Legend has it that, long ago, a Silver Angel came down to wreak havoc on all our lands. When he arrived on the frosty steppes up north, he met a lost kitten, alone and starving. He never cared for these furballs... but he stayed and observed it from a distance at first, but without being able to control himself, he took one step closer... and another... and another, until he was so close that the kitten felt threatened. Indeed, despite its predicament, it became fierce and used all its energy to attack the intruder. Amused by its fearlessness, the angel brushed the creature's back with the tip of one of his silvery wings. As a result, the kitten stopped moving and started to purr instead. They both became inseparable ever since. This is how the legend of the Hopecatcher started.Among all the myths crowding the old wives tales and our deepest most hidden collective memory, the Silver Angel and the Hopecatcher, is the story that left the biggest impression. It is unclear whether it holds any truth, but beware which kitten you choose to pet... for you might lose a limb.Like all stories, time has a strange way of shaping them to its liking. The Silver Angel has now disappeared from all myths to be replaced by the Puppet Master. In truth, no one believes in a selfless creature going around and spreading pure goodness... just like that, for nothing in return. For it stands to reason that all angels – but for the dark ones – only have good and pure intentions.No matter the story that you chose to believe, all agree on this: the Puppet Master is a strange character who is not to be trusted. His love of darkness and dangerous creatures make him unreliable and a pariah, therefore, a manipulative "psycho". Pardon the euphemism. He is always on the prowl for lost souls wandering beyond our borders, sucking all hope out of their hearts. He will go to any length to instil fear and chaos wherever he goes. Needless to say that, even though people are in agreement, these are but hear-say and rumours which source is unknown. However, it would not be surprising to learn that the Puppet Master was behind them.You understand then that this gave way to many theories as for who the Puppet Master was. Some more ludicrous than others... A conspiracy theory depicts him as one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse whose sole purpose is to destroy the world and all that lives. Another believes that he has the knowledge and wisdom of a thousand gods. It says that when he finally comes, one creature – human, demon or beast, etc. - will be chosen... no talks of the whys behind such a choice, though, but the suspicions lean naturally towards evil. Finally, a very few, like me, are convinced that the Puppet Master already dwells among us, biding his time for whatever scheme he has up his sleeve. They – not me – are persuaded of his mischievous nature.As this theory is the most probable – though maybe not the evil part, it is of course overlooked. As such, the Puppet Master is free to roam amid our world, laughing and hiding his true face behind his grin. He is the "psycho" pulling the strings, taking any personae he wishes... no one has ever seen his real form... there is none alive that can tell about him, or so we think. The "pup" master, as they call him, could be you... or it could be me.All this is evidently pure conjecture. Friend or foe... no one knows. One thing is certain, the mere mention of the Puppet Master makes hearts beat faster, eyes open wider, breaths being taken away. I'd say that maybe he is the one who keeps our HOPES alive... My Dark Disquiet by Poets of the Fall Night, the world, it’s mine, with nobody else out hereIt’s time, run wild and royally cavalierTo burn, ignite, I’d do it for so much lessWhen all is made clear there is nothing else And here we stand, the sweet arresting dualityAnd I come to, it’s resin all over meWill I awake, will I get a ride with youIn this race of two We’re an endless stream of choicesWe’re the softest murmur of voices Without names we’re fantasisingDancing like flames, mesmerisingMy dark disquiet playing such eerie harmonies Making waves and diving underLightning to the sound of thunderMy dark disquiet singing such haunting melodies So white, so still, so bright, it’s almost too painful now I’m ready to fight, to run from the light And here now comes the sweet corrupting realityWhile now I’m free, will I once cease to beWill I awake, will I get a ride with youIn this race of two We are momentary mastersWe’re false kings and bastards Without names we’re fantasising… We are marionettes by strings animated Yet like lovers of strings liberated Without names we’re fantasising… Brothers by blood separatedMarionettes animated Lovers of strings liberated |
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