Invasion of the Puppet People

I ran down the street, chased by the pale lights and fear. I turned a corner, but there they were. Six of them, moving thanks to invisible strings, frantically out of sync with human rhythm, familiar in their fleshiness, but alien in their objectness.

I almost fall down doing a tumble thing to change direction and ran towards a chain-link fence. They were closing in from all sides, those murder puppets with knives and claws. Immobile faces, expressionless eyes, blank stares.

I climbed and tried not to look back. Finally, after and endless second, I was on the other side. I fell to the tarmac, still warm from the day’s sun, probably will never be warm again. I scraped forward, clambered to get up and run further, into the vacant parking lot.

They leaped over the fence aided by the invisible puppet masters and were almost on me. I managed to break a door in and found myself in the dark. I continued onwards into the blackness. I knew I could never be seen outside again. Luckily, the building swallowed me without complaint.

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