Controlled Stage

• Nyssa Suraj, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2021

I walk through the dull lit auditorium. It reeks of old wood, as the red cushioned chairs are stampeded with dust but were risen like a ripple, up the cave of success. The splintered railing leads to the dented stage, were beauty of creativity, unfolded. I arrived at a time, a magical moment where physics and reality didn’t exist; it never emerged of the human’s pondering mind, but the imagination of a child. The unbelievable perspective of life etched into the limitless possibilities, that are uncontrollable world secrets. It all unfolds in the nature of us, the wanting of more.
T’was a great time of the year. Like an ancient clock beginning to turn its cogs. Mother and Father had seized their lifestyles for money, but unravelled the beauty of the simple, wood, wire, and the creativity of the human mind.
I pace up the wooden stairs, each creaking. I wonder what miracles would happen, with ordinary utensils, and Egyptian creativity. I’m on the stage in awe of the backdrop. The fickle light of the marionette glistens. A moon silhouette begins to move. I applaud its staggered but graceful movement, waves across the stage. But they’re being controlled…by themselves. It felt as if thunder shuddered through me… I wasn’t alone.
A flash came past, and I had a sensation of greed. I felt controlled. Mastered by hands, like the lifeless puppet’s ruler. A spectrum of envisioning the beauty of ordinary objects appeared. I was in love with it. I touched the glow, and greed emerged, swallowing innocence and vulnerability within me. The memory of this essence will never be enough as a mindless object.
The blare grabbed me, trapping me within, with a grappled feeling. The master dragged me amongst the floor, engrossing me into luminescence. I try to fight. But I was weak. Something else was strong. I couldn’t escape it.
My body felt heavy. I enter an unconscious state; darkness invites me into reality. My limbs went rigid and harsh string invaded holes in my arms. My wooded hands splintered the surface of cardboard. I was isolated with emotion, in a remote dusted world. I became fake. I was heartless. A box lost and forgotten. I was evaded. I had been trapped in my own puppet. The blind answer peered through my mind, as if fantasy happened in reality, painted like magic; that really happened.
Greed and envy took over and encased me blindly. Marionettes are mastered through the artistry of beautiful hands, but are forced, into dependent, fake lives. Who knew the kindle of the young child’s mind, that yearns for something, they wish but never can reach, is revealed through the mind’s sharp words.
My devil arose, swallowing my passion and want. I’m not worth it, I won’t be appreciated for what I do. My mind will be in control of me, the devil will always perk upon my shoulder, whispering the truth. All the urging sensations win. They control me. I am controlled.