 Since I was a little child, I was fascinated with old-school entertainment, ventriloquist, magicians, circus performers, puppeteers, or mimes. With very little effort, they were able to open up the doors of my imagination and put me under their spell. Over time I lost my interest in that kind of thing and turned more and more to electronics, but I never really forgot about my childhood heroes who I never stopped to admire. But one evening, my admittedly nostalgic fascination with these old arts of entertainment came to a sudden and undeniably disturbing end. I decided to visit one of the last plays of the Fearless Vampire Killers or Dance of the Vampires if you want to call it that. I always wanted to watch it, but only found the motivation when I heard that the musical would stop being played in Germany. After an amazing show, I walked the streets of Berlin. I headed for an underground gothic bar I'm a regular in. I just wanted to finish the day with some beers and in the company of like-minded people. Taking the main streets or public transportation didn't seem to be the right choice for that evening. Weather was fine, not too cold and the sun still stood high enough to color the sky fittingly blood red. In one of the back alleys, I noticed a bunch of teenagers standing around an old man giggling. I'm a little paranoid in these kinds of situations, so I prepared to intervene if it would have come to show that the old man was being picked on or harassed. I slowly walked towards the group and to my amazement found that there was no kind of harassment at all, but entertainment by the old man. The guys swayed around a wooden puppet on strings, let it do some tricks and told dirty jokes through the wooden doll. I just couldn't bring myself to walk away. I waited and watched the performance for several minutes, fascinated by the dexterity and precision of the old man handling the puppet. Besides his enormous talent, the old man seemed to be distant. He didn't seem to pay any attention at all and his face was expressionless. I figured that must be a good thing for a ventriloquist and he must have been doing this for decades now. Even though I kind of felt sad for the old man, I grinned broadly all the same. The jokes often were pretty inappropriate but consisted of really accurate observations of society which may have been his way to show his discontent for the people he met as a street performer over all these years. The tricks and stunts continued for around 10 more minutes until the puppet grabbed a handkerchief out of the old man's pocket, spread it out in front of itself, took a bow and thanked the people for the attention before wishing a good evening to everyone. Some of the teenagers grabbed some change from their pockets and placed the money on the handkerchief while laughingly complimenting the old man. I too wanted to pay the puppeteer, in my eyes that much talent and dexterity must not go unseen and unrewarded. While I was rummaging through my change, the puppet watched the teenagers carry on their way. I didn't think they'd give me money. Normally these pricks aren't good for anything but malice. I lifted my head, looked at the puppet and then watched the teenagers as well. Yeah, sometimes miracles really can happen. I laid my eyes on the puppet again, squat down and looked at its workmanship. It was clearly very old, maybe even to be considered antique. The wood was split up on many parts and the paint was chipped everywhere too. It really looked the worst for wear. You're immensely talented. You know that right? I asked and out of curiosity tried to touch the puppet's hand. Immediately I got slapped by the wooden doll. Hands off buddy, who told you you could touch me huh? The puppet snarled. I didn't think much of it. The puppet was old and the old man's subsistence seemed to depend on it. I apologized and put three euros on the handkerchief. Why are you sitting in the streets? That talent of yours you could easily perform at theaters. Well, I like it here. The street show me the real people, not the all dressed up snobs with their fancy wardrobe and opera tickets, thinking they're better than everybody. I see. Well, nevertheless, you are very talented. My compliments. At this moment, I realized that I'd been talking to the doll the whole time instead of the old man. I looked at the man. You can talk to me without the doll. I offered politely or I mean unless you don't want to break character. No, he can't. The puppet replied. But why? That's none of your damn business buddy. For a moment, I almost got angry. The puppets answers were as rude as the jokes it had told minutes ago. I decided to carry on my way bowed down, wished a good evening and went on without shedding any further thought about the puppeteer. Some hundred meters away, I came to an intersection and as I looked left and right to be sure about the traffic, my heart took a dive on the opposite side of the street on the left stood the old puppeteer. Again he showed the same tricks and stunts told the same jokes. But how on earth did he get there before I did? I may have just been walking slowly, but the old man did not seem to be light on his feet. I just couldn't take my eyes off him and his puppet as I walked slowly further. Even though we were at least 50 to 40 meters apart, I wanted to get as far away as fast as I could. At the exact moment I was to walk around a corner and lose sight of the old puppeteer, his doll's head turned right at me. While the old man still had that absent expressionless look on his face, his puppet stared right at me. For a fraction of a second, I was scared. Further remainder of my way, I turned around all the time always on high alert. I had the feeling of the puppet's eyes lying on me all the time, but no matter how many times I looked around, how much my head was tuning in every direction and how much I tried to register anything and everything around me, I didn't see the puppeteer again. It was only at the club that I was able to shut down and I tried to think of it as simple deja vu. My shivering hands told a very different story. The barkeeper asked me several times if I was alright since she thought I looked pretty shaken, but she took my word for it as I told her I just had a stressful day. Slowly but surely, the incident with the old man fell from me. The later it got, the more relaxed I became and in the end I was able to enjoy music, drinks and company as if nothing ever happened. At around 4 am, I went on my way home. Being in a good mood again, I strolled through the streets of Berlin heading for the Central Station. The temperatures had fallen low enough to make breathing visible. Not many people were still around and the city itself seemed pretty quiet. Not far away from Central Station however, I got that feeling of being watched again. I turned to all signs, nearly panicking. I wanted to ensure myself that it was just a trick played by my subconscious, but behind a tree somewhere around 100 meters in the distance, there was someone standing. I could make out for sure who or what was standing there without them moving at all, but I knew it was the puppeteer and he was standing directly in my way. No chance I meet that creep again. I thought to myself and turned into a back alley to get around the old man and return to my route behind him. My legs were shaking due to more than just the cold air and I had trouble keeping up my pace. Some 100 meters later, I wanted to turn again towards Central Station as I again found myself standing right in front of the old man. Standing only 10 meters away, his puppet eyes were staring again right at me. My breath stopped. All my senses screamed havoc. I wanted to run. Every muscle in my body was tensed up and I shivered. Good evening, buddy. The puppet said, Are you cold? You tremble like an aspen leaf. I didn't know what this was all about. Was it supposed to be a serious question or was it part of a disgusting kind of game? I just wanted to get out of here. The puppet spoke again. Oh look, you were pretty talkative back then. What is it that's left you speechless now? It really started to annoy me that the old man only talked through the puppet. Having a distinctive style is one thing, but that made the whole situation only a thousand times more menacing. My body started to prepare for a fight. I didn't seem to be able to escape him and with flight being no option, confrontation was all that was left. I took a deep breath and as I was about to say something, the puppet cut me off. Don't even try, buddy. You wouldn't sound threatening at all right now. You shiver too much for that. The old man let the puppet walk up and down in front of me like a CEO at a presentation of sorts still staring into space. What the hell do you want from me? Nothing at all, buddy. I just want to talk. Well talk to me yourself then instead of using that damn puppet. Of course the puppet replied, but I already do. I swear my heart skipped several beats. My breath stopped and I felt a sudden weakness running through me just as if every muscle in my body stopped working. My eyes widened and for the first time I looked close enough to see that the visible breath streaming into the cold air was coming from the puppet's mouth. Not the old puppeteer, but the puppet itself was breathing. It pulled down its strings from the old man's hands who sunk to the ground like a towel or bed sheet. He inflated like he had not a single muscle or bone in his body. My legs gave up and I fell to the ground unable to scream due to sheer terror. Hitting the asphalt must have sent an adrenaline rush through my body because I got up and as fast as I possibly could. I ran. I ran to the station to people and found the most crowded area I could find. It was only as I boarded the train and it began moving that I got a little more calm. It was only by chance then when I looked up out the window and saw the puppet and the old man standing there. The puppet smiled at me and waved goodbye.