The Grimscribe's Puppets

by Joseph S. Pulver, Sr.

  It was exciting but not particularly easy to follow the Blue Star that hid like a coquettish young girl behind the houses and chimneys, only to break through glaring now and then at unexpected spaces. The Blue Star fooled us, played with us like a kitten plays with a handful of downs. We drifted ahead and reached the place where the magic blue flower was blooming. It was a wide stone-tiled mole in front of a formerly magnificent building which perhaps had served as a big publisher’s house, a ministry, or a museum. But even at that time the building was abandoned. The ground-floor windows and doors were nailed up but the colossus of stone still reached for the sky. The mole was illuminated though some of the cast-iron lamps were extinguished and nobody seemed to feel the necessity to fix them. Obviously nobody ever set foot on this promenade. After we went ashore, we stood and gazed in amazement for some moments. The Blue Star had moved its location and now twinkled high above the roof of this impressive ruin. The meaning of this Star has remained a mystery to me to this very day. Is it simply an advertising neon light or some secret signal, an encrypted message which only few would know how to read? I put the oars aside and climb onto the mole where I remain for a second to look down at the once glazed tiles in whose cracks moss or lichen grows lavishly. And I look for the Blue Star that would not betray more than a few of its prongs to me.

  So you have returned at last, it seems to say, and all at once I understand its language. I will never know what this sign means and why it is glowing there, but the Star knows everything about me. It knows my heart. Even worse: it knows my past. Will you remember, it says with a sardonic smile, the pretty Blue Star. (I’m almost sure it would smile sardonically if it was capable of smiling.) Yes—I do remember. I have no difficulty in finding the raft between the planks which were nailed there to cover the side exit of the building. I put my finger into the knothole to draw the plank away and slip inside. Just the same way that we did it that time in the past, we four. The laughter of the girls sparkled like Prosecco in the stuffy cup of the ruin that surrounded us.

  My lighter must provide enough light to feel through the darkness so that I might find the forgotten place which I can only recall on April 30th of every year. When this date is approaching, I feel the urge to come to this town; and I indulge my urge impatiently, almost morosely. I mistake it for nostalgia or homesickness that drives me here. But when the Blue Star finally speaks to me I remember the true reasons ... I feel my way through the dust-covered, filthy corridors and echoing staircases. The tiny flame of my lighter cannot bring to light the vastness of the rooms, the height of the ceilings of this Roman ruin. This house was built for a king and though it is forsaken and abandoned for so many years, forgotten, perhaps even spurned within the most silent corner of the old town. I look for the back stairs, a narrow, wooden spiral staircase which leads to a turret or oriel, where we four thought we were safe and unobserved. We ascended the stairs, giggling and drinking cheap wine that splashed onto our clothes. We were young. We needed no bar, no nightclub to amuse ourselves. We had reached where the Blue Star had led us.

  From the attic window we hoped to get a close look at it. And we managed to. I remember how we stood on tiptoe to catch a glimpse of the Blue Star. And the flaming neon sign stood high above the roof, directly in front of us, sitting on a scaffolding of rusty steel bars like a spider, stretched upward toward the evil glow of the night-violet sky and the crescent of the moon that hid behind the clouds, bearing visible signs like tooth marks. We felt the pride of the Blue Star and its unyielding will to resist being drawn to the ruin of its house; and we got a hunch of the hidden and unreal currents—absolutely different from normal electricity—that fed this magic sign with its intensive luminosity.

  Here I am, Blue Star. I walk to the attic window to glance outside, I salute you, I pay you my tribute. Let me forget at last. Why won’t you let me forget what I don’t want to remember? Why must I feel this pain again and again, every year on this damned day? There in the corner, between old furniture and even older papers, I see her well-known silhouette, her well-known figure. She has not changed through all these years that I had to return here. The Blue Star shows me the way. The glow from the Blue Star is so strong that I don’t need my lighter anymore. I approach her cautiously, so as not to disturb her, and I kneel beside her. Her face is small and wrinkled like a dried apple, the face of an ancient Egyptian mummy. Strange—she has been lying here for only ten years. I know it was not the climate that dehydrated her to this mummy-like durability but something completely different. I sit down at her side to caress her lean hand that looks like the dry paw of an ape. Her skin is as thin as ancient parchment, I am afraid it might crumble under my slightest touch. Her eyes have opened wide, glowing from inside like children’s marbles. I fear this look with its wordless accusation of everything I have done—or rather: what I failed to do.

  “I remember that night,” I say. I cannot avoid, although it is so unspeakably embarrassing to me, that a tiny tear falls down on her dry mummy’s hand. That night, the four of us were drinking too much cheap red wine from gallon-bottles. The girls wore those wide pushy skirts which make a small waist and pretty legs. Morris and I competed in drinking. Soon we were very drunk; we danced and sang until we got dizzy. Then I kissed Leila behind a stack of old furniture. For the first time I felt the moist, inviting inside of her lips and forgot that Morris and Tina were still around. Tina laughed and said it would be better to leave us alone and that we wouldn’t be bored anyway. Leila and me, we laughed about her suggestive remark. When we heard them rumbling downstairs, we embraced once again and I bedded her down on a pile of old newspapers. (The same pile which is now holding her mummified body.)

  But she is not dead; she cannot be dead; she watches me with her shining, accusing eyes like children’s marbles, staring at me out of the black ruin of her face. Her once so beautiful eyes are reflecting the glow of the Blue Star. She had eyes of the same colour as the candy summer sky; the same colour as the Blue Star. To see this Star means to look into Leila’ s eyes. Leila’s dead eyes keep burning inside me like the confession of an incomprehensible guilt. I simply left her alone that night. While lying on the pile of old papers, kissing and caressing each other, we did not notice that the light of the Blue Star was growing dimmer. I held Leila in my arms and the cheap taste of the wine mingled with the sweet, authentic aroma of her youth. We did not see what was happening outside the attic window. The Blue Star had grown darker; its hue had changed from bright cobalt-blue to that malicious violet-red glow that resembled certain tropical orchids. We did not notice the thin black strings winding and curling from the attic window until they reached Leila’s foot. These black cables, sprouts of the scaffolding on which the Blue Star grows, keep her body embraced to this very day.

  They are holding her legs up to the hips, sprouts from the black scaffolding on which the Blue Star sits. I did not dare to tear them away because they drilled into her flesh within the fracture of a second and merged with her blood vessels. She screamed and cried in terror, tried to back away and struggled vainly against them. But she only kept on struggling for a short time. Then her body sank back into the bed of papers, and the horrible mutation took place. The Blue Star drained all energy from her. The Blue Star needs energy to shine so brightly throughout all these nights, and it left her shrunken like a mummy. I crouched in the rear corner of the attic and trembled with my fists stuffed into my mouth to prevent me from screaming until daybreak.

  It wouldn’t be possible to remove the black cables from her body anyhow. But apart from that fact, I never dared to touch them. I am afraid of her, of the Blue Star, and of the alien and horrible thing she has become. I am guilty of Leila’s death. I have abandoned her like a coward. She is dead and yet not dead; her radiant eyes look at me with an ironic and accusing expression, as if they said: “Well then, great hero? Do you still know me? Do you remember how you slid your hand under my skirt and touched the secret spots that now belong to the Blue Star?”
I cannot avoid that a tiny tear drips down upon her parchment cheek. I bend down to her and whisper in her ear: “So long. I will come back, next year on April 30th. I will never forget you.”

  And then I leave the silent house and its secret and the old town with its brackish canals. I take the morning train southward, back home to my real life, my real existence. But I keep on looking for the Blue Star with longing eyes, full of nameless melancholy, and for the blue of her eyes at a new day’s dawning horizon.

  20 Simple Steps to Ventriloquism

  By Jon Padgett

  Being a ventriloquist is a lot of fun. Anyone from eight to eighty can learn the basic techniques of this craft with a little practice. If you really want to know about ventriloquism and what it can do for you, just follow these 20 easy steps, and one day you’ll find out just how much fun a ventriloquist can have.

  STEP 1: “How to hold your mouth”

  Always practice in front of a mirror. Close your mouth in a natural, relaxed way and part your lips slightly. Stare at your mouth closely in this position until you can see nothing else, as if your mouth were hovering in the midst of nothingness.

  STEP 2: “Recite the beginner’s alphabet”

  The first part of the beginner’s alphabet has 19 letters. The letters are: A, C, D, E, G, H, I, J, K, L, N, O, Q, R, S, T, U, X, and Z. With your mouth in the position described in STEP 1, recite this part of the alphabet over and over. You may have to do this hundreds or even thousands of times before you get it right. While you master this STEP, it may seem strange that these sounds are coming out of your mouth while it’s not moving and that it’s projecting noises from somewhere outside of you. Try not to focus on this phenomenon or your progress as a ventriloquist may be hindered.

  STEP 3: “Your first sentence”

  The second part of the alphabet has 7 letters: B, F, M, P, V, W, and Y. If you try to pronounce these letters the same way you did the others, you will find that you have to move your lips. So, for the time being, substitute another sound for these letters. For example, try this sentence: “The bad boy blew up the big jet by using his brain.” Only with your mouth in the position described in STEP 1, say: “The dad doy dlew up the dig jet dy using his drain.” Again, focus strictly on your technique, avoiding any other thoughts or perceptions you may have.

  STEP 4: “You say one thing... and think another”

  Think of the letter “B” while you are saying the letter “D.” If you sit in front of the mirror long enough and say the letter “D” while thinking “B,” you will soon have a sound clear enough so that, in normal conversation, no one will notice the difference. Even you may soon fail to notice that you are saying one thing and thinking another as this technique becomes second nature to you.

  STEP 5: “Use ‘TH’ or ‘ETH’ instead of ‘F’”

  Instead of saying “F” make it come out “eth” if it comes in the middle or end of a word. If it comes at the beginning of a word, just say “th.” Example: “Without any effort, I frankly feel like a trifle.” Now say “Without any ethort, I thrankly theel like a trithle.” This is where the real challenge of ventriloquism begins as you practice over and over—many thousands of times—in front of a mirror. For a while you will sound as if you have a speech impediment and may not even recognize your own voice. But don’t give up. Later your voice will become your “dummy voice,” which will be nothing like the voice you recognize as your own.

  STEP 6: “How to say the letters ‘M’, ‘P’, and ‘V’”

  Instead of saying “M” say “N.” Try this sentence: “My mind made the mad rummy melt.” This is not difficult, for “N” is a combination of “M” and “N” as you say, “Ny nind nade the nad runny nelt.” Even though most of us have never made a “mad rummy melt” with our mind, this is all part of the act of “dummy talk.” Do the same with “P”—using “T” in its place. For the sentence, “The proud professor put his pupil together,” say “The troud trofessor tut his tutil together.” For “V” use “The”—while you think “V.” For the sentence, “Not every ventriloquist is a Greater Ventriloquist,” say “Not ethery thentriloquist is a Greater Thentriloquist.” Of course, you may think this is all complete nonsense to say, but a lot of things that people say—even most things—are complete nonsense. This is not the ventriloquist’s concern.

  STEP 7: “‘W’ is tricky, but you can do it!”

  If you say the letter “W” as it sounds, it will come out as “Dubble-you.” That’s fairly easy, isn’t it? But now take the word “Wish,” as in “I wish I was a Greater Ventriloquist,” which you can’t say without a flutter of the lips, not even if you say it many thousands of times. So here’s where you’ll need practice. Make a sound—something like “OHISH.” Say it over and over until it sounds enough like “WISH” so that it can pass for this word, just as so many things pass for other things in this world.

  STEP 8: “Getting to know your dummy”

  Sit down on a chair in front of a mirror and carefully put your ventriloquist dummy on your knee. Be sure to hold on to your dummy tightly with both hands. Your dummy is hollow inside. Insert your right or left hand into its back and find its controls. Practice moving his head and his mouth. Think about your dummy moving its head while you move its head. Think about his mouth opening and closing while you open and close it. Think about these things until you don’t have to think about them anymore. Soon you’ll be doing these things without having to put these actions together in your head. That’s how your dummy needs to move. Automatically. Its eyes must move around, scanning the room just like yours might. Its mouth must open and close in perfect concert with your unconscious voice throwing (see STEPS 1-7). This STEP may take more than hundreds or even thousands of hours to perfect as you stare at yourself and your dummy in the mirror. After enough practice, the dummy will move just as easily and as naturally as you do.

  STEP 9: “They’re all dummies”

  STEP 8 directed you to practice using your dummy until it moved “as naturally as you do.” But how can a block of wood, carved and painted in the likeness of a human being, ever hope to be “natural?” Before we explore the answer to this crucial question, you’re going to need to answer a question of a different but no less crucial sort. What do you wish to achieve through the art of ventriloquism? If your aim is simply to become a proficient showman, skilled enough to achieve some modicum of success through performing at children’s birthday parties, local variety shows and community theatre acts, do not read any further. Study and apply STEPS 1-8 but do not read on. Your tutelage is complete, and with enough practice you very well may become a competent, even an excellent show-business ventriloquist. However, if STEPS 1-8 do not satisfy you; if manipulating your dummy seems limited and simplistic and even frustrating; if you have an overwhelming desire—a hunger—to know what Greater Ventriloquism is and what it can do for you and your life, read on. Again: you must continue reading only if you really want to know what the secret of Greater Ventriloquism has to offer. Fine. Now that that’s out of the way — again: how can a block of wood, carved and painted in the likeness of a human being, ever hope to be “natural?” Easy. Have you ever had a pet? Many at-home animals are taught to behave using commands—which may be direct (like “stay” or “sit”) but which might also involve subtle gestures and sounds, all of which you may make without conscious thought. You “push their levers” and “pull their cords” so to speak, to make them do what you want them to do. We can control our pets without effort, without thinking about it. We do one thing and think another. And what about our relationships with other human animals? Can’t we “push their levers” and “pull their cords” just as well, just as automatically? Is this manipulation really all that different from making your ventriloquist dummy move and talk—just how you want it to move and saying just what you want it to say? If you practice STEPS 1-8 for very long, you will eventually learn all you need to know about controlling the animals around you—human or not—b
ar none. STEP 9 is your first real step towards becoming a Greater Ventriloquist, but it is quite a simple one. Just continuously remind yourself that the ventriloquist dummy, your pets, your family and friends all have one thing in common with each other: they’re dummies. With practice, you’ll be amazed at how they’ll dance to the tune of your voice.

  STEP 10: “Don’t be discouraged”

  As you work diligently to control all the animal-dummies around you as prescribed in STEP 9 (“They’re all dummies”), you will start to observe how artificial their thoughts and motivations appear, from their impulses to eat and sleep to the redundant static of their words. It may soon appear that the animal-dummies around you are not sentient at all. This is normal. The fact is this: no matter how meticulous or consistent your practice is, it’s practically impossible to make an animal-dummy move and speak just the way you want it to move and speak. And it’s painful and exhausting to try. But don’t be discouraged. Suffering and exhaustion are both key to your future mastery of Greater Ventriloquism.