The Marionette

Chapter One - Vladimir Volkov

Master of Puppets I'm pulling your strings, twisting your mind and smashing your dreams. Blinded by me, you can't see a thing. Just call my name 'cause I'll hear you scream. Master, Master.

--Metallica, Master of Puppets

Chapter One- Vladimir Volkov

I've always had an obsession with Puppets, Ventriloquist Dummies. My Mother and Father, knowing that fact, purchased tickets for me to go see a showing at the theater. Vladimir Volkov was a very well known Marionette who had gotten his stardom in Russia at a very young age, not to mention, he was really sexy. He was now on tour with his Puppets and it just so happens that my town was one stop on his tour. He would be appearing at Saenger Theater tomorrow night.

The town of New Orleans, Louisiana, has seen it's fair share of Puppet shows but none of them compare to Vladimir. There's a certain...feel to his shows, less humor, and more creep factor. After all, I do love suspense and mystery. I always wondered how he made his Puppets look so real. He always picked an audience member or two to volunteer for his last act (lucky bastards) and the way they moved was...haunting, mesmerizing. The painted faces of his "human" puppets looked so inhuman, almost dead-like in a way. He pulled the strings attached to their wrists, ankles, elbows and knees so gracefully and the story he told as he made them sway; it was entrancing.

I knew those tickets weren't cheap and my birthday was a month away. So, why did they get me tickets? My grades in school were always straight A's and I was on the Honor Roll and they always took me out to a nice dinner as a "Job well done" sort-of-thing, so it couldn't be the reason for the tickets. I guess it was up to me to find out... because I couldn't just leave it alone. I needed to know what was up.

Curiosity killed me, as it did the cat.

So, I bounded down the stairs and to the kitchen where my parents were eating lunch. We lived in the French Quarter in the Condo we rented, while expensive, it was perfect for my taste. It had it all. A rooftop with a pool and jacuzzi, which was my favorite place to hang out with my girlfriends Jenna, Cara, and Cleo. The view of the city below was fantastic and it made for a good place to people-watch. Okay, look at hot guys that "happen" to pass by their windows.

I wasn't a 'Peeping Tom.' I never stared at them if they were naked... I glanced... and then turned my gaze elsewhere. Nothing wrong with that. It isn't like people don't do it, they may not admit to watching some hot, toned guy, but they do. Everyone does. Everyone has a dirty secret. Watching hot guys were one of mine.

As I entered the kitchen and took a seat at the white granite island that separated our living room from our kitchen, I turned to my father who was busy stuffing his face with a grilled cheese sandwich, dripping cheese onto his plate instead of his black suit for once.

"I gotta ask, Dad. Why did you and Mom get tickets for me? Not that I'm not appreciative, but you know me. I need to know."

He chuckled softly and clapped a hand on my shoulder like a father-son type thing. Weird.

"How about you find out after the show? Right now I have to go to work."

Dad kissed my cheek and then made his way to the front door with his briefcase in hand. I turned to my Mom who was still flipping a sandwich on the stove and gave her a look, "Mom? Would you care to answer the question, please?"

She smiled, "If your father wants you to wait until after the show, then you need to wait until after you get home. He always has a reason for everything he does, you know that, darling."

I scoffed and folded my arms. This was totally unfair. Aren't I supposed have some sort of... "Adult Privileges" or something now?

"I'm eighteen now. I shouldn't be treated like a child anymore, Mom."