Puppetry - P.JM. [ON-HOLD]

Nine

I exited the restaurant, fixating my bag on my back. I felt a small smile on my face, my feeling of sorrow and regret gone for the moment. My head was only dull with pain, which was good. I hoped it was getting better so Taehyung would stop bugging me about it. It usually would slowly get better on its own, but it took forever to do so.

The hot sun hit my head, my arms instantly warming from underneath my red long sleeves. I had grown to understand the sun with my clothing, my body adapting to my surroundings. I always wore long shirts now, hiding my skin. I tried to keep as modest as possible. I always had, but it somehow didn't block out people's opinions about me.

I started walking along the side of the street, carriages and the few cars that passed time to time lazily operating in the middle of it. The sound of people talking and the clacks of horses and the screams of children filled my ears, reminding me of my home. This was my home in my heart.

After my mother was gone, my father moved him and I to the center of the city. There was more job opportunities, more for fortune to be brought to our household. I was only four years old then. Coming into the city shocked me, but time grew, the days of watching all the children playing and laughing were stuck in my memories. 

I never played with the children. I found no joy in talking to people. My father had been so educated, that talking to others that weren't him or his enlightment level made the world sound dumb. He had educated me so much that I didn't like playing with the other children. They all whispered about how weird I was, drawing with the ink stick on my father's old notebook, but I didn't seem to care.

Being put into that school when I was younger brought me happiness. I learned more, being surrounded by more higher level enlightments, all of them filled with knowledge. They all taught me things, all of them accepting. That was where I felt the most at home besides with being with my father.

Now walking along the same streets I had been for the past sixteen years of my life, memories faded in and out, my eyes flickering over to some mothers gathered at a door, talking with babies in hand. Small children played near the horses, daring to see if there would be harm, people talking at vender posts about jewelry, fruits, rare items. The chaos of the streets were filled with the beauty I had learned to love.

Something suddenly hit my leg lightly, a little squeak coming from something. My feet stopped, my curious eyes turning down to see what was there. 

A little girl sat down at my feet, her blue eyes staring up at me, wide and innocent. She wore an black dress, held down at her waist, wrists, and held to her neck gently. It went down past her knees but not to her feet. Her little feet were bare, dirt covering them. Looking at her face, she had an innocent look, brown hair falling into her eyes. She looked around five, but she was a tiny thing. I smiled down at her gently.

"You need to look where you're going, sweetie," I said, stooping down, grabbing onto the small girl and pulling her to her feet. She stilled stared up at me.

The dress kept standing out to me. She was an Enlightain, obviously following along her parents' religion. With her hair down and a black dress that was very modest, her parents took being Enlightains very seriously. She seemed young enough that she had no opinion about it yet, though. If it was an eleven year old, they would be spitting out religion about my appearance and possibly why I was talking to them because I would be a "lowlife" to them.

I looked up from the small girl for a second, realizing a crowd of children gathering around me, obviously curious. They were all Enlightains, black clothes covering up as much skin as they could. They didn't seem to find me a threat, their eyes wide as they stared at me.

"Are you the puppet girl?" the little girl said from below me. I turned my eyes to look back over to her, her hands clasped behind her back.

I felt my expression fall a bit. These children had heard about me. I suddenly felt self conscious about what they thought of myself, what their parents had told them. "I am."