Sylvia: Yes, it is.
Mirror: So we might as well try something interesting.
Sylvia: If this is a RWBY story we’re Riffing –
Mirror: No, no, it isn’t. Sadly. No, it’s a story called “The Puppeteer.”
Sylvia: That sounds promising. Maybe it’ll be pretty good.
Mirror: It was from Deviantart.
Sylvia: Fuck me with a spiked dildo.
Mirror: That’s the spirit. Anyway, let’s whine a lot, and Riff this bitch.
I had this doll for quite a while now.
Mirror: I think you mean “action figure.”
It was a beautiful porcelain doll. You know, the way that most porcelain doll looks like.
Sylvia: Like something out of a bad horror movie?
I was just like that. Wavy, long blonde curls. Black eyes.
Mirror: You had black eyes? What is this, “Jane the Killer?”
A beautiful pink and red dress with a typical headband with lace around the edges. It was a doll I received from my mother at an early age. At that age I always thought it was such a pretty doll - A perfect look. My grandmother had almost fifty dolls of that kind. All of them beautiful, perfect porcelain dolls. But this one in particular, the blonde with the red dress, I will always remember.
Because this is the one that would be the death of me.
I lived alone for quite awhile, had now. I had just gotten into college, seeing my whole life lay in front of me and all I had to do was to just go and pick out what I wanted.
Mirror: (Narrator): I wanted fifteen pounds of cocaine and the entire run of Planet Sheen.
Easy as that. I was aiming for Psychology - A subject I had started to respect and enjoy the last three years. Seeing as my mother was a nurse and my dad a therapist, It was an obvious choice for me.
Sylvia: (Narrator): Which is exactly why I chose to be a stripper.
But moving so far away from all my friends and family wasn't as easy as I thought.
Sure, My roommate was a nice person, but maybe not as chatty as I had hoped to. I wasn't a person to just sit quiet in my room and never speak until I had to. I enjoyed getting out, see friends…But I didn't have any time or friends around.
Mirror: Well, there’s the Internet for friends. Or you could kidnap people. Maybe take a bit of time out of your schedule to make friends. Just saying.
No one would talk to me unless I wanted help from my teacher in school or my roommate had forgotten to buy milk. It was lonely to say the least.
Homework was the only thing to keep me distracted from feeling lonely.
Sylvia: (Narrator): That, and my crippling drug addiction.
I didn't had time to try to even make friends. Friends was a silly thing after all.
Mirror: Hey, I like Friends. It was a good show.
I didn't had time to go and party, maybe find somebody. It was worthless either way and my dad would skin me alive if I didn't keep my focus on the schoolwork.
The only thing I had brought from home to remind me of my family was that doll.
Sylvia: (Narrator): That, and the pictures I have of my family.
The girlish toy was displayed on the desk in front of my bed, smiling against me when I needed someone to talk to or just watch over me as I slept. It was me and that doll the whole time. That fucking ugly doll.
Mirror: A Donald Trump doll?
As time went on, I started to pull myself more and more away from any human contact as possible. The schoolwork was getting over my head and the regret of going here began filling my head. But I couldn't quit now and go home, not after my parents had paid everything for my college and car to get here. I just had to stay and make the best out of it. I really tried hard.
Sylvia: Cue the Linkin Park.
But with each day the hatred of other people took the hold of me and I would need hours alone, just sitting in my room to cool off. It was getting harder to get out each day. My roommate despised me, I could tell. But I didn't blame her.
Mirror: (Narrator): Even the readers are starting to hate me.
I was acting like a jerk. I refused to take my share of the daily chores - wiping the floors, taking out the trash…But I couldn't do it. I was being pulled into a dark hole.
And with the loneliness came the paranoia.
At first I accepted being lonely. But it had reached that point where I started to realize my dumb behavior, trying to reach out to people among to tell them I wasn't feeling alright. There was only stress and nobody had time to talk to a stupid college student.
Sylvia: There’s this amazing invention called a phone you could use to talk to your parents. I mean, your therapist dad could be just a tad useful here.
It was only the nerves. I hoped it was. I locked myself in my room and I couldn't go out anymore. I had to send in to my teachers and cancel the classes, day after day. But it didn't matter. They didn't send anything in search for me. So I just kept spinning in my room, week out and week in. It was an evil circle I couldn't get out of.
Mirror: Circles are the most evil of shapes.
Then it happened. My room had been my cage.
Sylvia: (Narrator): And some assholes kept teasing me through the cage.
I wouldn't eat; I couldn't. It even reached that point where my roommate would come and knock on my door to see everything was ok. But I didn't open it up. I just yelled back in reply that she would go away. She did.
She didn't care enough to make a second attempt. She never knocked on my door again.
Mirror: So, was she paying your portion of the rent too? I mean, you two aren’t talking, so…
It was just me. Me and my doll watching over me and every breath I took.
Then there was that night.
This night, actually.
Sylvia: (Narrator): It was a dark and stormy night…
It was a night that I was so used to spending. Alone. I didn't even bother trying to turn on the lights as I stepped up from my bed and pulled on sweater and a pair of untied converse before I made my way out of my room in so many days. I needed fresh air and my window was broken, unable to open it up. It was in the middle of the night, maybe even morning. It was still dark outside so I just assumed it was still night even though I hadn't checked the time yet. Couldn't care less.
Mirror: Thank you for those useless and unneeded details.
Anyway, It was a pain in the ass to come out of the room to not wake my stupid roommate up.
Sylvia: Yes, your stupid roommate who puts up with your bullshit and tried helping you. You know, you’re kind of a dick.
All I needed was to get out for a minute or two to gather some air, maybe go out and buy some cigarettes. I had promised myself to stop smoking but lately, that was the only thing I had been doing. Smoking. I only snuck out late at night to go and get me some new cigs. It was a bad thing, I knew. But it was the only thing to keep me going and kept me awake and safe.
Mirror: Minor spoiler: smoking and cigarettes have almost nothing to do with the rest of the story. So that paragraph was almost entirely pointless. Hooray for padding!
But that particular night, there was something strange.
Sylvia: Doctor Strange.
Someone had unlocked the gate out to the street. It hadn't happened before and I thought the landlord held a hard hand to keep it locked at all times. Didn't bother. I just pushed the little red box out of the pocket and started smoking. The good thing about the night was that no one was around, no one to annoy me with their stupid voices.
Mirror: (Narrator): Yeah, those stupid people with their stupid voices trying to prevent me from getting lung cancer. They’re such stupidheads.
It was quiet, maybe just a car driving by. But then, no more than that. It was peaceful.
A few minutes after gaining some cold on my warm skin and some smoke inside of my lungs,
Sylvia: Smoke, and tumor growths.
I decided to go back in and maybe try to watch some television. Nothing good aired at night,
Mirror: Oh, come on, “Bikini Babes From Outer Space” is a great movie that only airs at night.
but it was always worth a try.
I stepped back into the building and shrugged the last bit of unwanted cold off, making myself ready to sneak back into my room. But as soon as I came to the staircase, there was something in the way.
Sylvia: (Narrator): A sentient vending machine.
Or, someone. Someone was standing in the stairs.
I had to admit, it did scare me to some point but a second later, I was back in my 'not give a single fuck' state and tried to walk up the stairs without confronting the person standing in the way. At first I thought it was my roommate, but the shadow of the person was too…manly. Too big to be the petite roommate that I knew.
Mirror: Hey, maybe your roommate started using steroids.
I tried to pass the odd stranger and just slightly bumped my elbow into his. But he didn't move or spoke. He just stood there. It was creeping me out. The scenario was too freaky. But of course, there was other students in this apartment building just waiting to scare the shit out of some other poor first year student. But I wasn't the one to be fooled.
Sylvia: You say, as you’re creeped out.
But I didn't stop until I heard a sound. It was one of those sounds where it just caused your concentration to break shut.
It was…distracting. Scaring. Unnerving. I couldn't continue on, so I just froze in position and tried to turn around to face him.
At first, there was a cracking sound - the sound that had startled me. Then there was sobbing. A young man's voice of sobbing. But it wasn't human.
Sylvia: (Narrator): It was more Klingon or something.
Yeah, Maybe to some degree. But the voice was pitching up; Like it was breaking through a bad static television screen. I stood only a few steps away from the man in the shadow. I wanted to break away from my sudden frozen state of mind - But I couldn't. I was stuck, like my feet had been nailed to the stairs.
Mirror: (Narrator): Maybe that’s why my feet were really hurting.
I was trying to speak, but he spoke before I had the chance to. It was getting clearer to see now, since spending some more time in the darkness helped the vision to clear up. He was wearing some kind of jacket, black. Everything black. A sewn cap, with strings falling out from a hole in the back. Also black. His hair was torn but long; Like he hadn't been able to cut it for a while...Or showered it.
Sylvia: Hello, person with hair totally not inspired by Jeff the Killer.
His appearance was etching inside of my mind, but his voice appeared like a dagger in my ears. When he spoke, he made off another static noise, like a broken radio. But he spoke in words.
Mirror: As opposed to hand puppets or color coordinated fireworks.
Tried to calm me down. But I was already too scared to try to bring myself to relax.
"You're alone here, Aren't you?"
I swallowed hard.
Sylvia: At least she didn’t spit.
The thought of somebody spying on me this entire time was filling my head like urging vomit, feeling disgusted by this man and his voice.
Mirror: “Urging Vomit” is a really good description of the “Sonic.exe” stories.
I just shook my head. No response. I couldn't give him a reply. I should have. Maybe it had changed this whole situation for the better. Maybe I hadn't been here now, scared for my life. But I was. And I knew he knew that as well.
Sylvia: (Narrator): And he knew I knew he knew. And I knew he knew that I knew he knew. And…
Mirror: Ok, stop.
But when I didn't give him the answer he expected, he turned to me. And his sight was one of the most terrifying yet fascinating faces I had ever seen.
Mirror: (Narrator): His face looked like a piece of garbage fucked a lawn gnome, and the child of that union grew up to get hit by a truck, and dropped off a building into a gorilla pen. Really, it’s quite beautiful in a repulsive way.
He wasn't scarred or wounded in anyway to make me feel uncomfortable by his appearance.
Sylvia: (Writer): So it’s totally not Jeff the Killer, guys.
But his eyes. And his mouth. There was a weird glow. A golden, orange glow. It filled both of his eyeballs and mouth, his teeth shining through in a bright yellow light.
Mirror: Behold…the Human Flashlight.
It glowed in the dark and it casted a light across us. On the stairs, the floor…On me. And I could see his smirk on his greypained face. That's when I snapped.
Sylvia: At least it wasn’t a “weird feeling…”
It wasn't human. And I had to get away from there.
I broke through the invisible bonds and threw myself up the stairs, running up quickly as my untied shoes slammed against the wooden floor.
Mirror: Is this one big shoe-tying PSA?
I fled to my room without any other second thought. Hopefully, My roommate that I had been ignoring for so many weeks would hear me. And call the police.
Sylvia: I really hope your roommate doesn’t.
I closed the door after me and I locked the door, my stumbling feet bringing me across the floor and into the desk; knocking my precious family doll down on the floor. The porcelain broke and I gasped in panic, trying to recollect myself and my thoughts. There was no more noise after I had slammed the door to my room. No roommate coming after me, No weird glowing man in the stairwell. Just me and my broken doll; laying on the floor. I tried to scream or cry, call for any help at all. It wasn't real. I had become too crazy. Insane. After spending so many months just being alone, this is what had happened. I was laying on the floor, broken and shattered in pieces. I didn't knew what to believe.
Mirror: Is this “Psychosis?”
I didn't sleep. I sat on the floor, pacing back and forth by crawling the best I could. The cigarette from before now just sat like a needle in my throat now. I was thirsty but I couldn't move out to the kitchen to drink anything. Maybe he was there. Still waiting for me to come out. But I wasn't moving out of my spot.
Sylvia: Wow, Sheldon Cooper really went off the deep end.
I never did.
But an hour of complete silence in the room, I began to calm down and stand up to try to calm myself down. There was still that feeling of being watched.
Mirror: Great, it’s another Slender Man story.
And I knew the feeling too well.
The feeling of being paranoid and lonely all came down to this. A breakdown.
Once I remembered the doll being broken; I immediately started to try to patch it together. It was like the only thing I had in focus; My best friend. The doll.
Sylvia: You really need to get out more.
I managed to get a needle and thread in my room and some glue to get the doll back to it's former glory. But it wasn't easy. No matter how hard I tried, the doll just would fall back together.
Mirror: “Fall back together?” So it fell back whole?
It became an endless attempt of nothing.
Sylvia: Like my ex-boyfriend’s attempts to get back together with me. Listen, Chad, it’s not happening. Move on.
I tried again and again. But it just would fall in pieces.
My only friend.
I became too tired of the sudden panicking and the fixing of the doll; I just passed out on my bed. But I curled up together in a ball with the blanket over my head, somehow imagining that no monster under the bed could reach me now.
Mirror: There were no monsters under your bed. The monster was around the staircase. You know, I don’t think those were cigarettes you were smoking.
All I wanted was too sleep.
Sylvia: -cough- Jeff –cough-
I didn't knew he would come back.
This time it was different, however. This time, I welcomed it. I was tired of running all the time and I would rather die in my sleep than face another day being lonely again. And now with my only friend broken, what was I supposed to do?
Mirror: Go out, make new friends, maybe – oh, fuck it, the story’s almost over.
It was tiring, the way he approached me this time. It was like I was asleep but still I could control my body. Like a lucid dream. I wouldn't dare to step into another day. Tonight, it would end. Just like I had been afraid that it would. But I didn't care anymore. Didn't bother. I just wanted to have a long sleep and never wake up again.
Sylvia: TOTALLY NOT AT ALL A REFERENCE TO JEFF.
Never face the loneliness again.
He came back to me. With his hands guiding me up from my bed, He wrapped his mind around mine as I tried to see. But the only thing I could still see was his grey hands, holding mine tight.
Mirror: Hey, you made a new friend.
But suddenly there was a sensation I wasn't sure I could feel. Of floating.
Alike a puppet, he cut two open cuts on my wrists.
Sylvia: Wow! What an incredibly subtle suicide allegory!
But it wasn't…across. More like it was from the center of my arm and down. he reached for something. Muscles. Something to peel out and hang unto. The bad thing was; I allowed him to do it. My struggle had become too much to bear with.
Mirror: Life is pain, blah blah blah. God, I wish we’d brought some alcohol over from the Cheese Doodle.
And with the long pieces of muscles hanging out of the cuts on my wrists, he started to pull at them. He pulled at them like he wanted to control my body and arms, how it all came together in reaction to my nerve system and skeleton. He knew how it worked.
Sylvia: (Narrator): And I knew he knew how it worked. And he knew I knew he knew how it worked. And…
Mirror: Please stop.
Yet, there was no pain. No pain that filled my heart or body, just another piece of my mind staying at ease again. It was a wonderful feeling.
It was like nothing else mattered.
And as he continued to cut me open, he began singing.
They call me the Puppeteer
Mirror: (Puppeteer): It’s the name of me, the OC.
My fingers are thin and my hands are stained with my tears
For the puppets I steer
with my strings and dreams.
Now I could see him clearer. The man who I had just hated with all of my might, I now welcomed to finish off my endless suffering. Maybe it had been he who had forced me into this thinking? Maybe he was the one to blame for everything I had done to myself? Was this all in my head - Or was it real?
Sylvia: Is this the real life? Or is this just fantasy?
Mirror: Caught in a landslide. No escape from reality.
Both: OPEN YOUR EYES. LOOK UP TO THE SKY AND SEEEEEEE…
Mirror: I’m just a poor boy.
Sylvia: I need no sympathy.
Mirror: Because I’m –
Jeff: -knocking- Will you two stop singing? Jesus.
They call me the Puppeteer
I had no friends, alike you.
For nobody saw the value of my friendship
Mirror: (Puppeteer): Because people are assholes.
But in the end they call became my friends
With my strings and dreams.
It took me only a minute to loose every sense of my touch. My nerve system had been crushed under the hand of this man - This thing, breaking every bone in my body. I could feel he twisting my ribs and twisting the hip bones. All for it to make it easier for him to turn him into what he saw me fitting to be.
Sylvia: (Narrator): A coat rack.
It was like the long pieces of torn muscles was strings; Controlling my limbs and my head flailing from side to side. All I could see was his smile, So I smiled back.
They call me the Puppeteer,
My body dark and my eyes hunger of gold.
In my eyes, No one is alone.
Mirror: And, seriously, who was phone?
And with my strings and dreams,
You shall be my friend too.
The last feeling I could feel was his hand tugging hard around my neck. Then. Snap. At first, I was afraid to see death approaching me this way. I had never thought of it this way. I would have said no and refused, if I could have decided it all on my own. But I didn't.
I said yes.
Sylvia: We should try reevaluating the power of saying, “No.” After all,, I said yes to something too. Now I’m on a ship with some guy in a mask and vest that’s way too revealing.
Sylvia: You show more clevage than a Kardashian, and you know it.
Mirror: …I hate it when you’re right.
With a broken neck, Death was just half a second away. Then there was nothing but a golden smile and his warm hands, holding my strings up as my body fell.
Early the other morning, My roommate found me. Dead. I had committed suicide by hanging myself in the fan in the ceiling, assuring my death. I had jumped from the bed. Besides me, was that doll. The broken porcelain doll with the red dress and lovely blonde hair. You may be wondering how I'm writing this to you right now, or how I found my way to contact you.
Mirror: (Narrator): The answer: fuck you, and accept this.
I found it necessary to write down my story before I passed on.
This is my legacy, This is what I'm leaving behind.
Sylvia: You left behind something of little value?
I couldn't stand the loneliness anymore. I couldn't stand facing the problems on my own. It took so long. Too long.
Dear mom and dad,
I'm so sorry.
Mirror: (Narrator): I really should’ve proofread this beforehand. Sorry about that.
Mirror: This story is just boring.
Sylvia: Am I doing the cons now?
Mirror: If you want, sure.
Sylvia: Alright. Nice change of pace. Anyway, the story really, really drags. It’s pretty long, and it feels long. This is partly because of a lot of unnecessary details. For example, the careers of the main character’s parents don’t really add anything to the story, nor does knowing what the main character is studying for. In fact, knowing that it’s psychology and that her dad’s a therapist makes this story pretty stupid. Obviously, she knows a thing or two about psychology, and since this story is mainly about depression and suicide, she’d probably know the signs and tell someone. Like, say, her therapist dad. Also, on the subject of unneeded details, the whole smoking thing was unneeded. Say that the main character (who I feel is a she, because porcelain doll and female roommate) went out for a drink, or some food or something. Don’t go into a diatribe about smoking. You’re talking about suicide, damn it. Focus on that. Also, speaking of suicide and depression, we here at Creepypasta Riffs recognize that these are serious issues. We also recognize that the main character of this story is just really irritating. She’s just so whiny. Now, that may seem insensitive, but keep in mind we’re not trying to insult anyone suffering from depression, we’re just saying this character is really, really annoying. All she does is whine and complain and hide and contribute nothing of value. Now, if we saw her earlier, when she was happy, or if she were a likable character beforehand, it would be easy to feel sympathy for her. However, most of her life was glossed over in the beginning, and we only knew her as the whiny person who has depression. That’s her character. We don’t know anything about her, including her name, except for the fact that’s she just plain annoying. And because she’s pretty unlikable, you don’t feel at all bad for her, and hope she just shuts up soon. Now, as for the person who shuts her up, the Puppeteer, what, exactly, is he? That’s never quite explained. Is he a hallucination? An actual being? Never explained. Speaking of things that aren’t explained, how and why does the main character write her suicide note this way? Why not say, “I’ve been depressed lately, and now some being is helping me kill myself”? Boom. Saved us a story. Yeah, I know, it’s a story, and it would make some sense for her to explain a bit more, but still. This was a bit much. By the way, what was the point of the doll? I mean, sure, I get it, give the main character a friend of sorts, and when she loses it she decides to kill herself, but the doll itself doesn’t really play into the story all that much. It’s just sort of there until it needs to break. And why a doll? Was it to symbolize the fragility of the human spirit and psyche and parallel the main character’s psychotic break? Or was it pretentious bullshit? You decide. Finally, there’s some awkward capitalization and grammar mistakes in this story.
Mirror: There are some good things. The basic idea of the story – girl becomes a depressed and is visited by a being who will kill her, which she ends up welcoming – isn’t exactly a terrible idea. But, if you’re going for a suicide allegory, why not end it differently? Why not have our main character rise up, and say no to the Puppeteer, and end it on a brighter note? Keep in mind, this story is mainly embraced by people who are/were depressed, so why not end it on a note that says, “Things get better”? Just a thought. Also, the Puppeteer is kind of an interesting character. He seems to be someone who wants to do good, but ends up, you know, killing people. A story focusing more on him would be interesting. Then again, this isn’t the only story with the Puppeteer, and we’ll probably be seeing him again here again, so who knows?
Mirror: But that’s what we think. What do you guys think? Was the story good? Was the Riff good? Do you wish Dorkpool were here? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.