M A R I O N E T T E
aokubi daikon
p r o l o g u e
It is almost time, he notes as he looks at the digital watch turn to 7:53 PM.
He attempts to calm his nerves, after all, it is not his first time around here. His mouth is parched so much that he feels like he's grating sandpaper against sandpaper. With a steady determination and well thought out plans, he was going to go in for the kill just as soon as he got his cue. He feels confident about the task that lays ahead.
A block of stone moves and the dark shadow acts on the cue and slips inside. The evidence of his presence is swallowed by the groan of the closing passageway. Even if trees could talk, none would dare speak his name.
He moves with agility through the dirt tunnel; a small flashlight guiding his next steps.
I've come this far… With nimble and eager fingers, he slips a black canister into an awaiting compartment. There was no suffocating suspense or anticipation clutching wildly at the air, instead it seemed to simmer down in defeat. There was no stopping this.
Just as silently as had he slipped in, he was out and gone in a wisp of smoke.
There was no stopping this.