The Motion of Puppets

“I’ve been awake all day between naps. How can that be, without the moon or without the stars?”


Directly above her, Olya spun slowly in her chamber, her wooden shoulders scraping the edges. “We are no longer in the Back Room, and we are free of its rules.”

Irina laughed bitterly. “Free as one can be, shut in a coffin.”

“Until we get to the next place,” Olya said. “We will be in a kind of limbo, between one world and the next. The Original must be traveling with us.”

“Purgatory in a box,” Masha said. “Shut up and sealed is worse, if you ask me, than knowing where you are and what is to be expected. At least in the Back Room, you could see your friends every once in a while. Here the scenery never changes, the company never varies.”

On her left, No? quietly sobbed. “What I wouldn’t give for a little light, a gulp of fresh air. I’m going crazy in here, I tell you, cooped up night and day, never knowing if it is night or day except for the constant driving, driving, driving, then stopping probably at some cheap hotel out in the sticks. This is no way to live. Without your friends, your family. A chance to move and play, a chat across the table.”

“Ah well,” Olya said. “No use complaining, nobody is listening, nobody cares. Least of all the Quatre Mains, who could do something about it. You must make the best of your lot in life. Think of Kay, this is her first trip. Give some consideration to her feelings.”

“Hers? What about my feelings? What about some consideration for the rest of us, bundled like packages? Like bottles in a case—”

From the right side, Nix trumpeted. “Oh would you please shut up? It’s like this every time. Whine and moan and carry on. You know it’s not forever. You know we had to leave the toy shop, they have come looking for Kay. Most likely we’re bound for a better place, a happier tomorrow. Songs to be sung. Capers, jests, a chance to perform again. So you have a little inconvenience—”

“Feh,” Irina spat out. “An inconvenience? Better they would just dump us in the back of the van in a great big heap and then lock the door. At least then we could move about, see how the others are.”

Masha hollered from her chamber. “Are you there? Can you hear us? Good Fairy? Devil? Are you all right, my Queen? Mr. Firkin, are you with us?”

The six puppets went quiet and waited for a reply. The other tombs were quiet. A cricket had crawled into the back of the van and began to chirp. The song echoed and filled the space.

“I wish I had a shoe to throw,” No? said. “And silence that bug.”

“Where are they?” Irina whispered. “Do you think they are here? Maybe the Quatre Mains forgot them at the Back Room.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nix said. “Perhaps we have stopped at some little burg and the masters decided to put on an impromptu roadside show. No doubt the Queen and Mr. Firkin are behind the proscenium awaiting their cues.”

The cricket picked up the tempo.

“Or maybe they can’t hear us over this godforsaken cricket,” said No?. “I would give my left arm for a shoe. Hell, I would throw my left arm at it if it would just shut up.”

Olya restored reason. “Let us take a measured approach. The other box could be tucked away behind who knows what matter of junk. On three, I want us to all shout ‘Hello! Can you hear us?’ Loud as you can. One, two, three…”

They shouted, and within a few seconds came the shouted reply: “Hello! We are here! Are you there?” Even the Dog howled a high lonesome greeting.

“Are we there?” Masha laughed.

“What dopes in the other box,” Irina said. “What a ludicrous question—”

Nix interrupted. “I’ll not have you insulting the Queen. Or Mr. Firkin. Or whoever it was.” He spoke as loudly as he could. “We’re here! Wherever this may be…”

“We have stopped for the night,” Mr. Firkin yelled. “We are searching for a new Promised Land.”

Irina hollered, “Let’s hope it doesn’t take forty years!”

“Keep your spirits up,” the Queen bellowed regally. “It shan’t be long.”

On her word, they each fell silent. Kay was reassured by the presence of the other box of bodies. She had grown accustomed to them all. Indeed, she had a fondness that surprised her in its intermittent tenderness, for they were only puppets, after all. Above her, the Sisters shifted in their compartments, trying to get comfortable. Nix was softly whistling a circus tune, and the scratchy sound from the left could only mean that No? was tossing her straw head from side to side. Outside and far away, a car occasionally passed by, a melancholy sound, and Kay guessed that they were indeed parked at a hideaway motel. Just as all had gone still and quiet, the long night stretching ahead, the cricket song started up again.

“Stupid fucking cricket,” No? said. “I’d like to hammer it. I’d like to squash that … pest.”

From the upper berth, Olya whispered, “Hush.”