The Puppeteer. (Patreon)

In a shadowed alley, 'neath the moon's eerie glow, Lived a puppeteer, a master, whom the townsfolk did not know. With twisted grin and hollow eyes, he'd weave a wicked spell, On drunk and stumbling wanderers, 'til their lives took a wicked swell.

When midnight's cloak enveloped the sleepy town, The puppeteer emerged with his sinister renown. He'd lurk and wait for tipsy souls, lost in their revelry, Then capture them with darkened strings, a nightmarish puppetry.

His fingers danced with eerie grace, marionettes in hand, As he whispered incantations, a vile and dark demand. Threads of magic, woven from his body's cursed fluids, Bound the helpless prey, as the puppeteer grew ever more morbid.

Invisible strands of his essence, a grotesque and wicked brew, And in a flash, they'd shrink in size, their lives now askew. From the puppeteer's very veins, the strings emerged, A macabre twist of fate, his vile magic fully surged.

Tiny men, like dolls in a cruel, twisted play, Their cries for help unheard, their souls slowly decayed. The puppeteer's unholy laughter echoed through the night, As he turned these once proud men into his grim delight.

Each miniature man had no control, their fate forever sealed, For the puppeteer's wicked desires could never be concealed. Their drunken stupor now their curse, a twisted, haunting game, As they danced upon the strings, forever marred by shame.

Under the full moon's eerie light, a drunken man did cower, Witnessing the puppeteer's unholy power. In a shadowed corner, he hid, trembling in fear, The puppeteer's malevolent laughter ringing in his ear.

He thought himself safe, but oh, he was wrong, For the puppeteer's magic was dark and strong. A white, ghostly strand emerged from the night's veil, Wrapping around the man's ankle, his courage turning frail.

He struggled and screamed, in terror he did wail, As the puppeteer's twisted magic threatened to prevail. A stark reminder to all who wandered the night's bend, Beware the puppeteer, for his darkness knows no end.

So remember this tale of fear and dark decree, And the drunken man ensnared, forever not free. In the depths of night, when shadows twist and blend, Beware the puppeteer, your soul he'll seek to mend.