My dad was a puppeteer
And he loved his job so much.
He was very successful with his career,
Until death gave him the final touch.
He was struck with cancer
And his end was very near.
He gave to me his puppet,
Which he named Mikael Zitser.
I didn’t know what to do with it,
So in the basement it lived.
When dad passed away, everyone was in grief.
Everyone was shocked, for his life has been so brief.
Out of the blue, we heard a sound from underneath.
It was coming from the basement, buried deep beneath.
We opened the door and at the bottom of the stairs,
There was the puppet, sitting idly on a chair.
Chills ran down in each of our spine.
We knew we had to get rid of it, we knew it was time.
The next morning, we sold it to a shop.
We didn’t get much in return, but it was worth the shot.
At least we didn’t have to see that creepy toy anymore.
It was gone now, or at least that’s what we thought.
I woke up at 12 in the midnight,
The room was so cold and yet the windows were shut tight.
I heard a sound on the desk and I quickly turned on the lights.
The puppet was on the desk, smiling and sitting upright.
How could this be? How is this possible?
Then, it spoke with a wicked voice that was so horrible.
“You and I are one, your father passed me on.
I am now yours and with you, I now belong.”