The Puppet Master

As promised; they went out for dinner the following day.

It was only to the local pub, not exactly high quality but it was good enough, and was more or less the place where most villagers ate when they went out, which meant that you would always see someone you knew there.

That day it seemed particularly busy, and Josh's father had spotted some of his friends sitting on the table behind them, and proceeded to converse with them; leaving Josh alone and swirling his ketchup on his plate absentmindedly.

After minutes of awkward silence (he wasn't sure how it had happened, he didn't exactly have anyone to have an awkward silence with), he got up and sought refuge in the bathroom.

After a couple of minutes of awkwardly standing in the toilets washing his hands for ages, he decided to look up and into the mirror and fix his hair. A figure standing behind made him jump, a man, however his relief was short-lived as he noted that the man was acting in a strange manner. He made no attempt to move; just staying silent and gazing at Josh in a predatory way.

Josh immediately swirled round; holding onto the sink for support. A twisted smile manifested on his face, it hung shadows on it making him look rather demonic. His limbs started in jagged movements. It was almost if they were being tugged and moved by strings. Like a puppet.

Josh gasped, his hands searching wildly around him for some sort of protection: he had never really thought about when he was going to be ready to die; but now was undoubtedly not the time.

When he came up unlucky, the man made a swing at him, clipping only part of his shoulder but with enough strength for pain to flare up in his wounded area. Josh stumbled. The man's foot made contact with his stomach, resulting in a horrible 'thwack' sound. Josh crumpled. The strength pulsing through the man's limbs' seemed almost inhuman.

The floor was blurring; and now he thought about it so was everything else in the room. Even the person who ran in at his aid and was currently fighting his attacker was too hazy to see correctly. Suddenly a loud clatter sounded, and people were screaming and what looked like flocks of people were now crowded in the bathroom, attempting to contain his attacker.

A person was shaking him; it felt like his stomach had been split apart and the acid was burning the whole lower half of his torso. He wanted to push them away and yell at them to stop but his body was being unresponsive.

It was all dimming, and the screams of anguish were becoming obscurer and more distant until blackness was all that registered.

*************************************

He felt like he was waking up in a movie; you know, one of those where someone's been in an accident and the first thing they wake up to is the obnoxious beeping of machines and white hospital walls.

As he stirred he was vaguely aware of the searing ache in his stomach and the pain in his eyes now squeezed shut from the lighting being too overwhelming.

"Josh?"

He was only able to grumble in response; his throat being parched and inadequate to make coherent words. He balled his hands into fists, and slowly opened his eyes.

At first it was all undistinguishable faces and white, white and more white. He felt sick. White was a hard thing to wake up to when you have been immersed in the black.

"It's good to see you're awak- Hey, can you see me?" Two hands seized his shoulders, shaking him slightly and then a shrill nurse hissed at the owner of the hands not to shake the patients.

At first it just seemed like an old guy that was familia- oh wait, that was his father.

"Uhh, y-yeah?" His word was almost too muffled by the hoarseness to understand.

"Goddammit Josh, you had me worried. You leave to go to the toilet and the next thing I know that recluse that lives opposite us in pulling some guy off of your beaten body and you were passed out." His father's voice broke too many times in that minute speech to be considered manly, but hell he had just seen his son be the victim of one of the attacks by youths.

"Um, Dad, was it, you know, um, one of the attacks?" Josh asked hesitantly, his father already had enough stress as it was. The grave, watering eyes of his father looked into his.

"I'm afraid so. Paul, you know Mrs. Martindale's son? He claimed he had no memory of attacking you, he looked so concerned and he is honestly a good kid, god knows what possessed him to do that. That's why they want to talk to you, Josh, get some clues so they can continue the investigation." His father nodded towards the police officers he had not noticed in the corner of the room, discussing rapidly and frequently shooting looks at me.

"Okay." He nodded, and gave the permission for his father to leave him with the police officers that were going to interrogate the fuck out of him. He watched them walk over to his hospital bed, mentally preparing himself for the repetitive questions to commence and the false 'we are so concerned' expressions to be worn on their faces. They didn't care about him, a tiny pawn in the puzzle; they cared about catching the person in charge of the gang they are now suspecting exists.

"Joshua, we are the police and we are here to inquire on the recent attack you have fallen victim to. Is that alright if you answer some of our questions?"

Josh nodded.

"Excellent. Could you recall the event, please, in as much detail as you can remember?"

Josh nodded again before saying:

"I don't really know what happened. One minute I was just washing my hands and then I looked in the mirror and someone was standing behind me. So, I turned round, and h-...he."

Both police officers looked up at his obvious distress, one of them then uttered in a fake caring tone. "He did what?"

"He smiled. But i- it wasn't natural. It was twisted and predatory and there were so many shadows; so many." It was at that point that Josh realized he was rambling, and probably looked like a delusion idiot.

"And what else did he do?"
"He just swung at me; he just grazed my shoulder but the strength made it feel broken. The strength he possessed seemed inhuman, especially for a skinny kid like Paul. Then he kicked me and everything went fuzzy and I blacked out."
"Did he say anything at all?"
"No. But there was something odd that I noticed."
"What was that?"
"He moved strangely."
"Define strangely?"
"Like a puppet."