Marionette

WARNING: mentions of anxiety, paranoia, and character death.

The house stands on the extensive flat land, by the dusty old road disappearing into the horizon where the hard blue skies with the cleanest air of Kansas meet the earth. The land is dry, cracked and dead, the view is formidably vast; horses resting inside the fence hide from the heat of summer under the shadow of the stables, herds of cattle graze on the lands of dry grass left from spring dispersed far from the main house but not far enough to get lost. Lawrence is known by travellers passing through Kansas to reach their destination only, they are left in awe at the remaining western buildings not seen in large cities.

There is a dog barking at nothing, standing on the old wooden boards of the porch of the main house, he stands still for a moment before disappearing into the stable to meet its master, a hirsute young boy of age twelve; he carries book in his hands that his grandmother gifted him, and a pair of high-heeled boots with pointed toes on his feet. The dog waits patiently for the boy to notice him, but he is solely focused on the stories feeding his imagination, so the dog barks twice and only then does the boy see the animal expecting his attention.

"Sorry, Harley, didn't see you there." The boy kneels to pet him, holding the book under his arm. "Are you hungry yet? I think you deserve a snack. Come on, let's go inside the house." Harley follows the boy into the house, where the aroma of cinnamon and apples fills the room.

Another boy of age sixteen sits by the unlit chimney contemplating the world around him, he holds a marionette in his hands idly pulling at the cuffs of the blouse it wears. He knows the story, knows the object is foreign and cursed but the curiosity attracts him. Castiel, or 'Cas', as the boy calls it, is an old marionette carved from Tilia, and varnished with a honey colour that gives it a fine glow, it wears a small hat on its head to cover the dark hair said to be from human scalp, a sailor-boy blouse, blue pants that match the colour of its eyes, and shoes; it fascinates at first sight until the story of its source is told. It came to be a myth, a bedtime story for those who had been around during the years of pain, desperation, starvation and loss of hope; The Great Depression.

~1930s~

The Novak family is composed of seven members; Amelia, the mother, James, the father, Michael, the oldest son, Lucian, the second oldest son, Anna, the only daughter, Gabriel and Castiel, the twins. These are the days of dying, the days one wishes to have never been born than have born and lived for nothing; thousands die only to be replaced by others and the problem only increases. The lands are dry, life is dead, mothers pray to have a bite of bread to give their children, and Amelia is no exception; everything in the house is gone, the cattle have starved and died or have been eaten by wild animals hunting at night, the chickens are all gone, the apple trees have ceased to give its fruit, the land refuses to grow wheat, or barley, or corn, or legumes, or any other thing. Daytime is harsh, and Gabriel is ill, the dust has collected in his lungs for far more than it should have; he lies in bed waiting for his day to come, and the stubborn boy Castiel refuses to leave his side. It is only a matter of time before one or the other joins him; they pray in silence to a divine Being for a little mercy, except Lucian. He says, 'if life is worth keeping why does God not help the damned on earth?' He would undoubtedly replace his sibling if it allowed the other to live, but what is a wish.

He used to imagine life was a pleasant ride on a train going to the big cities; one is amazed by the sights along the way, the things not seen in small places like the one he'd always known, they are incredible wonders men created with a divine guidance. But that was before he lost faith, the train wrecked somewhere in the desert, and the passengers have all died. He imagined his mother sitting across from him with her books, his father conversing with other gentlemen, Lucian and Michael quarrelling as they always did, Anna isolating herself from the family lost in her own fantasies, and Gabriel pulling his hair, stealing his diary or drinking his tea - it was a journey for only them. To experience the innocence of life. Castiel could almost taste death on the tip of his tongue; after Gabriel had abandoned him he asked Anna to place him by his brother's side and leave their beloved golden box of adventures between them to share. The flame weakens as darkness thickens, the intensity of the pain increases with each second, stronger, stronger, stronger, then ceases. All is gone, all is lost, all is faded and their lives' the cost.

The mental balance of Amelia decreases after the death of her sons; there is a small cross buried on the ground next to a smaller one carved from an old tree branch fallen from the apple trees on the fields. James witnesses in silence as she treasures the hairs of Castiel in a wooden box, and locks herself in the boys' room. The ramshackle barn far from the house has been abandoned for months now, the roof is perforated by branches that fell upon it, the doors creak loudly, the dust enters from every fissure of the wooden boards, the heat is unbearable and it becomes her preferred place to be apart from the rest of the world. She carves slowly each limb, each finger, each inch of the body until her hands bleed, and even then she does not stop until it has been done. The clothes it wears belong to an infant Gabriel, the hair of Castiel and his shoes.

~1993~

"Dean, throw it away, it's creepy!" Sam stands by the door watching as his brother searches through a dusty and forgotten chest in the attic. The Campbells had purchased the land years after the Novak's misfortune; the house was falling apart and Samuel Campbell rebuilt it with his own hands. No one ever searched in the attic, never truly cared for what hidden objects remained in that obscure place, nor did they believe the haunting was real.

"No, I like it." he examines the marionette from every angle, noticing the perfection of its condition. A locket is hidden behind the collar of the sailor boy blouse, an oval locket with two ancient photographs of two strangers; he is fascinated by the mystery.

"What is that?" the younger boy narrows his eyes at the object in the other's hands.

"I don't know, it says, 'Castiel'." He frowns. "I think that's his name." he holds the marionette closer to him. Sam still stands by the door in silence noticing the smile formed on his brother's lips, a smile rarely seen on that worn out face.

The ground swallows the sun like a glutton, leaving nothing but darkness; the child sleeps for the first time in months after countless restless nights of horrid dreams invading his mind. Paranoia envelops him, distracts him, makes him suffer; anxiety He holds Castiel against his chest; some dreams are of him staring out the window at the sceneries, the locomotive travels at a great speed for long distances, it never stops, it never rests, it never slows down. Sam sits next to him with a book in his hands, sometimes it is the same book, sometimes it isn't familiar. He never enjoyed the taste of tea, but in his dreams it pleases his palate, the feeling of the warm liquid travelling down his throat only to warm his body from head to toe. It is a beautiful thing to be so alive.

~1995~

Sleep silently, sweet child, sleep serene for dreams become soon only a memory of false reality. Who is the child by your side calling your name? Sleep, dear, you have been watched from afar and it guides you. The day you stood so high, you were falling, you were falling and he saved you. Sleep, child, sleep. Dream your dreams you can not hide from me. Dream! Dream! Dream!

"Dean!" He gasps for air feeling his lungs compress, his body trembles, the speed of his heart beat quickens, and sleep has escaped him again. Sam stands by his side resting his hand on the other boy's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm- I'm fine." he shakes his head as his vision clears; the accelerated thump does not stop, he feels the perturbation increases, he looks to the right, looks to the left, under the covers, under the pillow and under his bed but nothing. "Where's Cas? What did you do to Cas?" he grips Sam's collar pulling him to his level.

"Calm down! I don't have him." he struggles to release himself from his brother's grip yet the other is far too strong.

"Give him to me!" the veins on his hands are visible from the force he uses against Sam.

"Dean, that's not healthy! It's a creepy doll and you're too old for it."

"It's a marionette and that's none of your business!"

"You're socially anxious and have not friends, it's not normal!" his chest heaves furiously as Dean stares at him with anger; Sam regrets his words.

"I don't need friends, I don't care to be normal, I just want Cas." he releases the collar from his brother's shirt and stares at his hands now resting on his legs. "Please give him back."

"I can't." his brows furrow, "I can't give him back, Dean." he gives a step back clenching his fists at his sides.

"Can't or won't?" he dangles his feet off the bed.

"Can't. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Dean, I threw Cas in the fireplace." Dean hears the sound of his heart beat in his chest loud then louder as it breaks.

The voice of Castiel is gone, the last remains of him are ashes on ashes; Dean's only friend has died after his death. Though he remembers the day he first dreamt of a stranger calling his name, a familiar apparition that seemed distant- far from a touch, far from reality yet so real. He had eased the pain from the boy, had fixed his nightmares, had made a friend of him- he realised, it wasn't the marionette, it wasn't the piece of wood he held tightly in his arms for so long; it was a spirit that followed him, the spirit of a child who was just as lost as Dean Winchester. And for the second time, Castiel had lost his only family.