Thomas Pathey is a french youngster, which has been in Lisbon during the month of June 2019 for an Erasmus+ internship in the "Lua Cheia - teatro para todos". His dream is to become a writer. Here it is one of his texts:
It's dark, so dark I can barely see my own hands. I've been in this closet for god knows how long. I have my two brothers at my side, and we're just gathering dust. This place sucks. How long has it been since we last saw the light ? What is the meaning of life ? Such are questions I would ask myself if I had a concept of sentience and life, but I'm just a puppet, stuck in there with my puppet bros, waiting for the day that we are needed. My arms hurt, my feet hurt, but my expression is the same. I can't scream, I can't move. Is this Hell ? Am I dead ? Again, I don't care, I'm not human. Is there a puppet hell though ? What would be in that puppet hell ? Is there a puppet God somewhere up there literally and metaphorically pulling the strings in our puppet existences ? What can I do to get into puppet heaven, and what is there ? I hope our fourth brother is up there, we haven't seen him since his arms got ripped out by a child. I miss him, this closet sucks. Is this what my existence amounts to ? Sit in a closet and doing nothing until someone needs me and then being dragged out, waggled about and thrown away until the next time ? What about me ? I have needs too, I might not have a puppet wife or puppet kids but still, I mean, come on!
Suddenly, a light. A hand pulls me out, sits me on a chair, and soon after, my brothers followed. I'd breathe a sigh of relief if I had the ability to breathe. The two usual ladies that I like to think are my moms are here, as always, but this time there's a third person. It's a man, and I cannot understand a word he says. When they speak to him, they're unintelligible too, it's like a disease that is spreading. I hope it doesn't reach me or my brothers, how would we communicate then ? Oh, nevermind, we're puppets, we have no ability to communicate anyway, but it would still suck. My moms are leaving us alone with this guy, who even is he ? He starts lifting my arm, and putting it on the table, at this point I was scared for my non-life. What was he going to do, chop it off ? Cut me open ? Again, I'd beg for mercy if I had a way to communicate, or a concept of mercy, but I had no other option other than sitting there, powerless, at the hand of a person I did not even understand. Is he even a person ? Maybe he's the puppet god, shoot, quick, how do I worship him ? Do I bow, do I say a prayer ? I can't do any of that ? What if this is a test and I'm not getting into puppet heaven ? My frantic thinking was interrupted when he started tending to my wounds. It felt really good. Finally my injuries were being treated ! Where has this guy been all along ? Thank you puppet god ! I haven't felt this alive in so long, and again, I am very much not alive. I don't know what he was saying, but he sounded angry though. Did I do something wrong ? O puppet god, please spare me your wrath ! I have been unfaithful to you but I shall make it up somehow ! It really felt like he didn't want to be here, the puppet god was muttering to himself while healing me, which is like, please keep saving me but maybe don't look like you want to murder me ? Once he was done with me, he put me back on the chair and moved on to my brothers, who I imagine were also very glad to be rescued, even though I have never communicated with them nor did I know whether or not they were my actual brothers, we're just in the same place at the same time, withering away.
I had time to think now. What do I even remember ? How long have I existed for ? It feels like every time I leave the closet, I can never remember what happened before. Have I been here forever, or are my memories fabricated ? Am I conscious, or is this an illusion ? The glue did look pretty toxic, so I'm not ruling out hallucinations at this point. The light is nice, I can see my surroundings for once. Not much has changed since the last time, although the situation does seem eerily familiar. The puppet god finished taking care of my first brother and sat him in the chair next to mine. He made my brother face me, which was a nice touch. I always imagine us having a nice conversation whenever we can see each other. I'd ask him about his day, he wouldn't respond because he's a puppet and is unable to communicate, I would laugh and ask him if he wanted to grab a coffee, he wouldn't respond because he's a puppet and is unable to communicate, I'd tell him that I have a pretty busy day anyway and better be going, he wouldn't respond because he's a puppet and is unable to communicate. Ah, the very fond memories of those times ! Or maybe these aren't memories, just echoes of conscience, slowly fading away. Who knows, I'm just a puppet. Hey, what's that on my hand ? It feels like something is written on them, something I don't remember seeing before. If only I could just turn my hands around... Ugh, stupid puppet existence ! Who cares, the puppet god probably wrote a bad recommendation for me, so I'd go to puppet hell. Screw you too, puppet god, I'm not scared of you!
I guessed he was done with his work, since he summoned my moms back, who stared and my brothers and I's wounds, then spoke to him in the same unintelligible language, probably the language only true worshippers can speak, but at least they sounded happy. The puppet god picked one of my brothers up and put him back in the closet, one of my moms picked my other brother and put him back in too. Oh god, I don't wanna go ! Please don't make me go back in there... I feel a hand lifting me up, I give up. This is my existence. It's always going to be that way, isn't it ? Wait, I can see my hands now, something's written on it, I can definitely see it now !
"you are alive, wake up !!! please remember this, you have to remember!"
What does that mean ? Did I write this for myself ? What's going on ? I'm starting to feel dizzy, I can barely remember where I was a second ago, I can't... I can't... I can't see.
It's dark, so dark I can barely see my own hands. I've been in this closet for god knows how long. I have my two brothers at my side, and we're just gathering dust.
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