The Puppet
The First Victim, Music Box Marionette
Strings pull tighter when the music stops.
I was the first. The others followed. I don’t speak, not with words—but you’ll understand soon enough. Every twitch of my hand rewinds the night that never ended. The melody calms me. The silence… lets me work. I made the others what they are. Not alive. Not dead. Just angry.
What I'm Into: broken music boxes, unfinished lullabies, dusty dining halls, the weight of vengeance, strings that never snap
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