Marrionettes

              You gaze upon a dull backdrop of beautiful pastels painted upon cardboard sheets. A city street, quiet and yet so alive as velvet red curtains decorate the outskirts of the city. And from above the heavens, God plays your strings. You stand up and take a stroll across the faux cobblestone road, your strings moving you as you danced about joyfully. You meet a happy young woman and the two of you take a bow to greet one-another before you part ways. Carefully delicately moving through the city you round a corner as your strings hold your legs in place, and you meet a gay clown.
              And he toots his horn while riding a unicycle, his arms move in the motion like is juggling as the painted-on smile upon his face sings with joy. And behind him a balloon cart made of wood painted delicately. The balloons are suspended like they’re glued in place, like they have strings keeping them in place, and the cart was almost immobile. The clown meets a jester, and then a mime appears, as the three of them showdown in a display of comedy. The mime acts like it is in a box, the jester performs a slapstick, and the clown rides his unicycle with joy. The mime juggles his invisible balls, while the jester dances like a fool. The clown toots his horn, and the three of them pull a balloon dog out from the cart.
              And they hand it to you, and yet you cannot accept it. Your hands cannot hold it, but you admire their generosity. You decline the gift, and go on your way, through the streets you meet a young a animal adventurer who seems to be a bear with mouse ears as he goes on a grand adventure with his friend, a local Crocodile. The two of you cross paths as they great you politely. They offer you an orange, and you accept it, forgetting for a moment you’re unable to grasp anything. And yet here you are, holding the orange, a gift from a friend to another friend. They move on with their adventure, waving to the three fools playing at the balloon cart.
              And as you walk the streets you pass a cardboard circus. Your strings become tangled for just a moment, but God above lets you go, and decide to pay a visit to see the performance on display.
“Step right up! Step right up!” You hear a voice shout as you approach.
“See the Tiger Tamer in action! Step right up! The ferocious Bengal Tiger is being tamed by our heroic hero!” The voice shouts, the only voice, as you hear a whip crack and the sounds of a foul beast roaring violently. And you the lion tamer taming a tiger, such a fascinating performance! He is so brave you think, he is in this cage with the tiger, and he is attempting to fence the beast! You hear the whip crack louder and “Urrah!” as the tamer beckons to the beast with bravado!
“Fascinating! Watching him move!” The ring master shouts as he moves like a stiff puppet, and the tiger dances around stiffly and yet so lively. You watch the beast find a corner and sit, and it laid down like a house cat, purring.
“He has tamed the beast! Hurray!” The ringmaster shouts jovially as the crowd dances and cheers.
              You move along the fair, you see a cotton candy machine, a Ferris wheel, and more. You walk the cardboard alleys and the fields of grass as pastels paint your eyes. But as you walk, time slows down. The paints starts to fade, from vivid pastels, to the dullest of hues. And sounds start to fade until all is quiet. The circus fades to darkness as you’re hoisted into the heavens. Above you the moon, and then nothing. Colors fade away as everything goes away. And soon enough you are back, the circus is the gone, the tiger is missing, and the ringmaster has skipped town. Your strings are weak, and you are lost.
              You wonder where the circus has gone to, it is all so quiet. You see a rabbit being chased by a wolf, the two of them in pursuit of one-another. And the rabbit hides around a corner, and ducks into the backdrop, vanishing as the wolf stands confused. He says no words, just looks around in a dazed manner. The rabbit shows up once again behind the wolf, taps on his shoulder, and the two take chase through the city. But now the are raised to the heavens again. And all goes dark once again. You awake back in the city, back in front of your home, and a beautiful young woman twirls on her strings in front of you.
              You twirl around too, the both of you dancing playfully, you take a bow, and you continue on. Passing the streets of animals and man, your strings guide you, and you feel alive. You pass the mouse like bear and his crocodile companion, and the three jovial jesters. You look for the circus, but it is nowhere to be seen. You are desperate to find it, and yet it shows up nowhere. You find that same woman from before, and the two of you greet. You dance once more, even though you don’t want to. And you take another bow before you’re hoisted into the sky by your strings.
              And you awake, the cardboard torn, the colors almost gone. Your happy face a frown. As the town is empty, it’s just you. You look for the ballerina who you would meet every morning, you know not her name, you just know her. And yet she is gone. You look for the brave adventures, the mouse like bear and his crocodile friend, but they are nowhere. Where are these friends of yours? Where are your companions? You find the circus, in complete disarray, and the colors gone. The ringmaster limps, maybe his string is broken, and the tiger lays in broken fragility. And there in the circus you find the ballerina, that dance, that funky young woman who always greeted you. And in this dull circus the two of you dance a sad dance, your strings tugging against one-another, as you stumble, and fall. Like God let you collapse. And the curtains on the outskirts of town fall shut as you lay quiet and stiff.
              You awake once more in a beautiful ballet hall, a banquet or a recital, no matter the terms, you and the ballerina are dancing once more! The two of you dance, as men in funny hats prance, and music blasts loudly. Your colors repainted; your strings tightened. You dance a happy dance with the ballerina. The two of you happy together, and you take a bow as everyone cheers. The candles blow out, and the curtains on the outskirts fall once more. You get hoisted into the sky as candles are blown out. Like God lifted you from the Earth.
              And almost a decade passes in darkness before you awake. Your colors almost gone, your body withered. You meet the aging ballerina in the streets, the two of you dance, and you dance. Your strings come apart, and you topple to the ground. You lay in a heap, weak and immobile. And the dull city around you fades once more as you are lifted through the sky once more. Uncertain and unaware, you are in the hades of your master, your creator. The ballerina and the brave adventurers. The circus performers and the jesters, all of you lay there asleep.
              It doesn’t have to end this way. We don’t have to lay you to rest in a box of cotton moth balls. Maybe someday someone will paint you up again. Maybe someday your creator will dust off the streets and let you dance once more. Maybe you’ll be happy once again. But for right now you’ll be laid to rest in a small create of moth balls. And your creator will paint a new smile on your face, and you’ll be no longer withered. But until then, may you sleep well, knowing your creator has let you live a wonderful life.