<soft sobbing>
“Child, what’s the matter?”
“Papa, I am so mad it’s making me cry.”
“Mad about what?”
“‘They are telling lies about you, but I’m afraid to tell them to stop.”
“What kind of lies?”
“They say you aren’t fair.”
“Hmm.”
“How can you be so calm? They’re lying about you.”
“You need to see something.”
“What?”
“Go back and stand a safe distance from them. Look up. You will see them.”
“See what?”
“The strings.”
“Strings?”
“Of the puppeteer.”
“Who?”
“Go look.”
I went back as my Papa told me. I hid behind the boxes. From my hiding place, I looked up. I could just make out the strings. Strings attached to their heads. Strings attached to their jaws. As I looked to where the strings began, I saw him – the enemy of my Father – the deceiver. He was so intent on working the strings on his puppets he didn’t see me, but seeing him, a shiver ran down my spine.
Copyright 2014
