Puppet.
Puppet?
Puppet!
Alive.
Alive!
Alive?
Created by some god.
Made by a bored creator.
Envisioned for the child of a deity.
The puppet was made out of wood.
No, the puppet was made out of felt.
Incorrect, the puppet was made out of magic.
Magic?
Magic!
Witchcraft?
Wrong, good magic.
Powerful magic.
The power of a god!
It didn't feel.
The puppet doesn't need emotions.
You don't need to think.
But did it have a soul?
That...forces me to break the cycle. Darn you!
I don't truly know if it has a soul. Nobody does (Or do you already prefer nopony? We aren't even in Equestria yet!). The only being (and not being) that knows would be the puppet's creator. Its child never knew either, it added fun!
Now, where were we?
Ah, yes!
The puppet was content.
It fulfilled its purpose for ages and eons.
The puppet enjoyed being a puppet.
The child of the deity enjoyed the doll.
The puppet was played with often.
Nothing but playing and joy was the result of the puppet.
Where are we?
What? NO! Now I have to break the cycle again!
I...have no idea where we are, truthfully. We aren't in Equestria, yet. We will have to see in a few pages/chapters.
Now, stop asking these questions. You should simply listen to the story and enjoy it!
Ok.
Anyways, the puppet was a toy for eons.
The doll existed longer than time itself did.
Universes were made-by the creator, of course-and destroyed just next to the puppet and the child.
Creations died all the time, it was the nature of things.
Beings would be killed by some cataclysmic event, it happened.
One day, it may be the puppet's turn, hopefully not!
Puppet.
Puppet.
Puppet.
One.
Two.
Three!
Who was the creator?
You! Nevermind...the creator was who?
And was the creator who. (I won't let you ruin this again!)
The puppet never slept.
The puppet never wept.
The puppet had to accept.
This was its life.
Its life was a puppet.
A puppet was all it was.
No heart to feel.
No brain to think.
No life to end.
Why are you orange now?
Please! Stop interrupting me! I...don't know? Maybe so I am more easily seen!
The god was always there, always present.
The god saw all and everything around.
The god was goodness and truth itself.
The puppet knew noting.
The puppet is only a toy.
Bu-
AND YOU ARE JUST A READER! We are bound in this! Not even I have much control over this.
The puppet was meant for the child.
There was nothing more to life.
There was everything more to existence.
There was something more to experience.
The creator created.
The child played.
The puppet was played with.
Everything was harmony.
Everything was pleasant.
Everything was bliss.
Nobody could die.
Everything could perish.
Some things could decease.
Years passed.
Eons passed.
Forever passed.
People lived and died.
People created and destroyed.
People loved and hated.
Ponies lived and died.
Ponies created and destroyed.
Ponies loved and hated.
Over and over.
Again and again.
On repeat.
The pupped didn't hate it, it can't hate or feel.
The puppet noticed it, it could do that.
The puppet did not realize, for some reason.
The puppet was a doll.
The pupet was misspelled.
The puppet was a puppet.
Had it changed? No
Had it ever been destroyed? No
Did it care? No
Over and over.
Again and again.
On repeat.
One day, the creator was gone.
The child was gone.
Everything was gone.
This worried the puppet...
Author's Note
You isn't even you, the reader!
So who are you?
Are you the "creator in this story?"
The reason I racked my brain in attempt to write "good" stories, to the point I was forced along this ride when I was sick and in bed?
I know that I alone am not the creator, and I am not mad at anybody.
The more I think about it, the more I believe that "you and I" as well as you and I are all parts of the creator...
Aaaanyways, I hope you enjoyed what can't be enjoyed and understood what isn't understandable!
N-No, it didn't....
Yes it did, it worried the puppet a lot.
It would worry me too.
Shush, both of you. I have to....figure something out....this should not have happened.
The puppet knew it can't feel, and the puppet felt that it can't know. It was built to be a puppet, it was made to be a toy, it was not made to be a living, breathing being. It was never "inspired," live was never "breathed" into it. The puppet had no idea what it was, truly, but it did know that it was meant to be a toy. A toy for a god. A god...
A child...
It was meant to be the toy belonging to the child of a god, noting else mattered.
Something else does matter!
Would you two stop talking for a moment?
But what can be done but talk? Ooooh! Colour!
The puppet agreed. It can't talk-yet-but it needs to do something. It is worthless, so it must find worth again!
The puppet is sad, however. Its purpose was to bring joy to the child, but the child is gone. It can only hope that the child and the deity will one day return to it.
No, No, NO! You can't be sad! Haven't you seen? YoU dOn'T fEeL! And neither the creator nor the child will come back!
All three gasp.
No, no, no, no! All three think.
What do I do?! I...I can't finish this alone! The creator made me...or did I make the creator? Am I the creator?No...no, I am not, the author's notes from chapter one proves that...
What are you talking about? Nobody reads those. The god and the god's child can't be gone!
The puppet was confused at their words.
The puppet needed to do something. The puppet needed to know what would happen next to itself.
Would it disappear?
Would it keep li- existing within this...void?
What can it do?
You can wait and let me figure this out!
The puppet grew sadder again.
No, the puppet can't think, the puppet can't feel. The puppet is a doll, like a doll is a puppet. The puppet just is and keeps bringing joy until...the child grows up.
No, no. Don't be sad again! We will figure this out! I'm sure something is wrong, but we can fix it.
True, first we need to fix the fact that a doll and a puppet are not interchangeable. A sock puppet is also a puppet, but it is certainly not a puppet.
Since when are you the villain?
I am not the villain! Just stressed! The villain won't come for quite a few chapters and she won't even be permanent.
Ok, so how do you know what will happen, but not what to do next?
The puppet agrees.
I...do not know...again. Let me think about this, ok? Maybe...I don't know read the first chapter again. We were so happy then!
The puppet agrees.
Well, maybe.
It was a very repetitive existence, this existence is less repetitive which brings some excitement, but it is a sadder existence.
...without sadness of course...
Of course.
...
...
...
Of course! I can narrate!
Can you? You don't seem that great at it.
The puppet is indifferent.
I will just narrate us to be somewhere else, somewhere happier! It's the perfect plan!
Will we still exist there? Do we exist?
Does the puppet exist?
I...do not know. But it is the best I can come up with for now, so it will have to do! I may see you on the other side!
Good bye.
The puppet waves goodbye.
The puppet wakes up and looks around.
There seems to be grass on the ground, mountains in the very distance, a little town not too far from where the puppet stood, at the edge of a dark forrest.
Has she ever stood before?
Has she ever had a physical body?
Has the puppet always been referred to as a she?
The puppet had many questions, she knew that beings with thought lived in towns, created them, even. Maybe beings with thought could tell her where she was and what was happening?
So the puppet started trotting towards the town.
Do they know that the creator is gone? The deity? The god?
Were they even made by the creator? They had to be. The creator...created everything, by extension even the things his creations built. But she didn't know if this place was part of everything. There are more things than everything, infinitely many.
The creator was all powerful, but what if there was more power than all? Wait...why is she being blasphemous? Why is the puppet thinking so much? It can't think!
This worries the puppet. But it can't worry! It can not feel.
Weren't there two others? Or did she imagine them? Can she imagine? One of the voices would have told her. Maybe her creator would have told her, but now the puppet is all alone.
Nopony around to help her.
Nopony to care.
No god to play with her.
The puppet reflected on that. Can she reflect? Reflecting and thinking are different things, thinking creates new ideas and knowledge from basic blocks, while reflecting looks at knowledge to understand parts you didn't notice at first. Thinking builds up knowledge, reflecting breaks it down. A mirror has no mind and can not think, it can reflect, however. But she wasn't a mirror, she was a puppet.
It doesn't fully matter whether she can think or not, whether she feels, whether reflecting is thinking. Her existence had been capsized and she didn't know what to do.
Not even the (imaginary?) voices knew what to do.
Well, only one cared for what to do, the other cared for the puppet.
It made her want to find a new purpose, and focus on other things...
...
The grass felt nice. Soft, a bit of dew, and cool. Since when can the puppet feel? Not the emotional type of feeling, which it can't do, the physical type of feeling. Had she always had touch, or did it come with...everything?
The sky was blue. She knows she can see, she had seen the unseeableness of her creator. The puppet supposes that, however, "seeing" a deity is an oxymoron in and of itself. But she did see parts of the god, and she knows she saw the child of the god as well.
[Bump]
"Oh, I am sorry, Darling," a pony in front of her said.
The puppet must have been so focused looking up into the sky that she entirely forgot to look where she was walking!
"Sorry," somepony else said.
She looked around, but nopony else was there.
Had she....?
Had she spoken?!
She can't speak! Puppets don't speak!
Panic.
PANIC.
PANIC!
PANIC!!!
Rarity was looking at the pony in front of her, the poor mare seemed to have some sort of panic attack.
She looked more frightened than Fluttershy when she suddenly stands in the limelight.
The pony was breathing quickly and had this deeply worried look on her face, as if she thought Rarity may attack her at any moment. Maybe she recognized her and got flustered?
"Don't worry, dear, it is quite all right. Calm yourself," Rarity tried her best to seem soothing and comforting.
"I- I- I- I can't speak!" was all the mare could respond.
"You seem perfectly capable of speech to me, darling, would you like to...go...drink some tea?" Fluttershy likely knew how to get somepony out of a panic attack better than she did, she did get stressed every now and then, but this was excessive!
"T- T- T- Tea? That s- sounds w- w- w- w- wonderful, thanks," the mare responded while breathing faster and faster.
"Well...follow me, then."
The two went off.
While walking, Rarity used the time to study the mare she had stumbled across a little bit. She noticed that the pony seemed to be in perfect condition, that gave her quite the hoof full of ideas for dresses, and she had a light brown coat. The coat seemed similar to...crema on coffee or a birch tree, which would make dress colours a bit more limited, but still no challenge for the fashionista.
The only real oddity about the pony was her style of walking. She walked as if limping everywhere, hopefully she hadn't hurt herself when she ran into Rarity. Or maybe she was just very tired. But the mare's steps where short, her forelegs only doing small flat movements forward, and her hind-legs being dragged behind h-
The strange pony had no cutie mark!
"You don't have a-!" Rarity exclaimed before regaining her composure, "It is interesting to see a mare of your age without a cutie mark."
"Without a what?" the mare responded.
She must be joking! Right?
Rarity wanted to be sure, so she pointed to the trio of gems on her flank.
"Ah," the pony simply stated.
Does she truly not know-
Rarity noticed the mare's eyes widen.
She quickly said, "Eh, Puppet, not mare!"
What?
"Excuse me?"
"You said mare...it's Puppet," she curtly said.
"Is your name...Puppet?"
"Yes?" was the unsure response Rarity got from the mare.
"Puppet it is! So, darling, since you seem to have calmed enough for conversation, may I know what business you are here to attend?" Rarity decided to begin some smalltalk.
"I...am here to find...purpose?"
"You don't seem very sure of that, dear," Rarity pointed out.
"I...don't know what I am doing here, exactly. I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't be able to do this," Puppet seemed stressed about her statement.
"Well...I think everypony should be here, I am not sure what to make of the rest, darling...why don't we get you some of that tea first?" Rarity said as the two approached her boutique.
She would have to get a hold of Fluttershy as quickly as possible, and possibly Twilight as well.
Rarity grandly opened the door, "Welcome, to the Carousel Boutique!"
And the two entered.
[Crack]
An egg cracks.
Dark.
[Crack]
Like black onyx. Like pitch.
[Crack]
It splits open.
What?
"No, I can't be in the right place!" an annoyed unicorn exclaimed.
"Sir, this is one of only three toy stores in Canterlot. If you are looking for a puppet, it will be here," the tour guide replied.
"No, NOT A puppet, THE Puppet!"
"If you require a lost and found, we have a few of those set up at guards stations around the cit-"
"I see that you can sadly be of no help to me. Thank you for your time, goodbye!"
The unicorn left in a huff, leaving the tour guide to only guess why that unicorn was so frustrated.
Probably the descendant of some nobles, ugh, but it is part of his job to deal with all customers.
Author's Note
This is...the end. In a way.
See, this is as far as I got when I was sick. To go further...would either mean I have to come up with more story or...wait until I get sick again.
I hope you enjoyed the, once again, unenjoyable.
