The Puppet Heart

Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.
― Martin Luther King Jr., A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches

He found her on the roadside, many thoughts ago. Like a flower frozen in spring was she, with blond ringlets and stark blue eyes. He could see her story the moment he laid eyes on her. She had been brought into a home loved, she was used and finally discarded with. His mind was penning her destiny as he inspected her, rotating her ever so slowly so he could get a good look at her features.

He took her home, cleaned her and changed her into clean clothes. She looked 6, but neglect had taken years off the fragile child. He set her up on ledge and shone a soft amber lamp on her dainty face. As the bell tolled midnight, the man sat and toiled through the night to sketch her pretty face.

Photo by Susanne Jutzeler on

As the world was beginning to be bathed in the gentle glow of a new day, the streets saw a lonely man and his newly acquired treasure walking barefoot, plastering posters on walls high and low. He was charging a penny per person but it had been weeks since he had had a meal or a drink.

He held on close to the broken doll and prayed children would want to know her story as badly as he wanted to be the one telling it.

Into a little shed were they seen going into, a box and a princess came out, a man almost lost under the huge box shuffled stolidly and set the box on the street where children were known to stop for a popsicle or two. Into the box did the princess go, the man on the floor and the show was off to a start with an audience of a thrush and two early worms and one cat. The man distorted his voice to resemble that of a child to say:

“On winter’s death was this story birthed
As a little human decided he was in need of a daughter.
Needles and fabric were summoned,
Blue buttons and golden yarn.
Silk frills and sapphire eyes were brought in.

Day and night did my father toil
As the cuckoo sang on the second morning
With a child’s touch, was I brought to life.
Days and years did I live to be
Her sole advisor and friend.
On nights when thunder rattled the earth,
I held her in my arms and
And sang her to sleep.

The child fell prey to an evil I was safe from.
On growing up, she lost sight of life
And I was dumped in the shed I was created,
Only my father was no longer there to breathe new life.

On streets and foster homes, did I die the rest of my life
For the world sees not the heart of a puppet
But it’s beauty that age takes away.”

Here, a gentle whisper, unlike the forced childlike voice that spoke till now was heard.

“For the child that said heaven is a toy store,
Bless you, darling.
I shall welcome you home
And hold you close till your heart breathes in peace.”

Photo by Flora Westbrook on

As the overhead sun bore witness to the little souls dropping their precious pennies and waiting to give the puppeteer a hug, the angel of death had just finished a song of his own making and watched as the poor man nodded off, to a slumber, not of Earth. The little child clung to his hand as his soul went in search of what dreams called home.

Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.
― Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land

This was inspired by a stuffed monkey that’s been laying around our house for a good while. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to write but it ended up being a tale that (hopefully) portrays a puppeteer’s tender love towards an abandoned doll he found on the roadside. I didn’t want the ending to be tragic but it just seemed fitting that telling the girl’s story after all she went through, set the story-teller free of all earthly obligations and seemingly breathed life into the puppet girl as well. I’m not sure how this comes across in general but I hope you enjoyed reading!

aforementioned monkey
Christened Mr. Pink Monk by Evin, stuffie photo approved by Diamond (thank you so much, guys!)

Speaking of love, I wish you all a very happy Valentine’s Day! Love comes in all shapes and forms; be it for a person, a pet or a toy, love is making the bright side of life shine stronger!

Photo by Gabby K on

Thoughtfully yours,
Introverted Thoughts aka D

59 thoughts on “The Puppet Heart

  1. OH This is the sweetest!! glad you got some minutes to yourself!!! πŸ’–πŸ’–πŸ’– to write
    Love this
    “For the child that said heaven is a toy store,
    Bless you, darling.
    I shall welcome you home
    And hold you close till your heart breathes in peace.”
    Happy V.Day to you too! πŸ’–

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Good imagery dear D ❣️❣️. Loved the final say….. For the world sees not the heart of a puppet
    But it’s beauty that age takes away!
    How truly said!?
    Happy Valentine’s Day D πŸ’žπŸ’ž

    Liked by 1 person

  3. So well written D!!! I love this and you are quite the excellent writer!!! There are some truly amazing lines here, my favorite has to be, β€œAs the world was beginning to be bathed by the gentle glow of a new day,” – Fantastic!!!! Awesome job friend, I hope to see many more pieces like this πŸ€—πŸ€—πŸ–€

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Dear D, this is one of the most moving. heartfelt stories you have ever written.
    Every word speaks to the reader, and without even trying it touches our hearts. The last line will live in my heart forever. Big thank you.


    Liked by 2 people

  5. Happy Valentine’s Day D!

    I love Mr. Pink Monk.

    I think that this story turned out beautifully. Your prose and imagery really is incredible, especially for someone young like you! I want you to publish a book so I can buy and read itπŸ™‚

    Liked by 3 people

    • Happy Valentine’s Day, Diamond!
      Haha, me too! He seems a lot more real now that he’s got a name.
      Thank you so much!! Ouch, I’m not that young πŸ˜‚ It makes me so happy to hear that because I wasn’t very sure of putting this out on Valentine’s Day.
      Aw.. thank you!πŸ’• I’d love to one day but I’m too scared nowπŸ˜‚

      Liked by 1 person

  6. A touching story about a kindhearted and attentive puppeteer, that could only be crafted so beautifully by another kindhearted and attentive designer – the writer of the story. Lovely. πŸ’–

    Liked by 2 people

  7. We know that we have come out of the dark and into it
    Darkness will return
    In us it is dark, in us an invisible light that floods through everything the body
    When we hate ourselves and others, then it is time to do the work with ourselves, to research our conscience to become aware of the need, the suffering, the inability that plagues us
    We cannot set the anchor with a single word, the work on indivisible human dignity never ends
    We cannot hope for ourselves on the ocean of life that we have to walk with humility
    We can set the real limits to the evil within and in the world, the writings and speeches of others

    We know that the union of insoluble opposites offends us in our longing

    We know that we will never and can never find happiness for the other as it should be

    We will never be released from our day-to-day obligations; if we really do, it gives us enough work to do

    Words do not make us vulnerable, imperfect people better, we have to face what is need with an open heart

    We don’t need to want to illuminate our life brighter than it is
    We have to endure what we cannot change
    We have to become aware of our own shadow


  8. Happy Valentine’s Day, D!
    “For the world sees not the heart of a puppet
    But it’s beauty that age takes away.”
    wow!! absolutely loved the way you ended that poem. Absolutely loved the way you narrated the story and it is beautiful how a simple thing can be spun into an amazing idea that you express inexplicitly into words. Awesome read D! An awesome post indeed ❀

    Liked by 1 person

  9. So so so so Bful πŸ’–
    I am pleasantly dumbfounded!
    The irony, narration and attention to detail was perfection to the brim. Reading this made my day.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. I would’ve never known the story was based on a stuffed monkey if you hadn’t pointed that out! I can kind of see it now because a person’s attachment to a child can be much like one’s attachment to a child. Great poem D!

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Pingback: A Porcelain Story – Random Specific Thoughts

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