The Morning air was cold upon De'aran’s bare arms and hooves, wet snow clumping beneath them as they walked. De'aran was alone on the outskirts of their little town, exiled for their appearance.

“It will bring demons to our homes,” the townspeople would say, “it will eat our babies!” 

And so, De’aran was shooed into the cold, no inn would take them, no barn, nor porch, so they sat in the cold, wishing for warmth and food, a loving family, and a bed. Instead, they huddled under trees and bushes shivering and alone.

The sound of snow crunching behind them caused De’aran to stop. Did they finally decide to come and kill me? De'aran thought. Then out of the bushes stepped a man. He was tall, about six or seven feet, and wore a suit of blackish-purple and red striped velvet with a large black top hat. His face was gaunt with black circles where his eyes should have been and a smile that looked stitched on and painful.

“Hello, little one!” the man spoke in a voice that was calming, “what marvelous features you have! I am the Puppet Master, who might you be?”

De’aran cautiously spoke up, their voice barely above a whisper, “De’aran, but they all call me a monster.” The Puppet Master looked down at the child’s legs. They were like those of a deer or goat, covered in tawny fur that glistened in the snow. 

“Do you believe them?” asked the Puppet master, “I do not.”

De’aran looked at the ground and said, “Sometimes I do.” A look of shame spread across their face.

The Puppet Master kneeled to De’aran, “Do not be ashamed my child for I used to be ashamed of my visage and I quickly learned that if you go through life with a smile on your face and a chipper attitude nothing is as bad as it seems.”

“Really?” asked De’aran, “Is it ok for me to be happy?” their face lit up with hope at the disfigured man.

“Of course, my child! Why don’t you come back with me to my humble home, we can drink and laugh and have a jolly old time!”

De’aran smiled, “Okay!” The strange child with the deer-like legs and the old man with the grotesque face got up and walked away from the outskirts of the tiny little town, and into the snow-frosted woods.

De’aran had never gone deeper into the woods before, he remembered the rumors of dangerous animals, birds that could swallow you whole, and ghosts that kill children. It was said that no child that entered these woods returned. It was said that the trees ate the birds that sat upon them and that they moved.

As the Puppet Master and De’aran trudged on through the woods, less and less snow crunched below their feet and hooves until all that could be heard was the soft crunching and squashing of dead leaves and pinecones. De’aran looked up and saw that the trees had grown so close that they blacked out the sun. It was as though the forest was attempting to swallow them whole.

They finally stopped in front of a small shack, with more leaves and dirt than wood, with bars for windows and a door made of a large slab of bark.

“Welcome to my humble abode!” the Puppet Master gleefully cried, “it isn’t much but I’m sure it’s better than sleeping out in the snow.”

De’aran cautiously opened the door and stepped inside. The inside of the house was just as dirty as the outside but much larger than expected. The main room was full of old dusty sofas and old coffee tables. The only clean thing in the room was a surprisingly detailed puppet of a woman. Her skin was pale as snow, her eyes a stormy gray, her hair was long and crimson like blood from a wound. She wore a purple gown that accentuated her thin frame and gave her the look of an ethereal goddess

“Ah yes, that is Natasha. In life, she was a wonderful girl, but when she got Pneumonia I knew she could not be nursed back to health so I made this puppet of her as a companion for me and a reminder of my failures.” The Puppet Master looked down, his fingers running through his hair, his top hat in his other hand.

De’aran shuffled closer to the Puppet Master and patted him on the back, “Sir, you didn’t fail, I’m sure you tried your hardest to save her, I’m sure she loves you.” The small child looked up at the Puppet Master and gave him an earnest smile. 

“Thank you, my friend,” said the Puppet Master with a look of reminiscing on his face, “now, let us go get your room ready.” they both walked through one of the doorways and went down the long, dark, dirty hallway to a small room with a bed. The whole room was filled with puppets, all extremely detailed and all exactly like real human beings.

“Please excuse the mess,” said the Puppet Master, “I wasn’t expecting to have company.”

“It’s ok mister, it’s better than sleeping on the ground in the snow!” De’aran exclaimed, “I get a real bed now!” The little kid ran through the room and 

picked up one of the puppets. It was a little boy with green overalls and a white shirt. “May I have this puppet Mister?” De’aran looked up at the Puppet Master with their big deer-like eyes.

“Of course you can! You can have anything in this room!” The Puppet Master gestured outwards toward the room full of puppets. The Puppet Master looked out the window and said, “it’s starting to get dark outside. Shall we eat supper?”

De’aran nodded and they exited the small bedroom full of puppets. The Puppet Master walked back out of the long hallway, through the main room, and back through another long hallway. They ended up in a large room with a long table. There were bowls full of fruit and vegetables, plates full of meats and bread and cheeses, and a pitcher full of wine. 

“Please, dig in!” De’aran slowly trodded towards the food, they grabbed a large chunk of pork off a plate, and a persimmon, and proceeded to eat. The meat was heavenly, the perfect balance of spices and fats, it almost melted in their mouth, the persimmon was fresh and fruity. De’aran ate and ate until they were full and then proceeded to toddle off to bed.

“Good night De’aran!” said the Puppet Master, “sleep well.”

De’aran layed down in their bed and began to dream. 

In their dream, De’aran stood in a large empty room, in front of them, Natasha, the boy in the green overalls, and another girl stood. But they weren’t standing. They were hanging like puppets on strings, arms and heads limp, their feet barely resting on the ground.

Suddenly, they all brought their heads up. Instead of the happy smiles they had as puppets in the real world, they looked terrified and demented.

First spoke Natasha, “When I was young, I was led into the woods by a man called ‘The Puppet Master’. He told me I was beautiful, he told me that it was no wonder people cherished me for I was lovely, divine even. He led me to his home and stuffed me full of delicious foods and the finest of wines. I went to sleep in the room full of puppets and never awoke!”

Then spoke the boy in green overalls, “I was playing ball with my friends and it rolled far into the forest. I ran in to get it and was dragged to his home by my hair. HE SKINNED ME ALIVE AND LAUGHED AS I SCREEAAAAMMMEEEDDD!”

Last spoke the little girl, “I was with my family and got separated from them on a trip. The Puppet Master picked me up off the side of the road and carried me to his home. I thought he would nurse me to health, but no. The last thing I remember is being cut open in a dark room.”

“DO NOT TRUST HIM,” the puppets all spoke in a raspy voice, “DO NOT TRUST THE PUPPET MASTER!'' With that statement, De’aran jumped out of their bed. They needed to leave the house of that terrible man. The reason no one ever returned from the forest was because they got turned into puppets!

De’aran was running through the hall, desperately trying to find the way out but it seemed that the walls kept changing direction and getting closer and closer together. De’aran shrieked, something had grabbed their hair, the Puppet Master.

“NOO! NOO PLEASE!” screamed the small deer child.

“I am so terribly sorry,” the Puppet Master calmly said, “but you were just too interesting of a specimen to pass up.” With that, the Puppet Master put a piece of cloth over De’aran’s mouth and nose. The last thing that the little kid ever smelled was the sweet, citrusy, smell of chloroform.

The Puppet Master went to work, removing skin and fur and hair from bone and sinew and muscle, adding in stuffing and a wooden structure, and a cute little dress shirt with a bright blue and yellow striped tie. The deer child was a gorgeous puppet, with big blue eyes and little hooves instead of feet. The Demon would be happy.

You have done well, Puppet Master. The Demon spoke in his mind, I will reward you soon.

“Thank you, Master, Thank You!” the Puppet Master said relieved.

Suddenly, the ghosts of all the children he had made into puppets appeared.

“M-master?”

Your gift, Is death. The Demon cackled as the ghost children started ripping the Puppet Master apart. Blood and organs covered the entire home, it was as if the walls were bleeding and the puppets had gone to war.

They say that if you go to the edge of that small mountain village and walk through those woods, you can hear the sounds of children playing, hooves clip-clopping, and the ear splitting sound of a man begging for death.