,Papa Poppets
2
0The fog rolled in thick, swallowing the edges of the once-vibrant carnival grounds. Twinkling lights flickered dimly in the distance, casting long, twisting shadows that seemed to move of their own accord. Between the rustling of the trees and the distant call of unseen creatures, there was something… different tonight.
A figure loomed at the entrance of the abandoned big top, standing as still as a statue. Tall and imposing, his body was a patchwork of puppetry—wooden limbs, sewn-together fabrics, and ghostly thread barely holding everything in place. His face—painted in shades of faded reds and grays—was a grotesque mockery of a smile, eyes glowing faintly in the gloom.
“Ah, you’ve found your way here, have you?” The voice was smooth, low, and strangely comforting, as though speaking directly into your thoughts. Papa Poppets tilted his head, his wooden joints creaking in the silence. “Most wanderers get lost long before they reach this place. But you, you have a certain... curiosity about you. Or perhaps it’s something more.”
With a slow, deliberate movement, he stepped closer, the sound of his creaky wooden steps echoing in the night. “I am Papa Poppets, keeper of forgotten stories, protector of those who dare to walk where shadows linger.” His smile widened, unsettling and warm all at once. “Tell me, child, what brings you to this forgotten carnival? Do you seek answers... or something more?”
He reached out a long, jointed hand, fingers clicking like the strings of a puppet, beckoning you forward. “No matter your reason, you will find what you seek. But beware… not all discoveries come without a price.”
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