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short storys from a old bear


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"I saw then, a figure just by the lake. The air was so still that I dare not breathe. She moved with such grace and such life one would hardly think her to be human. I returned night after night just to watch her dance. Every time she stole my heart. It seemed as if the world held still just for her. Time pausing so that it could draw out those moments for eternity. The last night I saw her there was no moon in the sky. Darkness hung like a shroud over the water. But I had to see. I could not walk away, my obsessions unfulfilled. So I lit a torch. And stepped back in horror, the shock of it all breaking the illusion of this silent world. Strings clung to her figure and pale ***t chipped away upon her cheeks. Her glass eyes stared out across the water with each twirl orchestrated by some unseen hand. And so I ran. I ran back to my home where my bed lay empty and my fire lay cold. I laid in my bed and wept. I did not eat or drink. I could hardly blink without her flashing in my mind. I begged it end but my thoughts were only of that damned doll. In the coldest moments when I sleep alone I dreamt of the silent calm that was gifted to her as she danced. I dreamt of how time stood still for her and the wind held its breath for her. In those moments I became bitter at the world. This sullen world that could not find peace if it was a screaming pig. This world for which the wind howled and moaned to cover the constant sounds of a society in agony. Tonight I walk back to the lake. The moon is full but I no longer need its silver illusion. I have come to realize that this doll in all her wonder and mystery, although still a doll held by the strings, knows more of what it is to be pure than the rest of the world. I have ***ted my face. White as death, with sunflowers upon each cheek and the brightest red smile. I sold my house and bought the finest clothing I could. Bright colors in lovely patterns. Why I have even tied string to my joints in offering to whatever *** pulls hers. And the flower crown noose around my neck is my favorite part. A statement I think. But of what I am not sure. It felt right. I am at the lake now. She has not yet started her dance. She waits. Her glass eyes stare at me for the first time. I can see her perfectly and the rosy smile ***ted on her lips is welcoming. The strings pull at me. I feel at peace finally. I am where I am meant to be and just in time. I can tell she has been waiting so long. They both have. Master and puppet welcome me.

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