I do not own d gray man. All characters are copyright of Katsura Hoshino.
It's a ONe Shot it's really short though. i just thought of it right now. Write how you like it. As well it has alot of metaphors. Try and figure them out.
Hello, young dear gentleman and madams. Welcome to the play. The actors are ready. Everything is set. All we need are our puppets.
A grinning man with spectacles near his nose conducts the play. The actors move with grace and dignity, as they leap and run to accomplish there intent. They, moving in sequence with each other they move.
The puppeteer is above the stage gazing along the shiny surfaces of the hard wood theatre. He grins with delight. Tonight he will shine. Not himself in particular but the blocks of human flesh he has taken control of.
The puppeteers hair will wave from side to side as he runs to and fro with his puppet he has created from his own flesh and blood. He will have accomplished what he was sent to do on the hardwood floor in the theatre.
His job is to set the play in a motion regular actors are unable to accomplish. The puppets slack, rise with the flick of the string, as they move emotionlessly on the hardwood floor of the maculate theatre.
There are many more behind the scene standing on watch by the puppeteer to go out but only one is there. He runs and flips, and attempts to right everything that has been wrong.
The lights in the back dim, the lights in the front open. The story rolls in a timeless event.
The gentlemen and madams ooh and ah at the wonderful sights before them, not caring of the effort and time taken to construct the puppets of flesh. There is the sad beginning. The narrator; and image of a large man with spectacles and a never-ending grins starts his story which is the play.
The story of the actors of good to destroy evil, as evil itself as risen and is stronger by the coming of many years, retorts the narrator, as he stands hidden from the view of the audience.
Tonight perhaps the crowd will laugh at the displacement of that one puppet which is made out of flesh. As the puppeteer above him cries with happiness, and sadness, at the puppet's ordeal.
At the end of it all the puppets are laid down to rest for another night of entertaining. But soon they will all crumble, as they are only puppets made out of flesh.
But that lone puppet will cry for never being able to crush those strings and doubts, which held him there.