All I wanted was a chair, some popcorn, and a moment where no one was bleeding. Enjoy something that didn't involve monsters, sweat, or a job with sudden death risks.
So when this city held a Traditional Puppet Theater Festival, I thought:
"Why not?"
Cheap ticket. Comfy seats. Popcorn vendor at the entrance.
Peace.
Valmor stood beside me—
because obviously, horses can't sit.
His eyes squinted at the dark stage behind the dusty red curtain.
"This is weird," he whispered.
"What?" I replied, mouth full of buttery corn.
"The stage… it's cold. Too cold. The air here carries something… dead."
I looked at him.
"That's because we're in a basement, Valmor. Stale air and the scent of mold are part of the aesthetic."
The curtain opened.
Dim lights flickered on.
Five figures appeared from behind the curtain, controlled by a puppeteer in a black cloak.
The figures… yeah, they were "realistic."
Pale skin. Empty eyes. Stiff movements. Too stiff.
Valmor leaned in toward me, his voice nearly panicked.
"Aria, those aren't puppets. Those are corpses. Preserved corpses."
I chewed slowly.
"If they are, the preservation work is top-notch. Look at the one in the middle—the expression is on point."
Valmor started fidgeting. "Look at the audience! They're not moving. They're not even blinking!"
I looked around.
He was right.
Some audience members were too still.
Like… statues.
Or… something that shouldn't be sitting in row three.
Valmor bit my cloak.
"We need to leave. Now. This isn't a performance, it's… a ritual!"
I pulled my cloak back.
"If this is a ritual, then the popcorn's excellent."
On stage, one of the corpse-puppets began to dance—jerky movements like bones freshly risen from a grave.
The audience—both living and not—clapped.
I clapped along.
Valmor started barking. BARKING. I didn't even know he could.
"ARIA! WE'RE SITTING AMONG THE DEAD!!"
I grinned, tossing a kernel into my mouth.
"Don't bother me. This part's funny."
On stage, one of the corpses smiled at me.
I raised my hand and waved back.
Valmor was already trying to bite the exit door handle.
But it didn't budge. Locked.
I leaned back in my seat, relaxed.
"Chill. We're not dead yet."
Valmor turned to me in panic. "Yet?!"
I smirked.
"If they start singing, then we run."