The Puppet

Cassie Mills rushed through the carnival crowd, knocking over a child and almost throwing an elderly man's walker out of her way. Although the dark blue sky of a summer night opened up above her, she felt suffocated. She needed to leave this carnival din and go back to her quiet home. But something stopped her from running. Suddenly the carnival lights and sounds disappeared to be replaced by the ground rocking up to meet her.

It was several moments before she realized that she had collapsed to the ground, though whether she had tripped or fainted she could not tell. Voices above her asked the same question, "Are you all right? Are you all right?" Then a familiar voice, the voice of her friend, Vivian Joyce, spoke in alarm to everyone standing around, "Move away from her. I think she's having a panic attack. Move away." Cassie knew Vivian must be right. She had been having panic attacks for the past year.

Cassie was short and very round, and it was with some effort that she rolled over onto her back and saw her friend leaning over her. Her pale, oval face seemed to float above her as her brown hair blended in with the night sky.

"I hated that puppet," was the first thing that Cassie said.

Vivian was taller but skinnier, and she strained to pull Cassie to her feet. Panting, she said, "You could have just told me that you didn't want to watch the puppets instead of running away."

"I didn't mean to," replied Cassie, honestly. "But that puppet - " Its image floated into her mind, and she shivered. "That puppet reminded me of - of Monica."

"Oh." Vivian sounded surprised. "Oh, I see. I'm sorry. I never met her so I didn't know."

"I know," said Cassie morosely. "But it really did look like her."

Thoughtfully, Vivian brushed some dirt out of her friend's short, gray curls. "Well, I understand why you were so scared. If Janet had been missing for a year, I'd go pretty crazy too."

Cassie was secretly glad that Janet had friends to hang out with at the carnival. Watching mother and daughter together was occasionally painful.

"I'm all right now," said Cassie, but it was almost half an hour later before they were able to continue walking around the carnival grounds. Paramedics had been called by an employee in a nearby food booth, and Cassie had to reassure them that while a little bruised from her fall, she was none the worse for wear.

They ate dinner, and afterwards, Cassie felt much better. She knew she had been silly, and she was embarrassed, but having a good friend like Vivian was helpful. They talked about everything except Monica and the puppet. Later, after multiple rides and shopping, the carnival crowd had shrunken, and Vivian had taken Janet home since it was a school night. Most of the carnival employees were cleaning up booths and stalls.

Cassie knew at the time that it was not a very good idea, and there was no point to it, but she wanted to see the puppets again. Of course, the puppets were probably packed up, but on the off chance that they were not - perhaps they were left on the stage overnight - she returned to the puppet stage.

She often avoided talking about her missing daughter, and Vivian being a coworker she had recently befriended, she had not told her that Monica had first gone missing at this same carnival almost exactly a year ago. She was afraid that if she mentioned this, then Vivian would be constantly worried about her panic attacks, which had started after Monica went missing.

Cassie reached the puppet stage, which was now dark. Behind it was a tent striped green and white, but there were no lights on in there either. She wondered sadly if Monica had seen the puppets just before - whatever it was that had happened to her.

"Good evening," said a man's voice.

The bright lights on the stage suddenly flashed on, and Cassie stepped back, blinking. She was also afraid, though she did not know why. She regained enough of her sight to see a handsome, gray-haired man in his fifties standing in front of her, dressed in shirt and jeans, but she recognized him as the puppet master from earlier. He had presumably come from inside the tent.

"Hello," said Cassie awkwardly. "Sorry to intrude - "

"You're not intruding," he said swiftly.

She noticed that his eyes were gray like his hair. She also noticed that despite his calm voice, his eyes were not calm but hard and intense.

"Are you looking for anyone?" asked the puppet master.

Cassie swallowed. It was a natural question, but so horribly specific from her point of view.

"No, not really," she answered, but she could not help looking into his eyes, which made her so uncomfortable. "I mean, my daughter went missing at the carnival last year, but that was so long ago . . ." Her voice drifted.

"Ah, my condolences," he said. "Curious, however."

"What do you mean?"

"Last year, I was puppet master here as well, and after the carnival was over, I found this poor girl lying in a heap by a dumpster. I took her into my tent and revived her enough that she told me her story. Apparently, her mother was cruel to her. She controlled her every move. She was not allowed to have friends; she could not date boys; she could not even wear clothing that her mother did not approve of. She had come to the carnival by herself, but she was found out by her mother, who said that she was the worst daughter in the world, and why could she not have a better one? And after telling me her sad story, she died."

Cassie, crying and trembling horribly, cried out, "How did she die?"

"She had collapsed because she had cut herself. Not in the way of getting attention, as some people do, but in the way of successfully killing herself. I had called the paramedics, but they were not in time."

He turned around and walked towards the stage where Cassie saw again the puppet which had reminded her of her daughter so much. The puppet was life-sized, thin, and had curly blond hair, much like Cassie's when she had been younger, and it sat on a swing made of wood like itself.

"How could you?" she screamed, and the puppet master, now on the stage, turned back to face her. "How could you make a puppet like her?"

He grinned viciously. "I thought you might want a token reminder of the evil you committed. But why should you mind if she's my puppet now? When she was yours, you didn't like her."

Cassie walked jerkily up to the stage, fingers gripping her fat cheeks as if she were not sure what to do with her hands while recognizing the horror of what he had just admitted to her.

"You monster," she breathed, gazing at him with hatred.

"Am I?" He laughed, and she could have killed him for laughing at her. "I could turn that into a joke: What did one monster say to the other monster?"

"Stop it!"

"Look at the puppet more closely," he murmured. "I've always felt that your daughter's spirit has resided in my recreation of her."

He vanished inside the tent, and Cassie, not knowing what she would do to him, except that it would be a terrible crime, ran up the steps. But as soon as her feet touched the stage, she heard a tiny child's voice, like that of a baby doll, say, "Mama."

Gasping, she looked at the puppet that was so much like her daughter, but it said and did nothing. She moved closer to the door of the tent, but she heard again, "Mama."

Now the puppet's wood face was staring at her.

"Monica?" whispered Cassie.

"Mama." This time the puppet's wooden mouth moved as it made the sound. "Mama. Mama. Mama."

The puppet rose from its swing and trailed the unattached strings behind it as it strode slowly in her direction. "Mama."

"No," shrieked Cassie, and she ran to the puppet to push it off the stage and break it.

But the puppet said one more time, "Mama," and flung its right arm at Cassie, knocking her to the pavement beneath the stage. A pool of blood began to form around her head.

If Vivian had gone to the carnival the next day, she would have seen a new puppet hopping on the stage that was eerily familiar.