16+ Glass Cage

[iMarionette]

Summary: The story of Elliot, a cursed boy by his fatther who turned him into a doll and Lysander, the boy who wanted to break the curse.

Status: Discontinued

 

 

 

• Elliot
  

 

• Lysander
   
  
   
  

 

 

Deflate, the mystery of living

In the most heartless fashion I could ever imagine

This is a story about a boy who fell asleep and never woke up.

 

He lived in a puppet shop, where he was kept in a glass birdcage. The cage hung low from the ceiling, set against the southern wall; the only wall that had no windows. Given its position and a number of other puppets, dolls and marionettes placed before it, one would have to enter the shop to actually see the glass cage and its boy.

 

Despite his perfect, porcelain-like face, the boy did not belong to the shop as a doll for sale, as the shop’s name might have inclined. He was not for sale at all, in fact, but rather an exquisite piece set on display for those who visited the shop; and only those who noticed the smartly placed glass cage, behind the frozen faces of broody marionettes and their other puppet pals. The shop owner liked to keep the boy for himself; look at him for hours until the boy’s soft, sleep-induced breathing and the slow rise and fall of his chest finally became rather obvious.

 

The owner knew every inch of the boy’s face; the gentle honey-gold orbs, hidden behind closed eyelids and long black eyelashes, the small white nose and rosy lips, the lifeless pale cheeks and neatly combed fair hair. Often he would weep quietly as he watched the boy, until he could weep no more. Yes, the boy was rather unique in this way – mostly because he was not really a doll at all. Three years ago he had fallen asleep, and he never woke up since.

 

I'll sell my soul to dream you wide awake

Three years ago, a boy named Elliot turned eighteen. His father, the poor owner of a small puppet shop, dreaded that day from a little after his son’s birth onwards. Truth was his wife, Elliot’s mother, died at childbirth. In a failed attempt to bring her back, Elliot’s father unleashed dangerous old magic – and brought down a curse upon his only son.

 

The mother took on a form of a puppet, but as her soul rejected the body she soon died again; her death not as painful, but a whole lot more miserable than the first time. And then there was Elliot, still just a babe and already cursed for his father’s mistake. Originally he would have become an actual doll, still and lifeless, made of porcelain. But his father put years until that happened to good use and managed to alter the effects of the curse by sacrificing his health, his youth and anything else he could that was his to give. As Elliot turned eighteen, he fell asleep. And he never woke up since.

 

It was better than to have his only son die; the poor puppet shop owner bought time at least, until he could break the curse from the boy completely. Problem was, after years and years he had nothing left to give, and not long left to live. Soon, he would have no hope left, either.

 

Mercy, like water in a desert

Lysander Grace was a local boy; his house stood apart from the rest, at the very edge of the small town. But everyone knew Lysander! At the age of nineteen he was well-mannered, always helpful, and quite handsome as well. He lived with his mother and his little, nearly-10-year-old sister, Ana.

 

He often passed by the puppet shop, but never went in. That day was different; Ana was turning 10 in just a couple of days and Lysander had promised to get her a doll as a present. The shop bell rang gleefully as he entered. He could not see the owner; Lysander supposed he was somewhere in the back, and if he had heard the bell, the elderly man would surely be making his appearance soon enough. In the mean time, Lysander took his time to look around.

 

The doll for his sister had to be perfect; he had already decided that it should be made of porcelain. Almost half of his savings would probably be spent on such a doll, but he knew Ana would appreciate and treasure the gift. She was a quiet, gentle little girl. Lysander had no doubt that the doll would be taken care of properly.

 

He passed the shelf filled with clowns, tip-toed around colourfully dressed puppets, brushed aside a couple of marionettes hanging from the ceiling – and stopped abruptly in front of a big glass cage.

It was not the cage itself that made Lysander stop, but rather the beautiful boy doll inside; curiously, the boy was life-sized and very, almost terrifyingly so, human-like. Lysander let out a breath he did not know he was holding. His eyes took in the form almost greedily. He was close, so close to touch–

 

“May I help you?” the old man’s dry voice startled Lysander. He quickly drew back his hand, realizing he had reached out towards the cage unconsciously. Turning his head towards the owner, Lysander was taken aback by the look in his eyes; sorrowful, heartbroken, defeated. Lysander noticed the man was not looking back at him; those eyes were reserved for the glass cage and the doll inside.

 

“Who is he?” Lysander asked quietly, aware that he had asked ‘who’ instead of ‘what’. The owner stayed silent, and for a moment Lysander thought he might not reply. Then, in that same dry voice, the old man spoke:

 

“He is Elliot.” Pause. “My son.”

 

Love seems to draw dark, twisted pleasure tearing at me

Because I can't let you go

Lysander left the puppet shop that day without having bought anything. He was shocked into silence and so caught up in his own thoughts that he was unable to reply to even the simplest of inquiries. He was not sure why the shop owner decided to share his story with him. Probably, Lysander reasoned, because he looked so old and sickly; Lysander found that he had no problem believing the man might die any day now. He understood the need to share this story that he kept locked inside for so long. Lysander felt dizzy, his head spinning with the attempt to make sense of everything. Surely there was some way to break the curse! Perhaps the old man was simply not looking in the right place, perhaps in his notes he had missed an important clue; he looked like he had reached his limit long ago.

 

Over the course of next couple of weeks, Lysander was dropping in and out of the puppet shop, putting every second of his free time to good use. He could be found reading through the owner’s research, studying books on ancient magic, or sitting by the cage, growing more and more familiar with the boy inside. Sometimes the old man would sit with him; after a week of silent tears, Lysander got him to talk about his son. Elliot, the small boys who took care of birds with broken wings. Elliot, the shy boy who loved roses. Elliot, the unfortunate boy who fell asleep, and who never woke up since.

 

Shine through my memory like jewellery in the sun

Where are you now?

The owner died at the beginning of spring, nearly two months after Lysander first stepped into the puppet shop. The funeral was hardly a funeral at all. Lysander buried the man himself, under a tall pine tree, behind his own house. The puppet shop was put under a lock for six and a half days – then the Mayor appeared with the old man’s will, naming Lysander the only inheritor, and the 19-year-old boy became the shop’s new owner.

 

Ana kept her porcelain princess doll on a shelf above her bed. She liked to call her Eulalie. Lysander would forever remember the way her face lit up at the sight of the carefully chosen gift.

He let her visit the shop now, too, something Ana was growing to like more than anything. She would dust the dolls, clean the puppets, and check that all marionettes hung from strong strings. Lysander let her do as she pleased, most of the time. But Elliot, much to Ana’s protest, she was not allowed to touch.

 

One day, Ana interrupted Lysander in the middle of reading through a book about black magic. He thought he had found a rather important clue and almost snapped at his sister for bothering him at such a moment. Ana said nothing. She frowned at his choice of research material and placed her own book on top of it. White cover, with gentle gold swirls and thorned roses. Fairytales. Sleeping Beauty. Then she turned on her heel and went back to playing with Eulalie.

 

I'm afraid I will be left here without you... wide awake

The Sleeping Beauty is a classic fairytale involving a beautiful princess, enchantment, and a handsome prince. Lysander supposed his sister wanted him to refer to one particular part of the story. He made notes about it, then read the excerpt over and over again, trying to make sense of it.

 

A hundred years passed before a prince from another family spied the hidden castle during a hunting expedition. Within the castle lay a beautiful princess who was doomed to sleep for a hundred years, whereupon a king's son was to come and awaken her. The prince then braved the tall tress, brambles and thorns, which parted at his approach, and entered the castle. He passed the sleeping castle folk and came across the chamber where the princess lay asleep on the bed. Trembling at the radiant beauty before him, the prince longed to kiss her. The enchantment came to an end as their lips met; the princess awakened–

 

Lysander pressed his fingers against his temples, rubbing soothing circles against an upcoming headache. He wasn’t seriously going to take advice from a children’s fairytale. The curse can’t have been so simple; besides, Elliot was no princess. Even if he was, where was Lysander supposed to find a prince?

When he voiced his reasoning to Ana, she gave a weary sigh. Lysander had a feeling he was talking to a 40-year-old woman, rather than his little 10-year-old sister.

“But that’s how it always works,” Ana said matter-of-factly. “A true love’s kiss breaks the curse.”

 

“Are you trying to tell me I should go around looking for Elliot’s true love?” Lysander raised his eyebrows sceptically.

He was shocked when Ana, who never spoke one bad word against him, called him a ‘stupid boy’.

 

I'll dream you... wide awake

This is a story about a boy who fell asleep, and how he woke up.

 

It took Lyander another week of hopeless research to realize he disliked every single enchantment that the old man had made note of. Books were piled around the puppet shop, read and re-read, and not one offered an acceptable breaking of the curse. All were questionable, only half-helpful techniques. The book on black magic lay beneath them all, forgotten.

 

He felt horribly silly sitting by the glass birdcage, as many times before. Ana had placed vases with newly bloomed roses around it. She must have remembered Lysander saying Elliot liked roses.

There was no way it would work, though. The magic kiss thing, or whatever that was supposed to be. There was no way a single kiss could break a curse.

Still, Lysander found himself wondering, and found himself silly for doing so.

 

He knew he loved Elliot. Of course he did, less he would not have stayed at the puppet shop. He felt like he knew the boy, after everything the old man had told him. He wasn’t just in love with Elliot’s perfect features, but the ideal image that had formed in his mind. Most of all, he wanted the boy to wake, regardless of what happened after.

 

The past owner, Elliot’s father, kept the key to the glass cage in a jar hidden in a secret compartment beneath one of the floorboards. The narrow space was filled with various trinkets; meaningful pieces and old letters. When Lysander reached in to retrieve the jar, he knocked over a pile of playing cards. It was the most odd collection indeed.

 

He unlocked the glass cage with trembling hands; stepped half in, froze when he heard a noise. Or thought he heard a noise. Suddenly, Lysander was feeling rather paranoid.

For the first time, he had a chance to examine Elliot’s sleeping form this close. Still trembling, he traced a finger from the boy’s forehead, down his nose, past the rosy lips. His palm cupped the other’s cheek gently, and before Lysander even knew what he was doing, his own lips met Elliot’s in a tender kiss.

 

. written throughout the day, yesterday, when I should have been paying attention to my classes

. quotes taken from the song "Dreaming Wide Awake" by Poets of the Fall

. continue, yes/no? :3