I woke up and it was there in the corner of my room. It's wooden features staring me right in the eyes. It's face paint almost clown like. Just smiling. It was holding a box in its hands with a small brass handle. As I reached for my phone to call for help, it grabbed the handle in a swift motion and began to turn the handle. It seemed to become happier as the song went on. When I expected it to end it just continued. I lifted my phone up to take a photo, but it had disappeared. I felt alone, I felt as if something was coming to get me. An hour passed and nothing happened so I decided to fall back to sleep.
I awoke with a start. I checked the corner. Nothing. I led back and stared at the ceiling and there it was, smile larger than ever.
"Half a pound of tuppeny rice, half a pound of treacle, that's the way the money goes, pop goes the weasel."
This was the first time that I heard the puppet sing. It was a soft, reassuring sort of voice. The expression of the puppet suddenly changed to a saddened one. I looked into its eyes and they seemed to sink into the back of its head. I hadn't noticed the scratch marks on it until now. They looked like ones inflicted by a sharp object. The puppet noticed me looking at the scratches and said "I was a naughty puppet, my owner told me so," it said almost disgraced.
I didn't dare speak. He looked at me again, this time with the same smile as he had before, only it looked more sinister.
"But I got my own back," he said with a small wooden chuckle. He then began to sing.
"Cornered my master in his study,
He said I was pure evil,
I grabbed his head and squeezed it tight..." he paused for a minute and released an almost human laugh.
The puppet then dropped into my lap. As I sat up to throw it away, it had gone. All that was left was a small note. "Pop went the weasel."
