring shake of his butt, he leapt up towards the giant insect. He didn’t expect to miss the target. As evident by his pathetic grunt when he hit the wall a foot too short. He was too close to the wall when he jumped. The mosquito just sat there smugly. The cat, believing mistakenly that the mosquito had smacked him ran to me and behind my chair.

Reinforcements. Something with authority. More power than I. That sparked off the neurons and to complete the metaphor, I got up, grabbed a newspaper and slapped the mosquito into next week.

Still don’t get my brilliant plan? I will admit…it makes me kind of nervous myself. Dave could tell as I asked him for the directions a third time. I had a soulless being on my tail that isn’t afraid to hurt me. So I had to get another soulless being that wasn’t afraid to hurt me-someone.

Fight fire with fire and all that jazz. I was on the search for some vampires, or werewolves, demons, anything! I was human and very breakable. I needed something that couldn’t break that easily to be my bodyguard. Simple enough plan, right?

Right. I am so smart.

Next time: James discovers something he really didn't want to know about the puppet master! Read and Review please!