You sit at your computer, doom scrolling on Tumblr for what feels like ages, post after post, nothing scratching your brain the way you wished it would. Post, post, reblog, like, post, like, post, reblog, reblog…
An endless loop of mundane, trying to add a little bit of something interesting as you lay in bed, trying to fall asleep. But then a particular art piece catches your eye. Puppets…
You always hated puppets. Their oddly human quality that just was slightly off. Mannequins were even worse, but puppets were a more constant fear. Your screen glitches as you click on the art, and the puppet slowly begins to move, as if someone is manipulating the strings. You’re fascinated, trying to see if it’s a gif, or perhaps a video and you just didn’t notice. Green claws pop into view, the puppet slowly starting to look like a stereotypical man in one of those old silent movies. He seems to be screaming for help, but you can’t hear him, even with your volume at max.
A piercing screech comes through the speaker of your phone, causing you to throw it across the room. A mechanical giggle, seemingly getting louder, coming from all the electronics in your room. The same hand reaches through your computer screen, grasping onto your desk, crushing the solid hardwood into dust like it’s nothing. You scream, which just makes the giggling louder.
The lights go out, and you scramble for a flashlight. The green figure continues to slowly crawl out of your computer screen, the only other light source in the room. Glowing claws and tattoos catch your attention, distracting you until you feel like you’re being watched, looking slightly up to meet a pair of glowing eyes and a mouthful of sharp teeth.
You try to break for the door, the cackle following you as you run through your house, mocking your every movement. You feel it constantly around you, as if you’re just not quite fast enough to lose whatever is chasing you.
You’re not, but this is fun, instilling the fear into you that he feeds off of. Why not make his meal just a bit more sweet with a little bit of a chase, oh how he loves playing games. He always liked playing with his food anyways.
You get to the front door, just to be met with the same grin again, blocking your exit. You try to go for the back door, just to be met with a knife to your throat. Your breath hitches as he giggles right into your ear.
“Gotcha~”
Staying perfectly still, you close your eyes, waiting for the perceived inevitable, just to be met with a disgusting lick up the side of your neck, buzzing into your skin. He purrs, fangs barely grazing your skin.
“I t’ink I’ll make ye my poppet, how’s t’at~?”
He coos you as he takes a bite into a neck, releasing a cry out of you as you squirm, trying to not make it worse while also looking for an escape. The blade presses into your neck a bit harder, a warning to stop squirming. He pulls away, stepping back to obscenely lick your blood off his teeth.
Trying to run again, you find yourself unable to move.
“I said yer mine now, poppet~”
Your arms move as if being pulled by strings, his hand flexing as he watches you with amusement. Fingers dancing as you move side to side, as if he’s the one controlling your movements. You try and scream, only to find your voice and ability to move your mouth gone. You can only blink and move your eyes, but wonder to yourself if that’s something he’s letting you keep for his amusement as well.
He walks you into your living room, sitting on your couch, hand still flexed. Tears roll down your face, which he gets up and quickly licks off, humming contently. You can feel him feeding off your fear, and as much as you don’t want to give into it, you can’t help but feel trapped. He’s made you become everything you ever feared.
“T’e name’s Anti, yer poppetmaster~”
Green strings appear from his fingers as he flexes his hand, connecting to your wrists, ankles, all major joints, keeping you in the air on display in front of him. He glitches around you, inspecting his new plaything very carefully.
“Ye’ll do nicely in my collection, yer much stronger t’an all t’e rest o’ my poppets~”
He pulls you in by your waist to him, and in a flash of green you’re on a stage. You look around you, the slightest control of your head, still lacking the ability to speak. You see a doctor, a younger looking skater dude, a superhero, a magician, but you notice two spots are empty.
Green strings are attached to all of them, all in various states of fear, the cackle returning to echo around the auditorium. You feel tugs as you’re pulled into one of the two empty spots, the one in the middle still left empty.
“Apologies, let me introduce ye t’ my favorite~”
The same man from the art before lowers down from the rafters of the stage, tired, seemingly saddened by the sight of you on the stage with him and the other men. He nods to you, before hanging his head, eyes closed.
“Ye might beat him in terms o’ favorites, we’ll see t’ough~”
You try and struggle still, given a bit of autonomy to squirm mid-air, still handing by your puppet strings. Anti walks over to you, holding your chin tight, forcing you to look at him in the eye.
“Ye have an audience, let t’e show begin~!”
