short story of a puppet who just needs a little love
| puppet boy
"Ow!" Exclaimed the puppet boy as his masters pulled on his strings every which way, poking and prodding ammusing themselves for as long as they pleased.
Not many understood the puppet man, he was one of few existing for the shier reason of pleasing others, doing as they say, and moving at their will.
The puppet man lay there, waiting for the next person to pick up his rods, pull the string and watch him dance until they grow bored of him. The puppet man didn't realize exactly what he was, or how he came to be, he never seemed different from the others, he thought everyone was sure to be treated the same ways he has, the puppet man never thought he was special, no one ever treated him special that's for sure.
"Go here," they said, "Do this," they said.
"They dont care," he thought, whilst being thrown around like a toy, "It's like they don't even know of what they do."
The reality is that there wasn't much different between the others and the puppet man, besides having strings tied him, he was the same, so why him?
"Why me!" He yells at the abyss, no answer to be heard.
What is it like to be a puppet man? To sit on a shelf for hours on end, waiting for anyone to notice your existence and play with you for a little while, even if it hurts.
If you ever care to listen, he's waiting there, the puppet boy.