Sapling of a Boy - Short Story

    Since everyone loved the idea of having my work uploaded on my blog, here's one of my favorite stories I've written! Let me know your thoughts! 

Sapling of a Boy

Jessikah Russell

The puppeteer stood in silence, staring at the night sky until spots of the stars burned dots into his retinas. Dread twisted his stomach as the wind thundered outside. His thoughts twirled with the gusts that rattled against the windows. He couldn’t help but feel disquiet, fearing for what lies ahead.

An alluring hum filled the room. The melody spun around him, dancing through the air like a ballerina stuck in a music box. As the delicate voice continued to get closer, the puppeteer tensed, feeling as though something tied a string to his spine, holding him at attention.

“Geppetto…” A whispered call brushed past his ear, followed by a warm breath that trickled down his neck, making Geppetto shiver. As he waited for the figure to make their next move, a cold, spindly hand gripped his shoulder. The air in his lungs ground to a halt. Geppetto squeezed his eyes shut as he shrunk away, hoping that whatever was in the room with him would vanish. However, the figure did not; it rose in front of the puppeteer and stood inhumanly still, like a toy soldier. Omniscient and disquieting, the figure waited for Geppetto to open his eyes.

In front of him stood a gangly but elegant woman, donned with a long azure gown. She was sickly thin with bones sticking out of her taught skin, yet accentuated her regality. Her empty sockets pierced through the puppeteer; their depths swirled and churned with malice. Her all-encompassing gaze gave him nowhere to hide. The moonlight made her pearlescent skin sparkle and spotlit her long golden locks. Geppetto focused on her long, skeletal hands clasped in front of her.

“Bring me the boy, Geppetto.” Her sullen voice contrasted her luxurious exterior. It left him a prisoner in his skin, unable to move, breathe, or think. “My patience is growing thin Geppetto. Would you rather I leave you with the broken body of your boy? The boy you oh so wished was your once jovial son? Waste my time and I won’t hesitate to curse you to a life far worse than it currently is.” With newfound panic, he ran out of the room and picked up the blanketed body he’d been avoiding since the accident. As soon as he stepped back into the room, the sickly woman motioned for him to set the body down.

“Please… bring him back to me… I don’t know what I’d do without my boy.” The puppeteer rested a hand on the blanketed body, silently praying to have his boy again, to hear his laughter once more, and see his goofy smile. He once again brought his eyes to the woman’s gaze. She nodded in contempt.

“Are you certain this is the vessel you want your boy to be housed in?” The woman motioned toward the limp wooden body of a puppet. Geppetto sat in silence for a moment. There wasn’t much else he could give her; that puppet was the first one he made for his son. It was made in his image, with each chip of the chisel overflowing with love for the boy.

“I made the puppet in his image, it’s the best vessel I could think of.”

“So, you’ve summoned me to put your son’s soul in this… toy?” The woman burned Geppetto with her gaze.

“Yes-” He squeaked out. “Please… bring him back to me.” 

The room began to glow a faint blue as the woman unclasped her bony hands. She pointed to the door. As he made his exit he couldn’t help but sigh with relief. Finally, he was getting his beloved boy back. As he made his way to his bedroom, Geppetto looked back at the room that housed the woman. The faint blue glow that shined through the cracks of the door brought a smile to his face. Soon. As he laid his head on his pillow, Geppetto went to sleep in bliss.

…

Outside his bedroom, he could hear little feet pattering against the hardwood floor. However, the typical sound of feet hitting hardwood was replaced with wood-on-wood blows. It sounded as if a little boy was running about with wooden clogs on his feet.

Excited to see his son again, he tossed his blankets aside and bounded up to his bedroom door. Once opened, the small wooden boy ran up to the puppeteer, shaking with excitement.

“Father! Father! I missed you!” He spread his twiggy arms wide, awaiting a loving embrace. Geppetto stooped down and embraced his small, hard frame. His body is so cold- Geppetto pushed the thought away. Nothing mattered to Geppetto in this moment though, apart from the fact that his son was back. His world was finally whole once more.

Once the puppeteer released the boy, he studied his handiwork. His once soft and fleshy skin was replaced with solid oak. The clean complexion his son had was now dotted with wood grain, the lines swirling around each of his limbs. He could see his son behind the puppet’s eyes. He was finally back and the puppeteer could barely hold in his joy.

“You ready for breakfast, my boy?” As soon as the words left Geppetto, the wood grain around Pinnochio’s mouth twisted up into an oaky grin. It looked as if the wooden boy had several mouths on his face with the little lines in the grain stretching out with his smile. Geppetto chuckled at the boy’s reaction.

The puppeteer grabbed a loaf of bread and some strawberry jam. He carefully sliced a few slices from the loaf and laid them out on a pan, quickly taking it over to the stove to toast. Pinocchio sat at the dining table, tapping his fingers in excitement. The boy was much more clumsy, trying to familiarize himself with his new form. It was as if a person who’d never maneuvered a puppet before had grabbed at the strings and swung the wooden doll around without a care in the world. 

Once the puppeteer spread the jam on the toasted bread, he brought two slices out to Pinocchio. The boy smiled at his father and started to devour the slices as Geppetto sat down at the table. At least one thing was still the same- that boy loved toast. After Pinocchio scarfed down the first slice of toast, he returned his gaze to the puppeteer.

“Father… could you get some grape jam the next time you go to the market?” 

Geppetto furrowed his brows. “But I thought strawberry jam was your favorite?”

“It was, but I want to try grape jam!” The wooden boy smiled that grainy grin at Geppetto, his wooden teeth sparkled from the puppeteer’s time spent methodically varnishing each tooth. This was an unusual request, Pinnochio had always loved strawberry jam. He once ate an entire jar and cried to him about having a stomachache. Yet, he still came back to Geppetto and asked for more. Maybe he just needed to get through a little adjustment period.

Geppetto returned his attention to his son. Within the few moments he spent in thought, the boy had finished the second piece of toast. Noticing that his son was becoming antsy he decided to bring out his toy box that he had stashed away. The boy leaped out of his seat as he saw his father dragging the wooden chest out of the living room closet. Stopping near the couch, the puppeteer heaved a sigh of relief as the boy eagerly slid on his knees to open the chest.

"Now, don't have too much fun while I'm finishing up breakfast." Pinocchio giggled at his father's request.

“I promise, I won't! Will you be able to join me when you're done, Papa?"

"We'll see..." The puppeteer ruffled Pinocchio's hair as he walked back to the kitchen. His new yarny hair that stuck to his timber head felt odd against his fingers. He could remember the boy’s old fluffy nest, but now his hand tingled after playing with the wooly fiber.

Will I ever get over this? Geppetto sighed to himself as he returned his attention to the kitchen. He plopped himself down at the table once more as he watched his son search through the chest, looking for the perfect toy to play with at that moment. The puppeteer nibbled on the cold toast he made earlier watching as Pinocchio grabbed one of his toys and crawled over to a new spot in the living room. However, Geppetto noticed that the boy was holding a different toy than his usual go-to. Pinocchio usually played with a small puppet that the puppeteer made for the boy. It was dressed in the image of a sales clerk, similar to one you'd see on the streets around their house. Pinocchio loved to pretend the puppet was running his very own store in town and would grab other puppets to play along as well. This time though, Pinocchio was playing with a puppet that was made in the image of a schoolboy. The puppeteer created it for his boy in hopes that he'd pretend to go to school. Yet, there used to be nothing that could deter his boy from playing with that salesman. Until now-

"Pinocchio, what are you doing?" The boy perked up at the sound of his father's voice.

"They're dancing, Papa! Look!" The boy smiled, stood up, and pranced around the living room, still holding the schoolboy.

"Dancing? What happened to you selling apples and bananas?" Geppetto made his way over to the chest, picking up the salesman.

"I wanted to dance, so we're dancing!" Pinocchio continued to laugh as the puppeteer tried to hand the boy the salesman puppet. Pinocchio ignored his dad as he continued to play with the schoolboy.

"Why won't you listen to me, Pinocchio? Why don't you play with the salesman like you used to?"

"I don't want to play with him, papa. Come dance with me!" Pinocchio tried to grab his father's hands to get him to dance with him. However, Geppetto just swatted the schoolboy puppet out of Pinocchio's hands. The boy looked up at the puppeteer confused. "Di- Did I do something wrong, Papa?" The boy's bottom lip quivered as he continued to look up at the puppeteer.

"What? N-No, Pinocchio. I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me. Here-" The puppeteer stooped down, picked up the schoolboy puppet, and handed it back to the boy. Pinocchio returned his cheerful smile to the puppeteer and immediately went back to playing as he was.

The puppeteer couldn't figure out why he was getting as upset as he was. His boy was still his boy, right? He's just... different.

After tucking the wooden boy in bed that night and leaving a kiss on his forehead, Geppetto sat for a moment in contemplation. He couldn’t shake the thought that even though his boy was back, everything just felt off. Not only was it hard to look at Pinocchio, he wasn't acting like he used to either.

The puppeteer tossed in his bed, unable to fall asleep with his thoughts running wild.

That boy just isn't the same anymore. What did that faerie do to him? As Geppetto closed his eyes, he fell asleep dreading the sun rising the next morning.

The puppeteer opened his eyes to his living room. Feeling a weight in his left hand, he looked down to see a bucket of water filled about halfway in his grasp. Confused, Geppetto looked around as he walked forward to the kitchen. The house was dimly lit, each of the bulbs seemingly on their last legs, surging as much light as they could muster before going out. Out of nowhere, a scream erupted from a different room causing the puppeteer to flinch.

"Pinocchio!" Geppetto ran through the hallway looking around for his boy, water sloshing from the bucket with each step he took. Once he got to the living room he stopped dead in his tracks.

Right in front of him laid a small thrashing body shrouded in flames. The scent of burning flesh and iron assaulted his nose as he realized that the body was his son. Without hesitation, the puppeteer dumped the water onto the boy, extinguishing the remaining flames. However after the sizzling stopped, Geppetto saw that the body stopped moving as well.

The puppeteer thrashed awake as he felt a small tap on his shoulder. He heard a wooden object clatter to the ground as a small whimper resounded from the floor. When the puppeteer opened his eyes, he saw his son lying on the floor, holding his elbow.

It was just a dream? Geppetto thought to himself.

"Papa?" The boy sniffled. "I'm sorry that I scared you... are you okay?" Geppetto's stomach dropped at the sight of his wooden son. Slowing his breathing, the puppeteer focused on his boy once more.

"Oh, Pinocchio- It's not your fault. Come here, I'm so sorry-" Geppetto motioned for the wooden boy to join him on the bed with him. He took the boy into his arms and held him for a moment. The fibers of the boy's hair tickled Geppetto's nose as he attempted to breathe in. Soon after a flash of his son's burning body flooded his mind and he jolted, pushing Pinocchio off the bed. The young puppet whined in pain as soon as he hit the floor. Not realizing what he did, the puppeteer shivered under the covers, wanting to forget his dream of a not-so-distant memory.

"Papa... what's wrong?" Pinocchio picked himself up and peered up over the edge of the bed. Geppetto furrowed his brows, not knowing what to say to his son. However, when he locked into the boy's gaze he shivered again. He couldn't stop thinking about his boy's body engulfed in flames. Not wanting to look at the boy, he took a deep breath.

“Pinnochio, please go into the living room while I get up…” Although he meant to say it softer to the boy, it came out much more harshly. The wooden boy tilted his head but returned the smile he had to his face.

“Okay, will you be making breakf-” The puppeteer cut him off by ushering the boy out of the room and closing the door behind him. He let out a sigh of relief as he returned to his bed.

I can’t look at him anymore. I love my son to death, but that isn’t him. It can’t be... My son burned in that fire. The puppeteer crumpled into a ball on his bed. “What have I done?”

Time ticked on as slow as molasses. However, before long it was already midday and Geppetto hadn’t gotten the courage to look at the door. Pinocchio tried knocking on the door a few times as the puppeteer wept. Each knock pushed more regret into Geppetto’s very soul. He just couldn't bear to go out there again.

“Papa, please. I didn’t mean to upset you. Please open the door.” His son pleaded. Hearing his son’s voice pulled Geppetto out of his mental solitude. Each of his pleas rippled a deep-rooted sadness through him. He's never going to get his boy back no matter what he did. He couldn't believe he trusted the blue faerie to bring his son back.

Out of nowhere, the puppeteer's room went dark. A cool breeze licked the back of his neck and once he turned to face what caused the breeze he was met with a familiar solemn figure.

"Geppetto, why are you pushing your son away?" The woman stared into the puppeteer's soul. He winced at her gaze.

"That's not my son- I can't believe I fell for your ruse."

"I don't have a semblance of an idea about what you're going on about. I went out of my way to bring your son back, and this is how you act? You humans are all the same-"

"That puppet out there is not my son- My son wouldn't be prancing around with a doll and asking for grape jam. What did you do to my son?"

"Your son is human. I'm not sure if I can spell it out for you anymore, Geppetto. He's bound to grow up, change, and try new things. All you've done to him is push him away-"

"Change? It's not just little things- He's completely different now, I can't even recognize him anymore."

"You were the one who chose the puppet for his new body-" The woman's voice went cold as Geppetto shook his head. "Now, you can choose to be grateful, or I can easily just take the boy away from you. It's your decision, Geppetto. Remember that." Without a further word, the woman disappeared in a blue smoke. With the woman's words cutting deep, Geppetto opened his bedroom door to find Pinocchio once more.

Making his way to the living room, he saw Pinocchio crouched in front of the fireplace. He could hear the boy sniffling from where he was standing.

"Pinocchio? What's wrong, my boy?" The boy flinched at his father's words, not expecting to see him standing there all of a sudden.

"D-Do you still love me, Papa?" The boy's words cut deep into Geppetto's soul.

"I- Pinocchio... why would you ever think that? I'm your papa, my boy-" Pinocchio took a step back as Geppetto made his way over to him.

"What did I do to make you angry, Papa? Why-" The boy stumbled as the puppeteer took another step.

"Come here, my boy. Please..." Geppetto reached his arms out to comfort the wooden boy, but once he did the boy shoved his father's arms away.

"I don't want to upset you anymore, Papa" The boy continued to take steps back, away from Geppetto. Realizing he was getting dangerously close to the fire, the puppeteer reached out once more, trying to grab his son. "I'm sorry, Papa-" The puppet took one last step, falling back into the fireplace before Geppetto could reach him again. The boy screamed as his body ignited in flames and Geppetto quickly pulled the boy out of the fire. He could hear his son’s body pop and crackle as he ran to the kitchen to grab a bucket of water. Memories flashed through his head, reminding him of how he lost his son originally. Hearing his son’s screams of pain made him sink further and further into his nightmarish reality; he’s losing his son once more.

“Papa, I'm so sorry-” The wooden boy mewled as his body crackled from the flames. "I just want you to be happy-" The boy's limbs twisted as the fire burned away at his timber frame. It looked as though he was reaching out once more for his father’s embrace, even though the ferocious flames were forcing this shift against his will. Geppetto sprinted to the living room with the fresh bucket of water and drenched the boy. Hearing his son's body sizzle as the flames extinguished crushed the puppeteer. As soon as the flames disappeared, Geppetto grasped the boy's charred body and held him close, ignoring the soggy pieces of him that fell off as he lifted his body. Geppettos world came crashing down once more as the newfound silence throughout the house overwhelmed him. There was nothing else that could break the deafening silence; his son no longer had a heartbeat or air flowing into his lungs. The puppeteer shivered, tears streaming down his face. 

"Pinocchio please- I love you, my boy. I'm so sorry-" The puppeteer tightened his hold on his son, audibly hearing parts of his body creak under the pressure. He didn't want to lose his son again. "Say something, Pinocchio. Please-" Tears continued to billow down Geppetto's face as he choked out sobs. “Oh, Pinocchio! I’m sorry- I’m so sorry.”