The Diary

Every man is a burning rope. The thick threads burn quickly, thinning down, something nobody notices; until there’s only a single, thin thread left. Time suddenly slows down as we all watch it burn and finally snap. Dropping whatever is on the other end.        Flowers and petals started to pour as people stood up to show their support and appreciation. “Encore!” they exclaimed as a man came out from behind the curtains. He waved at them and the cheers roared and applause filled the theatre more. The man smiled ear to ear. He bowed to the crowd and proceeded with his exit. On his way back, he picked up his life size puppet with a grunt and force. The puppet weighing him down, but he doesn’t seem to be bothered, he dragged it behind the curtains. “Mister, let me help you”, a boy came up to him. He brushed him off, “The velvet is hard to come by, and I don’t want you getting it dirty. Let me be”, the man said as he seated the puppet on a chair. The boy looked at his hands and then at the puppet, he noticed something, he inched to it, “Mister, your puppet seems to have something on their face?” he pointed. The man shielded the puppet with his body, “Don’t be so nosy, boy! Are you a Puppeteer?” he snapped. The boy shook his head ‘no’, “Do you even know how to make a puppet?!” he exclaimed. Again, he shook ‘no’, “Then put that pipe hole to other use rather than asking about things you have no knowledge of! Now, scram!” he angrily said. The boy did as told, but before fully passing the door, he turned to look for the last time. His eyes widened, the puppet was staring at him. In such horror, he made a dash for the door.