The Chronicles Of A Bohemian Teenager (Part VII).

Red madness. Rose moon. Stretching. No heat. No cold. Just more. More. More. Ring around the rosie. A pocket full of posies. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. Ker-plump. Dust mushrooms. Whoosh! On my back. Looking at the moon. I blink. It winks. Distinctly. And it all dissolves. Melting, like before. When will this end?

Visions of sugar plum fairies greet my eyes. The Steadfast Tin Soldier. Pinocchio. Other puppets. Slap-dash makeup. Twisted grins. Pained grins. Terrified eyes. Cannot bear to look. So many. Tinkerbell. Tinkertoys. Tinkering. KA-FLUMPH! Click. Click. Click. Click.

Creak to life. Manmade. Not controlled. Dancing bears. Painted wings. Waltzing marionettes. Familiar sparks a flower in my mind, catching into a wildflower blaze. Things I almost remember. And that girl. The poster. Her voice. And a song, someone sings. Once upon a time.

Tink. Tink. Tink. Tink. Clink. Clank. Err. Err. Click. Click. Boing! Err. Err. Tink. Tank. Clink. Clank. A cacophony of toyshop sounds. Dancing in three-four time. Around. What goes 'round, comes 'round, and 'round, and 'round, and 'round, and...

BANG! CRACK! Something breaks. Poster Of A Girl halts her vocal requiem. Ring around the rosie. Pocket full of posies. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. Earthshaking, at that. Forsaking. Someone holds me safe and warm. Horses with painted wings prance through a silver storm. Figures dancing gracefully, across my memory.

Who is holding me? Prodigious marionette. Familiar sparks a flower in my mind, singeing the petals of my cerebral cortex. Glowing dim as an ember. Soon fanned into a wildflower blaze. Silver storm of ice hits full force. Dousing the conflagration in an instant. Cold recollection hits. It is you. Shock. Who are you? Scramble like an egg. Away. You collapse, lifeless as a puppet. Ironic. You are a puppet.

The floor show has begun again. Poster Of A Girl begins her bolero. Dancing bears. Waltzing marionettes. Familiar sparks a flower in my mind, catching into a wildflower blaze. Strange, puppets. All around me, familiar faces. Worn out faces. Slap-dash. Faster, faster. Vite, vite! Allegro! Halt. A puppet on a lonely string centerstage. Look up. In the eye. Pained eyes. Painted eyes. Slap-dash. Slash of a mouth opens.

Never an honest word. But that was when I ruled the world.

It snaps. If puppets could snap. Resumption occurs. Faster, faster. A whirlwind of familiar faces. I cannot bear to look. You are gone. No one holds me safe and warm. Awful sight. I stand, leave to exit. Door. Flaming red exit. Another crack. I look. They've all stopped. Puppet on a lonely string.

Please don't leave. We don't want to die.

It was the wicked and wild wind. Blew down the doors, shattered windows. Scooped me up. Ran out that door like a speeding bullet. Puppet On A Lonely String screams. Unearthly, to say the least. From the bowels of Hell. Tortured scream. Pained eyes. Painted eyes. Slap-dash. Whirlwindish cacophony. Whisked out of the stage.

Then you appear. No longer a puppet. Puppetmaster.

You've disappointed me.

What was I supposed to --

You do realize what you've done?

I -- What?

You've killed all I held dear. Look at them. They're all dead.

And they are. Every last one. Burned. Charred. Incineration. Internal flame. Unearthly scream, indeed. Awful sight. But still. "Puppets?" I question.

This cannot go unpunished. The next time you see me, I shall not be quite so cordial. I shall be aiming to break you or kill you. Whichever comes swifter.

Off like a shot. Again. Swerving this way and that. Looking for something. You are lost. "Wait!" I call. "I didn't --" But you are out of sight. I am terrified. No choice but to take the brunt. Hope for the best. Where the fuck am I? Puppets? Fleeting human contact, I think. I am lost. You are lost. But for a moment, we were lost together.

I wonder who you are.