I had this doll for quite a while now.
It was a beautiful porcelain doll. You know, the way that most porcelain doll looks like. I was just like that. Wavy, long blonde curls. Black eyes. A beautiful pink and red dress with a typical headband with lace around the edges. It was a doll I received from my mother at an early age. At that age I always thought it was such a pretty doll - A perfect look. My grandmother had almost fifty dolls of that kind. All of them beautiful, perfect porcelain dolls. But this one in particular, the blonde with the red dress, I will always remember.
Because this is the one that would be the death of me.
I lived alone for quite awhile, had now. I had just gotten into college, seeing my whole life lay in front of me and all I had to do was to just go and pick out what I wanted. Easy as that. I was aiming for Psychology - A subject I had started to respect and enjoy the last three years. Seeing as my mother was a nurse and my dad a therapist, It was an obvious choice for me. But moving so far away from all my friends and family wasn’t as easy as I thought.
Sure, My roommate was a nice person, but maybe not as chatty as I had hoped to. I wasn’t a person to just sit quiet in my room and never speak until I had to. I enjoyed getting out, see friends…But I didn’t have any time or friends around. No one would talk to me unless I wanted help from my teacher in school or my roommate had forgotten to buy milk. It was lonely to say the least.
Homework was the only thing to keep me distracted from feeling lonely. I didn’t had time to try to even make friends. Friends was a silly thing after all. I didn’t had time to go and party, maybe find somebody. It was worthless either way and my dad would skin me alive if I didn’t keep my focus on the schoolwork.
The only thing I had brought from home to remind me of my family was that doll. The girlish toy was displayed on the desk in front of my bed, smiling against me when I needed someone to talk to or just watch over me as I slept. It was me and that doll the whole time. That fucking ugly doll.
As time went on, I started to pull myself more and more away from any human contact as possible. The schoolwork was getting over my head and the regret of going here began filling my head. But I couldn’t quit now and go home, not after my parents had paid everything for my college and car to get here. I just had to stay and make the best out of it. I really tried hard. But with each day the hatred of other people took the hold of me and I would need hours alone, just sitting in my room to cool off. It was getting harder to get out each day. My roommate despised me, I could tell. But I didn’t blame her. I was acting like a jerk. I refused to take my share of the daily chores - wiping the floors, taking out the trash…But I couldn’t do it. I was being pulled into a dark hole.
And with the loneliness came the paranoia.
At first I accepted being lonely. But it had reached that point where I started to realize my dumb behavior, trying to reach out to people among to tell them I wasn’t feeling alright. There was only stress and nobody had time to talk to a stupid college student. It was only the nerves. I hoped it was. I locked myself in my room and I couldn’t go out anymore. I had to send in to my teachers and cancel the classes, day after day. But it didn’t matter. They didn’t send anything in search for me. So I just kept spinning in my room, week out and week in. It was an evil circle I couldn’t get out of.
Then it happened. My room had been my cage. I wouldn’t eat; I couldn’t. It even reached that point where my roommate would come and knock on my door to see everything was ok. But I didn’t open it up. I just yelled back in reply that she would go away. She did.
She didn’t care enough to make a second attempt. She never knocked on my door again. It was just me. Me and my doll watching over me and every breath I took.
Then there was that night.
This night, actually.
It was a night that I was so used to spending. Alone. I didn’t even bother trying to turn on the lights as I stepped up from my bed and pulled on sweater and a pair of untied converse before I made my way out of my room in so many days. I needed fresh air and my window was broken, unable to open it up. It was in the middle of the night, maybe even morning. It was still dark outside so I just assumed it was still night even though I hadn’t checked the time yet. Couldn’t care less.
Anyway, It was a pain in the ass to come out of the room to not wake my stupid roommate up. All I needed was to get out for a minute or two to gather some air, maybe go out and buy some cigarettes. I had promised myself to stop smoking but lately, that was the only thing I had been doing. Smoking. I only snuck out late at night to go and get me some new cigs. It was a bad thing, I knew. But it was the only thing to keep me going and kept me awake and safe.
But that particular night, there was something strange. Someone had unlocked the gate out to the street. It hadn’t happened before and I thought the landlord held a hard hand to keep it locked at all times. Didn’t bother. I just pushed the little red box out of the pocket and started smoking. The good thing about the night was that no one was around, no one to annoy me with their stupid voices. It was quiet, maybe just a car driving by. But then, no more than that. It was peaceful.
A few minutes after gaining some cold on my warm skin and some smoke inside of my lungs, I decided to go back in and maybe try to watch some television. Nothing good aired at night, but it was always worth a try.
I stepped back into the building and shrugged the last bit of unwanted cold off, making myself ready to sneak back into my room. But as soon as I came to the staircase, there was something in the way. Or, someone. Someone was standing in the stairs.
I had to admit, it did scare me to some point but a second later, I was back in my ‘not give a single fuck’ state and tried to walk up the stairs without confronting the person standing in the way. At first I thought it was my roommate, but the shadow of the person was too…manly. Too big to be the petite roommate that I knew.
I tried to pass the odd stranger and just slightly bumped my elbow into his. But he didn’t move or spoke. He just stood there. It was creeping me out. The scenario was too freaky. But of course, there was other students in this apartment building just waiting to scare the shit out of some other poor first year student. But I wasn’t the one to be fooled.
But I didn’t stop until I heard a sound. It was one of those sounds where it just caused your concentration to break shut. It was…distracting. Scaring. Unnerving. I couldn’t continue on, so I just froze in position and tried to turn around to face him.
At first, there was a cracking sound - the sound that had startled me. Then there was sobbing. A young man’s voice of sobbing. But it wasn’t human. Yeah, Maybe to some degree. But the voice was pitching up; Like it was breaking through a bad static television screen. I stood only a few steps away from the man in the shadow. I wanted to break away from my sudden frozen state of mind - But I couldn’t. I was stuck, like my feet had been nailed to the stairs.
I was trying to speak, but he spoke before I had the chance to. It was getting clearer to see now, since spending some more time in the darkness helped the vision to clear up. He was wearing some kind of jacket, black. Everything black. A sewn cap, with strings falling out from a hole in the back. Also black. His hair was torn but long; Like he hadn’t been able to cut it for a while…Or showered it.
His appearance was etching inside of my mind, but his voice appeared like a dagger in my ears. When he spoke, he made off another static noise, like a broken radio. But he spoke in words. Tried to calm me down. But I was already too scared to try to bring myself to relax.
“You’re alone here, Aren’t you?”
I swallowed hard. The thought of somebody spying on me this entire time was filling my head like urging vomit, feeling disgusted by this man and his voice. I just shook my head. No response. I couldn’t give him a reply. I should have. Maybe it had changed this whole situation for the better. Maybe I hadn’t been here now, scared for my life. But I was. And I knew he knew that as well.
But when I didn’t give him the answer he expected, he turned to me. And his sight was one of the most terrifying yet fascinating faces I had ever seen. He wasn’t scarred or wounded in anyway to make me feel uncomfortable by his appearance.
But his eyes. And his mouth. There was a weird glow. A golden, orange glow. It filled both of his eyeballs and mouth, his teeth shining through in a bright yellow light. It glowed in the dark and it casted a light across us. On the stairs, the floor…On me. And I could see his smirk on his greypained face. That’s when I snapped.
It wasn’t human. And I had to get away from there.
I broke through the invisible bonds and threw myself up the stairs, running up quickly as my untied shoes slammed against the wooden floor. I fled to my room without any other second thought. Hopefully, My roommate that I had been ignoring for so many weeks would hear me. And call the police.
I closed the door after me and I locked the door, my stumbling feet bringing me across the floor and into the desk; knocking my precious family doll down on the floor. The porcelain broke and I gasped in panic, trying to recollect myself and my thoughts. There was no more noise after I had slammed the door to my room. No roommate coming after me, No weird glowing man in the stairwell. Just me and my broken doll; laying on the floor. I tried to scream or cry, call for any help at all. It wasn’t real. I had become too crazy. Insane. After spending so many months just being alone, this is what had happened. I was laying on the floor, broken and shattered in pieces. I didn’t knew what to believe.
I didn’t sleep. I sat on the floor, pacing back and forth by crawling the best I could. The cigarette from before now just sat like a needle in my throat now. I was thirsty but I couldn’t move out to the kitchen to drink anything. Maybe he was there. Still waiting for me to come out. But I wasn’t moving out of my spot. I never did.
But an hour of complete silence in the room, I began to calm down and stand up to try to calm myself down. There was still that feeling of being watched. And I knew the feeling too well. The feeling of being paranoid and lonely all came down to this. A breakdown.
Once I remembered the doll being broken; I immediately started to try to patch it together. It was like the only thing I had in focus; My best friend. The doll. I managed to get a needle and thread in my room and some glue to get the doll back to it’s former glory. But it wasn’t easy. No matter how hard I tried, the doll just would fall back together. It became an endless attempt of nothing. I tried again and again. But it just would fall in pieces.
My only friend.
I became too tired of the sudden panicking and the fixing of the doll; I just passed out on my bed. But I curled up together in a ball with the blanket over my head, somehow imagining that no monster under the bed could reach me now. All I wanted was too sleep.
I didn’t knew he would come back.
This time it was different, however. This time, I welcomed it. I was tired of running all the time and I would rather die in my sleep than face another day being lonely again. And now with my only friend broken, what was I supposed to do?
It was tiring, the way he approached me this time. It was like I was asleep but still I could control my body. Like a lucid dream. I wouldn’t dare to step into another day. Tonight, it would end. Just like I had been afraid that it would. But I didn’t care anymore. Didn’t bother. I just wanted to have a long sleep and never wake up again. Never face the loneliness again.
He came back to me. With his hands guiding me up from my bed, He wrapped his mind around mine as I tried to see. But the only thing I could still see was his grey hands, holding mine tight. But suddenly there was a sensation I wasn’t sure I could feel. Of floating.
Alike a puppet, he cut two open cuts on my wrists. But it wasn’t…across. More like it was from the center of my arm and down. he reached for something. Muscles. Something to peel out and hang unto. The bad thing was; I allowed him to do it. My struggle had become too much to bear with. And with the long pieces of muscles hanging out of the cuts on my wrists, he started to pull at them. He pulled at them like he wanted to control my body and arms, how it all came together in reaction to my nerve system and skeleton. He knew how it worked.
Yet, there was no pain. No pain that filled my heart or body, just another piece of my mind staying at ease again. It was a wonderful feeling.
It was like nothing else mattered.
And as he continued to cut me open, he began singing.
They call me the Puppeteer
My fingers are thin and my hands are stained with my tears
For the puppets I steer
with my strings and dreams.
Now I could see him clearer. The man who I had just hated with all of my might, I now welcomed to finish off my endless suffering. Maybe it had been he who had forced me into this thinking? Maybe he was the one to blame for everything I had done to myself? Was this all in my head - Or was it real?
They call me the Puppeteer
I had no friends, alike you.
For nobody saw the value of my friendship
But in the end they call became my friends
With my strings and dreams.
It took me only a minute to loose every sense of my touch. My nerve system had been crushed under the hand of this man - This thing, breaking every bone in my body. I could feel he twisting my ribs and twisting the hip bones. All for it to make it easier for him to turn him into what he saw me fitting to be. It was like the long pieces of torn muscles was strings; Controlling my limbs and my head flailing from side to side. All I could see was his smile, So I smiled back.
They call me the Puppeteer,
My body dark and my eyes hunger of gold.
In my eyes, No one is alone.
And with my strings and dreams,
You shall be my friend too.
The last feeling I could feel was his hand tugging hard around my neck. Then. Snap. At first, I was afraid to see death approaching me this way. I had never thought of it this way. I would have said no and refused, if I could have decided it all on my own. But I didn’t.
I said yes.
With a broken neck, Death was just half a second away. Then there was nothing but a golden smile and his warm hands, holding my strings up as my body fell.
Early the other morning, My roommate found me. Dead. I had committed suicide by hanging myself in the fan in the ceiling, assuring my death. I had jumped from the bed. Besides me, was that doll. The broken porcelain doll with the red dress and lovely blonde hair. You may be wondering how I’m writing this to you right now, or how I found my way to contact you. I found it necessary to write down my story before I passed on.
This is my legacy, This is what I’m leaving behind.
I couldn’t stand the loneliness anymore. I couldn’t stand facing the problems on my own. It took so long. Too long.
Dear mom and dad,
I’m so sorry.
The Puppeteer, (I was here A.A)is a vengeful spirit who feeds on loneliness and depression. He targets the emotionally fragile, using them for his own gain and power. He will stalk a victim for a certain period of time, slowing twisting them into believing that there is no way from escaping life’s torment other than death. Although the Puppeteer works alone his two unwilling proxies, Zachary [1] and Emra [2] are used in special occasions for when he needs a quick snack. They will seclude the victim in different ways, making the hunt much easier for the Puppeteer.
The demonic poltergeist was once a normal teenage boy by the name of Jonathon Blake who after a horrible break up with the love of his life, secluded himself away from human contact. When he found no reason to continue he locked himself in a room and hung himself leaving his body to be found a few weeks later.
But Blake’s spirit awoke once more, filled with wrath and anger as he transformed into the vicious spirit known as the Puppeteer. Seen as his life was filled with decisions others made for him, within the after life the ghost was finally able to take control of his own life and choices. Believing a standard human name wouldn’t suit him any longer, he choose to be called The Puppeteer. To work behind the curtains and control humans the same way someone would control a puppet would become his reason to exist.
As Jonathon Blake, he was a very withdrawn person and an introvert but he also had a very creative soul. He took good care of his four younger siblings when their parents were away. As the Puppeteer, he is manipulative, charming and a smooth talker to his victims. He is also narcissistic, cruel, stubborn, and only does everything for his own gain.
For most killers it comes down to quantity over quality, Puppeteer is the opposite. He takes his time finding a vulnerable target and spends weeks following them around. In rare cases, it may take up to several months. The more exposed they are to his presence, the faster they fall into depression. Puppeteer will do his best to persuade them that there’s nothing worth living for, and his way of ending their loneliness is going to be the best thing that’s ever happened to them.
Once they’ve reached the point to where they can’t handle reality, or their feelings any longer, Puppeteer gives them an ultimatum. To be killed by him or continue their self loathing ways to which they often agree with. If they choose to be killed Puppeteer will use various ways to finish them off - some including strangulation by his strings, having them jump to their death, or anything that comes to his mind at the time. The hallucinations they’ll have during the act can vary from either him breaking their bones, dancing with them, or pulling out their muscles.
To any outside eyes, the victim’s death will be presented as suicide. This often results in a domino effect, and from there he can continue to the next victim. Once he gets bored, he will move to another area and start from scratch.
His murderous tendencies stemmed from when his own energy would run low, rendering him unable to function properly. Starting out he would often spend little time chasing down his victims and just kill them on the spot, which always resulted in not being completely fed in the end. (Energy lasting for about 3-5 days) He slowly learned that spending more time with his victims would result the energy he gained from that kill lasting a longer period of time. (2-3 weeks) The more depressed a victim is, essentially results in an easier way to leach off of the negative energy provided.
However, his real reason for killing lays much more deeper than just gaining energy to function. In a way, he wishes to bring upon others what he once experienced and felt as a human. He feels betrayed and instead of working through his bitterness, he acts out upon others to bring them down the same way.
Granted, with a stubborn mind the Puppeteer can endure long periods of just waiting for things to happen. He has never been one to rush things, even if the situation would call for it. Being a master of persuasion he can often twist the minds of victims, causing them to see things from his point of view. The Puppeteer is very skilled with handling his strings as a weapon and an overall tool for when needed. They are able to pierce through flesh if needed, but not any other material such as wood, metal, concrete.
As he needs to be able to sustain and hold the weight of his victims, his strings are fairly strong and will not snap easy. If the strings were to break under some circumstance, Puppeteer would feel the pain as if he was wounded in another limb of his. The strings are made from the same ectoplasm as his insides are, therefore he’s able to produce the strings through any other place of his body as well. He’s been seen to produce strings through places like his mouth and nostrils as well, though this surely felt very uncomfortable for him. The strings can reach to a length about 15 meters (50 feet) and hold up to around 200 kg in weight (440 lbs).
Due to his ghostly form, the Puppeteer is extremely vulnerable to any kind of exorcisms, or paranormal resistance. In theory, he could easily be trapped or completely erased if a successful exorcism were to occur. He is sensitive to light, that reason alone acts as to why he’s usually active during the late hours of the night. One of his minor weaknesses is salt.
The Puppeteer is described as being lean and tall. Standing at 6’3", he has an intimidating demeanor. His style of clothing is grungy-like. Sporting a black trench coat, hoodie, undershirt, jeans, sneakers, and beanie. After awakening as The Puppeteer his original light tanned skin had turned grey, his hair color also changed from dark brown to jet black, and his eyes are now golden yellow. Brown was his original eye color.
The Puppeteer has two body forms. One where he is completely transparent and one where he’s able to produce a very solid form. The transparent apparition is where he’s the most presentable with. In this form, he can stalk and prey upon his victims without spending too much energy. Meanwhile, with the solid form, he’s only able to become completely solid when he needs to grab a hold of something or someone. This is used mostly when he finishes a kill. Tears and saliva stains around his eyes and mouth. His arms are two-well crafted doll’s prosthetics.