Puppet

by Ed Kightlinger

  “Nurse Silvia,” James says haltingly, “can you tell me something without compromising privileged patient information? It is essential for me to know.”

  Silvia replies agreeably, “Yes, of course. What is it, James?”

  James says, “Were any of the other accidents unusual? Were they weird given what you must witness every day as a professional nurse? Like mine, did the others’ injuries appear unusual, unexplainable?”

  “Matter of fact, yes,” Silvia replies. “There have been broken arms, legs, concussions, bruises, severe scrapes and bruises, and traffic fatalities. As I said, all of them occurred on Grider Street. Most of the patients, at least those who have regained consciousness, say they did not cause their accidents. Like you, they said something or someone else caused their injuries. You must understand I do not have all of the facts. My coworkers and I only saw a handful of the patients here in the emergency room. In spite of this, all of my patients, to include you, denied that they caused their accidents.” Silvia frowns. “My coworkers elsewhere in the hospital have also said their patients claimed the same phenomena.

  “The patients said they were whirling around in circles before their accidents occurred. It is like an odd, unexplainable whirlwind had descended on them one by one.” She pretends a smile. “Then again, that is silly isn’t it?” She turns around to look through the window.

  She says in a barely audible whisper, “It is a warm, cloudless, sunshine-filled day, so I seriously doubt if whirlwinds where the cause of yours and the others’ accidents.” She turns around to look at James.

  “In the country of my birth, El Salvador, many believe in evil things that defy logic. Just like here in America.” She grins which once more draws attention to her gorgeous facial dimples. “In addition to its tropical beaches and tasty delicacies, El Salvador has its share of myths and traditional stories. La Llorona, El Tabudo, and El Cadejo are but three of our many scary folktales. The folktales involve unexplainable evil creatures of which we mortals cannot comprehend.”

  She looks James squarely in the eye. She says in a dreamy tone of voice, “In my unscientific, half-baked personal judgment, it would appear that today is one of those days where the unexplainable is in charge of our lives.” She abruptly turns around to look at the entranceway.

  “Sheriff Jones, thank goodness you are here! Strange things are happening today. Give me a few seconds, and I will be right with you.” She looks at James.

  “Okay, James, you may go. Please don’t forget. If your arm swells, if you have increased pain or develop a fever, if you feel anything alarming, contact your health care provider. Okay?”

  James nods his head. “Yes, ma’am. I thank you. Your bedside manners and professional expertise are extraordinary!” Silvia smiles and says thank you. James reaches out to shake Silvia’s hand. He says, “And, ma’am?”

  “Yes, James.”

  “Good luck.”

  Silvia replies with a nervous smile, “Thank you, James. What we are experiencing today is unexplainable. Something tells me that we are going to need lots of good luck before the day is over.”

  A scene of pandemonium greets James in the corridor. He presses his back against the wall to make room for the crowd of medical professionals. They are rushing in both directions through the narrow hallway. There are six separate groups of paramedics wheeling gurneys from the hospital entrance. Doctors and nurses have sprung into action from the other end of the corridor. Orders are shouted as the medical professionals quickly evaluate each patient in turn.

  “Take this one to operating room six – stat! This patient does not seem too serious. Nurse Silvia can see him in the emergency room. Take this one to x-ray – stat! Take this one to operating room four! This one goes to the emergency room as well.”

  Unexpectedly, a doctor examining one of the patients says something that will remain forever in James’ memory. Even though she whispers, it is as if she shouted her words at the top of her lungs. That is because what she says seems to command the attention of everyone in the corridor, to include James’.

  The doctor shouts, “My goodness. I do not believe this! The patient has bled out completely, and now he is deceased!” Her tone dramatically changes as she gives orders to the paramedics.

  “Please take him down to the mortuary. Have the attending nurse notify his next of kin. Tell the attending nurse that he or she is to ask the next of kin if they will authorize an autopsy.” She shakes her head. “This is horrible and very strange.”

  The noisy pandemonium in the corridor instantly evaporates. Everyone stares at the doctor and the deceased patient. They have surprised looks on their faces. James notices a few pairs of eyes have misted over with tears. He leans to his left to see who the patient is. A couple of paramedics is standing between him and the deceased blocking his view.

  The nurse looks up at the paramedic, her tearful eyes searching his. “Do you know how to get to the mortuary?” The paramedic nods her head. The orderly gives her a folded white sheet to cover the body.

  When the gurney slowly passes by him, James gets a brief glimpse of the deceased person.

  Oh, my God! I cannot believe this is happening! It is our school’s star quarterback, Anthony Marvella! No wonder everyone is speechless. Anthony is well-known in town, and now he is dead!

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  RETRIBUTION

  “Di, I am coming to save you!”

  Part I: The Unthinkable

  Brenae is lying on her bed listening to music on her headphones. The playlist she downloaded to her iPhone is music from a favorite, local band that calls itself Ramen Noodles and Soup. The group features various genres of music. Short-lived, amusing commentaries in the band members’ voices are between every other song.

  There are ten members in the group, six females and four males. The oldest member is seventeen years old, and the youngest member is thirteen. Three females and two males make up the singing portion of the group. The five other members are the instrumentalists. They play the drums, the keyboard, and the bass, electric, and acoustic guitars.

  Ramen Noodles and Soup is famous around town, especially with the teenagers that attend Claymore High School. Six of the teenagers, two first-year students, three sophomores, and one junior, are students at Claymore High. Reggie Williamson, a Claymore High School junior, is the band’s lead singer. The other members of the group are either homeschooled or attend Saint Luke’s Catholic School.

  Without warning, a chilling, high-pitched voice starts to whisper into Brenae’s headphones. Her first impulse is to remove the headphones from her ears. In spite of this, she is unable to move her hands!

  “Hello, Bre. You thought you were unbeatable, didn’t you? Now, you know the unthinkable can happen to you just like it has happened to the others. Yes, Bre, you too are vulnerable. What do you think of me now, Bre? Are you scared?”

  Brenae’s mind shouts, No! What I am hearing is not real! It is nothing more than my imagination going wild! Whoever you are, go away and leave me alone!

  Sharp pain on Brenae’s right side abruptly shoots from her shoulder blade to her wrist. It is then she realizes her arms are above her head. She instinctively pulls both of her arms to her sides. Her arms remain next to her body for a split second, and then they quickly snap back above her head. She slams her arms to her sides once more. Like before, they immediately bounce back above her head. Her armpits and shoulder blades, along with both of her wrists, quickly begin to throb dreadfully.

  Why is it I cannot keep my arms from shooting straight up in the air after I pull them to my sides? It almost feels like elastic is restricting their movements. My shoulders, forearms, and wrists feel like they are on fire!

  Brenae opens her eyes and stares into the murkiness. She looks at her feet, and then she looks up at her arms.

  Oh, my Lord, my worst nightmare has come true! I am hanging by my wrists from strands of twine attached to two eyelets in the ceiling! I have turned into a pu
ppet!

  She screams as soon as she notices that a shiny, translucent casing that looks like plastic has covered her fair skin! Her bones, ligaments, muscles, and veins are visible beneath the covering!

  No, no, no! What I am seeing cannot be real! It has to be a dagburned nightmare!

  A tall stepladder and a cluttered workbench are beside her. Tools cover the workbench: a mallet, a hammer, a Phillips screwdriver, a pair of scissors, an Exacto knife, and an opened package of Gillette razor blades. Brenae’s heart sinks when she sees the neatly stacked coils of twine on the far side of the workbench. Remnants of frayed twine are on the treads of the stepladder, on the workbench, and scattered all over the floor.

  Oh, my God, this is Puppet’s lair!

  As soon as the realization hits her, Brenae screams once again.

  The very instant she thinks she is about to faint from what she is seeing, and the excruciating pain in her shoulders, arms and hands, something brusquely increases her awareness. It is the unmistakable, high-pitched screech of a power saw from outside the room. The terrifying sounds gradually become louder as if the power saw is getting closer. Visions of being tortured to death enter her mind.

  There is no way you are doing this to me! What is happening is not real! I do not believe in the supernatural! I do not believe in magic! Most of all I do not believe in you, Puppet, you sorry loser, or whatever or whoever you are. You are not real!

  “I am real, Bre,” the strange, high-pitched falsetto voice whispers into her headphones. The chilling sound is barely audible over the screeching power saw that has revved up to full power.

  “Bre, not only am I doing everything to you that you are experiencing, I now own you as well.” The voice chuckles in a disgusting tone.

  “My dear, sweet, Bre, how are you feeling? cozy? comfy? submissive? believing? Tell me, Bre, do you believe in the unexplainable? the supernatural? magic? in me?

  “Bre, while I have your undivided attention I must tell you about your friends. Allow me to begin with the one you refer to as the Accountant. She will depart the world of the living very soon.

  “Why, Bre, why? Why would you need an accountant on your investigative team? It seems to me very archaic, overly prosaic and business-like. What is it the Accountant is supposed to do? Is she supposed to count coils of twine? If that is her purpose, she need not waste her time. My magical coils of twine are countless.”

  The haunting voice changes its tone to a frightening, sardonic whisper.

  “Let me tell you about your friend, James. James is in the emergency room. I expect that he will die soon if he has not expired already. I witnessed firsthand what happened to him. The fool started to spin in full circles on his skates. Then he careened off the sidewalk into oncoming traffic. He undoubtedly was hit by a car while he was living his dream of someday being the inline skating champion. Such a fool he was, Bre, skating in full circles in the middle of the street!

  “I departed once I realized James was going to get hit by a car. All the same, please do not feel bad as you grieve his departure from your world, Bre. James’ fate is only one of many humans that have suffered my wrath today. There will be more before the day, the weeks, and the years have ended.

  “Now, please allow me to tell you about your dear, sweet friend, the actress, the one who represents Peter Pan. As I speak to you, I am holding her at arm’s length. Yes, Bre, she is by my side at this very moment.” He laughs a despicably ghastly snicker. He says in a forceful tone, “Peter Pan, please say hello to your good friend, Bre!” He pauses for a short time, and then he screams angrily, “I said to say hello to your good friend, Bre!”

  Brenae winces with dread as she hears Diana Jane’s screaming voice.

  Diana Jane screams, “Oh, God, no! Please do not hurt me anymore. Please, I beg of you!” The screeching, terrorized voice gradually turns into a diminishing whisper. “Goodness, Bre, help me. Help me, Bre. Help me. Help…” The anguished voice disappears completely.

  The high-pitched, frightening voice of the tormentor returns to taunt Brenae once more. Its foul words are ominous, threatening, disgustingly wicked.

  “Yes, Bre, she will be gone as soon as I have finished with you. Ah, but your pretty, your darling, your Peter Pan friend – so fair, so articulate, so talented – she, like James, will soon depart the living world of humans.” He scoffs a horrifying laugh. “When I finish with her she will have wished she had met her fate by the blade of Captain Hook’s sword.

  “After I destroy your lovely Peter Pan actress, I will pay a visit to the girl with the funny accent. She will find herself playing endless requiem tunes on her hammered dulcimer until eternity.

  “Lastly, Bre, after I have destroyed all of your close friends, I will pay a visit to the one who is leading your investigation. I will give your team leader the preferred treatment. Afterward, owing to her passing, I will have delivered a strong message to everyone at your school and in this horrible town that the Supreme Spectral Puppet has arrived!”

  After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, the bullying voice spits out horrific words of hate and absolute loathing.

  “For I shall have my revenge for the murder of Missus Puppet! You and your stupid Claymore townspeople murdered her. Therefore, every one of you is guilty, and I promise you this. Today it is all of your friends and dozens more. Tomorrow? We will have to wait and see.”

  Brenae is crying and trembling uncontrollably. Despite her terror, she is strong-willed, tenacious, and she never admits defeat. She begins to struggle with all of her strength against the taut strands of twine attached to her body. She forcefully kicks her legs back and forth until the twine holding her right leg snaps. Then her left leg breaks free of the twine. Now, both of her legs are free to give her added movement.

  Despite the intense pain in her shoulder blades, forearms, and wrists, she swings her body back and forth forcefully. As she does, she sharply slams her right arm to her side again and again. Her right arm is free of the twine in a few seconds.

  Now, Brenae’s entire body is hanging by twine tied around her left wrist. The agony she is experiencing is excruciating. She starts to feel faint. She wants to cry out because of the agonizing pain, but she refuses to allow sounds to escape her lips as she continues to struggle fearlessly.

  I need to conserve my energy. I must escape so that I can save Di! I can help the others after that.

  Despite the horrific pain she is undergoing, Brenae manages to yank her left arm to her side over and over. Every time she jerks her arm, her body moves upward causing her head to slam violently into the ceiling. After six attempts, she finally succeeds in freeing herself from the twine. She collapses to the floor in a heap.

  Intense white lights begin to obscure Brenae’s vision as her awareness starts to fade in and out.

  She whispers, “Please do not hurt my friends like you hurt Jay! I beg of you. Take me. Hurt me instead!”

  Brenae manages to lift her head a few inches from the floor. Her eyelids begin to blink rapidly. She gazes into the dreariness with a vacant, faraway expression. She slowly reaches out with her hand as if she is gesturing to someone she holds dear. Her words are scarcely a whisper.

  “Di, I am coming to save you!”

  A few seconds later Brenae’s head gently drops to the floor. Her headphones slip from her head, and she loses consciousness.

  *****

  Part II: The Unbelievable

  Sophia is in the dimly-lit basement of the Buford County Library. The basement is where the librarian keeps the older research books, outdated encyclopedias, and historical archives. Sophia is the only person in the basement.

  A stack of books, papers, and magazines are on the table before her as she sits. She has been researching topics dealing with strange, humanmade phenomena since nine o’clock this morning. Her research is due to her quest to gain more knowledge about the spiritual history of puppets, marionettes, dolls, hideous-looking clowns, and other frightening, humanma
de objects. She is listening to music on her headphones as she reads.

  One article that she found most interesting deals with a strange clown in the 1982 horror film Poltergeist and the remake of the movie by the same name in 2015. Sophia is not afraid of too many things, particularly threats from human beings. Then again, she is deathly scared of clowns, especially creepy clowns like in Poltergeist and Stephen King’s thriller, It. Her phobia is due to an incident she experienced as a child.

  Without warning, a male’s high-pitched voice shouts from behind.

  “Stand up! I want you to walk to the wall! Do not turn around and look at me. Do it now!”

  Sophia slowly removes her headphones and places them on the table alongside her iPhone. She deliberately takes her time arranging the books and other articles on the table into three neat stacks.

  She says in a calm voice, “What will happen if I refuse to stand up and face the wall?”

  The voice says, “If you do not do as I ask, I will harm your friend.”

  Sophia replies. “How do I know for certain that you will harm my friend? How do you know he or she is my friend? I have many friends, and by your tone of voice and offensive manner, you’re not one of them!”

  Suddenly, Sophia hears sorrowful weeping from somewhere behind her.

  Oh, my goodness, it sounds like those tormented sobs are coming from Diana Jane!

  Sophia says in a whisper, “Are you who I think you are?”

  The voice that sounds like Diana Jane’s softly splutters in between sobs. “Yes, it is me. Please do what he says, or he will hurt me even more. I cannot take much more of this pain!”

  Sophia shouts angrily, “Whoever you are that is hurting her, stop it, or I swear to God, I will make you feel incredible pain!”