^CADMAN^GERTZ^ D3 {DONE!}
Jan 31, 2014 10:37:08 GMT -5
Post by Loony on Jan 31, 2014 10:37:08 GMT -5
^C A D M A N^T A Z^G E R T Z^
^AGE~ 15
^DISTRICT~ 3
^GENDER~ MALE
^OCCUPATION~ TOY
^DISTRICT~ 3
^GENDER~ MALE
^OCCUPATION~ TOY
Like a puppet on a string you hold on tight
You hold on tight like a puppet on a string
Like a puppet on a string you hold on tight
You hold on tight, you hold on tight
There was a time before the dollhouse, a time when I was a young boy who could run and jump and play at my own demand. I miss running the most, to feel the wind against my face, chilling me to the bone. I remember my mother would scold me, but with my hazel eyes glimmering and cheeks a rosy red, she never actually do anything about it. I remember my father, he would whisper to me as I fell asleep on his lap. "You're strong Cadman. It's in your name." Then he would lift me in his warm embrace and place me gently onto my bed. His words had an impact on me, perhaps they are the only reason I am alive today. I loved father, I loved my mother and I loved my siblings, I just didn't know it until I was yanked away from them. I don't know why I was kidnapped, maybe he thought I was weak, as I am only 5'6" and not particularly muscular.But I was taken, into the demented family that views me as no more than a toy.
There wasn't much to me before the kidnapping, just a young boy in district 3 who was born into a decent family. Of course we were oblivious to the "games" happening right down the street. I played with my siblings most of the time, but I always seemed to get into fight with the older boys, as I insisted I was stronger than them. They would laugh, shove me down and leave me there as I tried not to solve. I'm still certain that if any one of them was in my current position, they would of gave in a long time ago.
I don't remember what exactly happened during my kidnapping, only that I was walking to school alone, as I prefer my own company in the mornings, and that I was upset that my mother didn't pack me a banana. Our family was one of the few that could afford things like fresh fruit, and I never starved before the dollhouse. But I was ignorant, under the belief that at 13 no one could hurt me. So when I woke up unable to move, I naturally panicked. The first time was by far the worst, I tried to move, I willed any part of my body to move. First my ears, for I used to wiggle them to entertain my little sister, then my eyes, which brought hope because I could blink. That hope was diminished when I tried to lift the skinny twigs that were my arms, first my left, which I broke when I was 5, then my right, which had a small hole where the drug was injected. The legs gave no help either, as both remained firmly planted on the table. The tears began then, welling up in my eye, causing the bright spotlight to blur into a fantastic sun. I saw the squiggly outline of someone, and blinked quickly to see who my captor was. Stricken to see it was the taxidermist, who I waved to everyday as he knew my father. This was a man my family trusted, and he betrayed them in the cruelest of ways.
He explained to me my new job, to be the loving doll of his daughter, the small girl standing next to him. I would of used every curse word my young mind knew if I could just move my lips and tongue. Instead, he tied the strings around me, attaching them to a complex series of pulleys. My face stoic due to the drug, I watched as he handed them to the girl, who was grinning happily at me. "Your gonna be my bestest friend." No little girl, I am not. Now that I look back, that thought was ridiculous, but I hadn't realized how strenuous this job was going to be and that escape was more difficult than learning to fly.
The first playtime involved drinking fake tea as the girl learned to control me. It involved many smacks across the face with my own hand, and caused imaginary tea to fly across the room. The girl, Annabelle, would laugh and I would scream my silent insults. My fathers words rang inside my head "You're strong Cadman." and I would close my eyes for a second, allowing myself to gain strength then prepare for another round of slapping and laughing. Eventually I am put back with the other dolls. They stare back at me behind their own cages. All have a sense of hopelessness to them, something I couldn't stand. When the paralysis drug wore off, I spend that first night screaming at them to help me and themselves. "Fight back" were my two favorite words that night. But my throat became hoarse and my body was drained, so I crawled onto the stiff mattress, refusing to let tears stream down my face, because I was strong.
I was afraid, to be completely honest. Not because I feared dying, but because I feared that I would lose myself. I looked at these people around me, and how they were so willing to give in. I know that they were probably a lot like me on their first day too, but now they are my future. They have given up. I was not going to do that. I was not going to give these sick bastards the pleasure of letting me disappear behind a stoic face and paralyzed body.
The first month was filled with the girl learning the controls, she struggled a little because I was older than her other "doll." However, I wasn't much heavier and she grew strong quickly, mastering the art of puppeteering. I stared into her eyes, hoping my hatred of her was evident, that my eyes would show her that I was not just a toy. Annabelle and her family, a sick family who got off on controlling the lives of others in a pristine dollhouse. No not all of them. The wife was another doll, her cage close to mine. She was not a fan of this game and she payed the price for it. She is now a toy for her husband, and I don't envy her. The only people I envy are the people who still roam around the district, completely unaware of the small group of toys laying beneath their feet. They still have control of themselves, and they can save us.
There wasn't much to me before the kidnapping, just a young boy in district 3 who was born into a decent family. Of course we were oblivious to the "games" happening right down the street. I played with my siblings most of the time, but I always seemed to get into fight with the older boys, as I insisted I was stronger than them. They would laugh, shove me down and leave me there as I tried not to solve. I'm still certain that if any one of them was in my current position, they would of gave in a long time ago.
I don't remember what exactly happened during my kidnapping, only that I was walking to school alone, as I prefer my own company in the mornings, and that I was upset that my mother didn't pack me a banana. Our family was one of the few that could afford things like fresh fruit, and I never starved before the dollhouse. But I was ignorant, under the belief that at 13 no one could hurt me. So when I woke up unable to move, I naturally panicked. The first time was by far the worst, I tried to move, I willed any part of my body to move. First my ears, for I used to wiggle them to entertain my little sister, then my eyes, which brought hope because I could blink. That hope was diminished when I tried to lift the skinny twigs that were my arms, first my left, which I broke when I was 5, then my right, which had a small hole where the drug was injected. The legs gave no help either, as both remained firmly planted on the table. The tears began then, welling up in my eye, causing the bright spotlight to blur into a fantastic sun. I saw the squiggly outline of someone, and blinked quickly to see who my captor was. Stricken to see it was the taxidermist, who I waved to everyday as he knew my father. This was a man my family trusted, and he betrayed them in the cruelest of ways.
Got your education from just hangin' around
You got your brain from a hole in the ground
You come up, look around, for a will of your own
But you're mine yeahhhhh
He explained to me my new job, to be the loving doll of his daughter, the small girl standing next to him. I would of used every curse word my young mind knew if I could just move my lips and tongue. Instead, he tied the strings around me, attaching them to a complex series of pulleys. My face stoic due to the drug, I watched as he handed them to the girl, who was grinning happily at me. "Your gonna be my bestest friend." No little girl, I am not. Now that I look back, that thought was ridiculous, but I hadn't realized how strenuous this job was going to be and that escape was more difficult than learning to fly.
The first playtime involved drinking fake tea as the girl learned to control me. It involved many smacks across the face with my own hand, and caused imaginary tea to fly across the room. The girl, Annabelle, would laugh and I would scream my silent insults. My fathers words rang inside my head "You're strong Cadman." and I would close my eyes for a second, allowing myself to gain strength then prepare for another round of slapping and laughing. Eventually I am put back with the other dolls. They stare back at me behind their own cages. All have a sense of hopelessness to them, something I couldn't stand. When the paralysis drug wore off, I spend that first night screaming at them to help me and themselves. "Fight back" were my two favorite words that night. But my throat became hoarse and my body was drained, so I crawled onto the stiff mattress, refusing to let tears stream down my face, because I was strong.
I was afraid, to be completely honest. Not because I feared dying, but because I feared that I would lose myself. I looked at these people around me, and how they were so willing to give in. I know that they were probably a lot like me on their first day too, but now they are my future. They have given up. I was not going to do that. I was not going to give these sick bastards the pleasure of letting me disappear behind a stoic face and paralyzed body.
With porcelain eyes and the mind of a monkey
Rode into town on the back of what looked like a dead donkey
So I do, to you, what a puppet master would do
Can you tell? Yeahhhh!!!
The first month was filled with the girl learning the controls, she struggled a little because I was older than her other "doll." However, I wasn't much heavier and she grew strong quickly, mastering the art of puppeteering. I stared into her eyes, hoping my hatred of her was evident, that my eyes would show her that I was not just a toy. Annabelle and her family, a sick family who got off on controlling the lives of others in a pristine dollhouse. No not all of them. The wife was another doll, her cage close to mine. She was not a fan of this game and she payed the price for it. She is now a toy for her husband, and I don't envy her. The only people I envy are the people who still roam around the district, completely unaware of the small group of toys laying beneath their feet. They still have control of themselves, and they can save us.
As the weeks turned into months, my attempts at escape were numerous. I used anything at my disposal, once using a button from my shirt as a pathetic attempt to pick a lock. Of course these all failed, only causing punishment. I have refused to think about the punishments, I only allow myself to remember that attempting to escape will only bring pain or worse. My father's words are what keep me going. Why? I am not sure, but something inside of me is refusing to collapse completely to give in to these games to become a toy. I have seen what it results in, as some of the other toys are just as sick as our captors. I am not shattered, not yet, but I am broken. My will to escape is gone, simply because I fear the punishments, I have given in to these peoples demands. I accept my position as a toy, not because I want to be one, but because there is no other choice. In some ways, I find it noble, because a toy is durable, taking years of abuse and still functioning, something that a child loves, a respectable position. Yet in most aspects I find it despicable, how could someone allow themselves to be controlled by another? Why would you let that happen?
I'll tell you why, because my name may be Cadman, but I am weak. I have failed my father and allowed myself to be a toy.
I'll tell you why, because my name may be Cadman, but I am weak. I have failed my father and allowed myself to be a toy.
Like a puppet on a string
Like a puppet on a string
Like a puppet on a string
Just like a puppet on a string
Like a puppet on a string
Like a puppet on a string
Like a puppet on a string
FC: John-Alan Slachta
Song- Puppet on a String (perfect right?)
Pulling Your Strings Plot
oDair
oDair
