AN: Matt and Mello are...together in the story. Mello and Near are just... ummm... how to phrase this... On and off best friends...
I only own the story of the Marionette and the two peoms in there.
Marionette, what do you see?
"Marionette, what did you hear? The screaming, or the crying, of a child held dear?
Little dolly, what did you dream? The pounding, or the bleeding, of the body left unseen?
Marionette, what did you see? The murder, or the mutilation? The cackling beast, or the begging mother? The frightened baby? The dieing child.
Marionette, why would you do that? The aunty of the child, the sister, the mother... What has happened, to the childhood innocence?
The innocence of the child, so easily destroyed. The toy, she so loved, was the toy that ended her life.
The strings controlling, the strings attached. The kind smile, the evil eyes.
She loved it so much, yet it hated her. A deep hatred, unexpected of a toy that received so much love.
A cold December day, is when it started. Aunty May had come to visit. Had come to see, had come to hear. Love given, love received... Or so they all thought.
Beady eyes trailed after her in the room of the happy child. It scared her, and made her blood run cold.
Days and nights, so very cold nights, passed while the puppet plotted. A plan conceived, and a plan put into action.
A pentacle drawn, across the room. Aunty May in the middle, poisoned, and ready to die. Latin words chanted, killing the body, releasing the soul. The body moved no longer on its own will.
Veins extracted created makeshift strings. Blood from the corners of the mouth gave her a puppet look. Eyes empty, seeing no more. The puppeteer was the puppet himself. Little Puppet Cain, Annie's favorite, most beloved treasure.
The strings shifted, as the lighting flashed. The eyes of a woman no longer alive. A hatchet in one hand, a hammer in the other. The puppeteer controlled the movements, making her close up on the sleeping child. Thunder crashed, and rain pelted the windows.
Thumping awoke the sleeping child. She looked to her aunt, unaware that she had died, or the puppeteer controlling the murder. The child smiled her radiant smile, and greeted her aunt. When no smile was returned, when no words were exchanged, she grew frightened.
An evil cackle, and she screamed. A hammer to the head, ended her shrill yell for help. Another blow, a bit too hard, and the hammer went through. Blood splattered against the walls and bed, brain surrounding her slightly.
The hatchet was brought down, and the head was cut off. Blood ran to the door, and out the hall.
Another cackle, as the body was disposed off. Several pieces gone, scattered around the house. The head remained in the room, along with dead Aunty May.
The family came in, to see the head of their beloved daughter, the beloved sister...
The mother unsuccessfully begged, for it all to be a dream. To no avail.
The body never found. Only bits and pieces. The beloved child, mutilated and beaten. The cackle in the night, the last thing heard, as the family was burned.
Little Marionette Cain, why would you do that? Kill your owner, that gave so much love? Kill the child, of pure heart? Murder the child, of only 5? Use the heart, so weak and caring, to play your murderous game... The monster created, the monster was born. The monster left, creeping to the next angel."
Mello finished the story to find Matt and Near huddling close.
"Mello!" Matt whined, "That was scary!"
"Shut up you big baby!" Mello scolded while he kissed his cheek and hugged a scared Near.
"Fine." Matt pouted, "Can you at least read another?"
AN: I wonder if that made any sense...