tales of Suchita

She knew it was a special occasion because the brilliant blue dress was coming out of the vintage trunk for airing. Laid out next to it were the blue jewels that went with the dress. And oh, the necklace fashioned in the image of the Hope diamond was also coming out! It must indeed be an important guest. Mr. Brickwell was going all out it seemed.

She sighed happily in her corner, waiting for the preparations to begin. If the occasion was as important as she thought it was, she knew Mr. Brickwell would be coming any minute to re-paint her face, especially her eyes. She wondered what colour pupils he’d give her. Oh she hoped he gave her blue ones – she didn’t like the yellow ones, even if it meant her eyes looked a dazzling green because of the blue dress’ reflection.

Mr. Brickwell indeed entered the room a minute later, looking stressed, sweating, wiping his forehead impatiently. He picked up Rose, gently unraveling the strings, ensuring they didn’t snap. He looked at her and for a breathtaking moment, forgot about the dismal number of tickets sold, the overdue rent, the hunger clawing his insides, the bleak future, his upcoming irrelevance…all he could feel was joy. Tears loomed in his eyes, splashing on Rose’s face.

“Hey Rose,” he choked out. “This will be our last show. No one is interested in stories anymore…of queens banishing errant knights from their castles, of princesses falling in love, of dragons burning down cities. Its over now…all over.”

Rose wished she could speak but his tears had wiped away her mouth and some of the rouge on her cheeks. She felt the familiar pull on her back as Mr. Brickwell adjusted the strings he used to make her dance and act so he could repaint her face. As her new features came into existence, she shuddered with mute fear. What would become of her, she wondered. She was made for a stage and an audience. What would become of her once the lights turned off, the music stopped and the applause died down?

“This will be our final act together Rose,” he said, filling her pupils with the blue he so loved. “And then, I’m going to cut your strings and set you free. Me, I am a slave to the human life but you, you Rose are not bound to life or its rules. You can be free Rose, free to do as you please.”

Though he couldn’t see them or hear them, Rose was crying her own tears now. If only cutting her strings could free her…but didn’t he see she couldn’t exist without him? He was her master, her creator. She danced because of him, she sang with his voice, she was in his image. And without him, strings or no strings, she had no purpose.

Rose and Mr. Brickwell performed their final act to perfunctory applause and as promised, he set her free. The act felt rewarding. But soon, he realized by setting her free, he had trapped himself because now, just like Rose, he had no purpose.