A fan of classic,
Z to B grade monster films -
He was determined,
To make one of his own.
He search the house,
For masks or make up,
And couldn't find anything -
Apart from a little,
Zombie finger puppet,
That his folks gave him,
At the age of thirteen.
" Now I need actors. "
He thought to himself.
For weeks on end,
He asked friends,
Family and acquaintances,
If they would be in his movie.
Sad to say,
He was having,
No such luck.
For they all had,
Silly things to do -
Like working day jobs.
Still,
He tried and tried.
Til everyone,
Started feeling sympathetic,
Towards him.
When one friend,
Agreed to be a part of it,
She asked if there was a script -
" Sh**. "
He thought to himself.
Months on end,
He struggled with writer's block.
He paced back and forth,
With the zombie finger puppet,
On his index finger.
All he needed,
Was a good story,
Then the project can get going.
Though surely,
Nothing was clicking.
At this point,
He was considering,
Dropping the idea all together.
When a sudden voice,
Appeared in his mind.
" Keep going. "
The voice said,
In a faint whisper.
He looked all around,
And saw nothing.
" Keep going. "
The voice continued,
In a much louder tone.
He looked around once more,
But still saw nothing.
Then,
In sudden realization,
He started to get an idea,
On where the voice,
Was actually coming from -
Although,
He hoped he was wrong,
For this could mean,
He was going a bit crazy.
He slowly risen his hand,
With the zombie finger puppet,
On the index finger.
" Hello!? "
He said,
To the zombie finger puppet.
" Keep going. "
The voice said.
He let out,
A slight girl - ish scream -
But yet,
He didn't take off running.
Instead,
He just stood there,
Staring at the zombie finger puppet.
Amazed at the sight,
That this thing,
Was even taking to him.
" Keep going. "
The voice continued.
He responded -
As though,
If he were in,
A slight trance.
" Ok. "
A year,
Had now passed.
His friends,
Family and acquaintances,
Were starting to grow concerned.
For he looked,
As if he hadn't,
Bathed or slept in weeks
But he still showing determination,
On doing the project.
Even more strange,
No matter,
Where he went,
He always had,
The zombie finger puppet,
On his index finger.
When it came,
To confrontation,
He would always say -
" I have to keep going. "
Then one day,
One friend had enough,
And tried to remove,
The zombie finger puppet,
From his index finger.
That's when he retorted,
By slapping them,
Across the face.
Then,
As if he just woken up,
He realized the damage,
He was doing to himself,
And to everyone around him.
He knew,
Right then and there,
Something had to be done.
He tried yanking,
The zombie finger puppet,
Off his index finger -
But it wouldn't budge.
As he tried and tried again,
The voice invaded his head -
" Keep going,
Keep going,
Keep going. "
" Shut up! "
He shouted.
He pulled and pulled,
But it just stayed on.
At this point,
With no other alternative,
There was only one option left.
He ran to the kitchen,
While still tugging,
At the zombie finger puppet,
And grab a neaby knife.
As painful as it was,
And how much the voice,
Continued shouting,
He started cutting away -
Finally freeing himself,
From the zombie finger puppet.
A month went by,
Since he was sent,
To an asylum.
Though,
Was in good health,
And wore a bandage,
On his now missing,
Index finger.
He received daily visits,
From friends, family,
And acquaintances.
Who were just glad,
To see that he was ok.
Though one day,
When his mother,
Came to visit,
He was happy say,
That he finally had a story.
This of course,
Scared her,
But was willing to listen,
With curiosity.
" Ok. "
He said.
" So here's the story:
A fan of classic,
Z to B grade monster films -
Was determined,
To make one of his own.
So he searches the house,
For masks or make up,
But couldn't find anything -
Apart from a little,
Zombie finger puppet,
That his folks gave him,
At the age of thirteen ... "
©jaykirish
J