The Grimm Diaries Prequels Volume 15 - 18 Page 8

  So they sent the so-called Dreamhunters after me, and I was a fork away from my own extinction.

  Being the sneaky Immortal I was, the only way to kill me was in my dreams. The one who once was the hunter, eventually became the hunted.

  I started running for my life.

  Until I found a dark magic to defend myself against the Dreamhunters, I needed to escape to another realm. Preferably, a virgin one. A place that had just been created a while ago, so I'd find enough people to seduce and recruit into an army.

  Hell itself had been a messy place. Going back there was like a serial killer going back home. He'd get caught immediately.

  I needed a trick. A devilish trick. Ahem. And when I say devilish, the pun is intended.

  I was in Europe at the time, loving the chaos in Transylvania, Rome, and the Eastern Ottoman areas. There was enough greed, sloth, and blood there; this really felt like home. I had impregnated so many women there--Scottish women and Italian women -- gotta love ‘em. I bought so many souls that I could return in ten years time, and collect my army of darkness in a blink of an eye.

  But Europe had become a dangerous place for me. I needed to find that virgin place to escape to.

  I had to escape. Especially since one of the best Immortal Dreamhunters was after me. A man named Abraham Van Helsing.

  I had no defense against being killed in my sleep at the time. If that man had caught me, the world would have been without me since about two hundred years ago now. That would have sucked, wouldn't it? Who would you fight without me? Who would you blame for the things you do? Oh, I forgot. People never needed a devil to whisper the magic word in their ears so they'd do the horrible things they do. I was just a trick of mankind, so no one admits they were the most stupid, evil, and heartless creatures in the world.

  So there I was, on a little boat going nowhere through the big wide ocean--always loved the ocean; if there was just a way I could light it on fire…that would have been marvelous.

  I rowed and paddled for days and nights, maybe years, until I finally found my sneaky way through the Missing Mile, that part of the Fairyworld they didn't know I knew about. Then I found Lady Shallot's tower, and climbed its walls for seven days until I reached the top--the staircase rejected my demon soul, so I had to find my way outside.

  I eavesdropped--one of my favorite sins by the way--and listened to Lady Shallot as she was granting a new couple a new world. They were Carmilla Karnstein and Angel Von Sorrow. I knew them of course, since I had worked for Night Sorrow for centuries ago--I'm honored by the way.

  After Carmilla and Angel had left, I climbed in through the window and sat in front of Lady Shallot, eating one of her tasty worm-penetrated apples.

  "How dare come to this holy place?" she shielded her face with her hands.

  "I'm not that ugly," I frowned. "Just give my face a chance. I know many people who loved it eventually," I took another bite.

  "How did you find me?" she pulled her hand away, disgusted by my features. “I think it's the horns, right? It's always the horns,” I said. "There is no place for you here. If you don't leave, I'll--"

  "Could you please stop?" I used my long fingernails to pull out a chunk of the apple stuck between my teeth. "You know damn well you could do nothing to me."

  "How dare you?!" Lady Shallot was about to cast a lightning bolt of some kind of magic upon me.

  "Not going to work," I said. "You know I am part of your world. You can't just kill me that easily. Besides, you need me," I snickered.

  "I wouldn't in a million years," she said. "Not until you burn in Hell."

  "If I had a soul for every time I heard that." I brushed another apple clean with my long pink sleeve. I was a fashionable guy; I liked to dress well, probably compensating for my ugly looks. Isn't that why we all get dressed, covering up our fat asses, ugly bellies, and scrawny features? I just got a red face and horns, that's all. My ass is fine, by the way. "Look Lady Shallot, you are bound by the rules of the universe. And the universe demands balance."

  "So?" She looked puzzled--I love that look on people when I start to talk reason. Do I give the impression that I can't talk reason?

  "In order for Sorrow, that new kingdom you've just granted to Angel and Carmilla to abide by the universe's rules, you need me as a balance. You've created all good things for them. And the universe, in its most annoyingly mysterious way, doesn't like that. Where there is good, there is always ... ahem ... evil."

  "You want me to let you into Sorrow?" she sat back, defeated, knowing that what I just said was true. She couldn't do anything about it. It was against the cosmic laws to create a place purely good or purely evil--except Hell of course, which was basically Switzerland. Believe me, there is always Switzerland, even when it comes to the Gods.

  "But if I do that, I'd be conspiring with you," she said.

  "But you will do that," I smiled. "You know why? Because good people's biggest pet peeve is that they like to follow the law, which they created in the first place. And laws, however intricate, are flawed." I have always loved that moment. Imagine a serial killer who kills so many victims. The good policeman catches him, and then the court releases the killer, because the policeman didn't read him his rights. Gotta love human laws and logic.

  "I need to escape that Abraham Van Helsing beating down my ass," I said. "I mean my tail. Let me into Sorrow."

  "What makes you think I won't send him after you in Sorrow?" she wondered.

  "I know you will, and that I will have to escape him there again," I explained. "Let's say I just need a fresh start." In my dictionary, a “fresh start” had always been the chance to do the mistakes all over again.

  So long story short, Lady Shallot couldn't do anything against me having access to the ripe new Kingdom of Sorrow. Little did she know that I needed to go there for a reason.

  Escaping that Dreamhunter, I needed to transfer my soul to an entity that didn't sleep. This way Abraham Van Helsing couldn't enter my dreams and kill me. And I had decided… what better place to hide my soul but in a puppet. Brilliant idea, right?

  Courtesy applause, please?

  I am genius.

  The puppet had to be made of a certain wood though, to take me in through a spell of course. It had to be made out of Juniper Tree wood, a curly tree that had eyes at the end of its branches.

  Sorrow was one of the few places in the world where these trees grew. And a man named Ghepetto was one of the few woodcutters in Sorrow who made puppets out of it.

  So here I come, Gheppeto of Sorrow!

  Like I said previously, Ghepetto was a lonely puppet maker who prayed to have a son--a long time before marrying and fathering Hansel and Gretel.

  For a couple of days I pondered whether to trap my soul in one of his puppets or not.--and please stop asking whether I have a soul or not. I have something that makes me move and talk, whatever you want to call it.

  Even though the spell would save me from my pursuer, I had no spell to get me out of it afterwards--going back to my Hell Children in a puppet uniform would have been the end of me.

  One night though, I had no choice. The Dreamhunters had entered Sorrow and spotted me strangling a squirrel. Like today's kids love killing zombies, I had a thing for choking squirrels.

  The Dreamhunters followed me through the forest, and I ended up back in Ghepetto's cottage. Panting, I rummaged through his puppets and looked for a puppet I liked. My specifications were modest; lean limbs, oiled, and the hardest wood available. I needed a mobile puppet I can walk and travel in. Finally, I came upon one puppet that looked like a boy; probably Ghepetto's dream child or something. The puppet also had a neat hat with feathers next to it. I told you…I had always been into fashion.

  As the Dreamhunters were questioning Ghepetto by the door, I recited my spell to trap my body and soul inside the puppet.

  It wasn't a hard task. It hurt a little, and the migraine was unbearable, but then I was finally in.

  When t
he Dreamhunters entered the cottage, Ghepetto was showing them that he had nothing but puppets inside. They were going mad, unable to find me.

  And my most devious plan was working like a charm.

  For two days, I struggled with making the puppet's legs and hands move. The spell surely trapped me inside, but to be capable of moving the limbs took some training. Like someone who'd just implanted a new leg, and needed his brain to send the right signals to move it.

  I managed to jerk a leg and hand for a while, but not move and walk. Staying trapped in this damn puppet, looking inside-out had been real torture.

  A week later, I was finally in control.

  Ghepetto seemed to have a certain liking to my puppet, repeatedly enhancing a limb here and a hand there. He had an infatuation with my nose, oiling it and smoothing it day after day. Above all, Ghepetto had a name for me: Pinocchio.

  Pino for short, which was a derivative word of timber or something in Italian.

  I waited until Ghepetto left and decided to go out for a walk, to explore the world in my new body.

  Standing in front of the mirror, I pulled my hat off, but then I saw that my horns stuck out through the puppets head. Some horns, those, I seethed. I put the hat on again, gluing it to my head so I wouldn't get exposed, and went out for a walk.

  The world was actually fun for a walking puppet. I'd sprawl on the ground next to the School of Sorrow, waiting for a child to pick me up, and then scare the shit out of them. The child would run hysterically, informing his teachers of the talking malevolent puppet, and no one would believe him.

  I walked to the forest. Strangled me some squirrels, scared some sheep, and befriended an air-headed elephant who couldn't differentiate between a puppet and a monkey--don't ask me why they had an elephant in Sorrow.

  Slowly, I discovered that being a puppet wasn't that bad. There was no evil I couldn't do being short and wooden.

  Ghepetto took great care of me; dressing me up, and talking to me as if I were alive. I reckoned he desperately needed a child, so I talked back to him.

  Ghepetto fainted the first time, but then I convinced him that I was a miracle sent to him from the Gods--the oldest trick in the book to elude people.

  It worked for a while, but frankly Ghepetto was boring; too good, too naïve, and utterly without edge. I despised those kinds of people; not because they were lamely good, but because I believed they were just that way because they didn't learn the art of evil. Wanna prove to me you’re good? Go study the art of evil first, and then come talk to me about judgment day and repentance.

  The time came when the Dreamhunters gave up looking for me, thinking I had died on my own or something. They had also become alliances with the king, Angel Von Sorrow, fighting Night Sorrow's army on the borders.

  It was time for me to find a way out of this horrible puppet I was trapped inside.

  Asking around, sniffing evil, I found myself in front of a Candy House, where an old witch named Baba Yaga lived.

  The first time I talked to her, she was going to eat me. Then she found me useless, and not tasty being made from wood.

  "Someone cooked you too much, little human," she noted.

  Amazingly, telling her that I was Lucifer the devil, the Prince of Darkness, had no impact on her. Evil in Sorrow had exceeded all expectations; I was just another guy practicing the profession.

  In the end, Baba Yaga told me that my last hope would be the Piper.

  "The Piper?" I tried to grimace, but the wood didn't help.

  "I am not going to repeat his name again," she said, chewing on a brewed flesh of some kid, spitting out the bones. "It's bad luck. But yes, it's him. He doesn't live in Sorrow. You will have to cross the oceans back to find him."

  "I would do that, if I only knew how he'd be capable of helping me," I said.

  "It's easy," she said. "You sell him your soul, and he will free you from your entrapment in this Pinocchio body."

  "Sell him my soul?!" I burst out. "I am the one who makes people sell their souls to me!"

  "We'll, the day has come for you to sell your soul to him."

  "And who is he, to sell my soul to?" I stomped my wooden foot.

  "He is all-dark, all-evil, beyond your imagination." She spit out another bone that fell right before me. I cringed. The bone looked so much like wood.

  "And who am I?" I protested. "I thought I was all-evil, all-feared and despised," I knelt before her. "Please tell me I am still the most despised in this world?"

  "You're the most embarrassing at the moment, that's for sure," she gave me that look. "You don't even eat children. Why do you think you're the most evil? You're just celebrity. Maybe you caused a hassle up there in Fairy Heaven, but we both know you're more reputation than real evil. Now don't waste my time, and go get yourself on a ship across the ocean. Go look for the Piper, and beg him to accept buying your soul."

  In my frustration, I darted out the door and ran out to the forest, crying like I had never cried before--I just remembered, I had never cried before!

  It was the worst feeling in the world, knowing that you're not the number one evil entity. That you're not the most despised, the most hated. I can't explain how much it hurt.

  In my moment of weakness, the universe decided to make real fun of me. It sent me a fox.

  Mr. Fox talked to me, as if it was normal to talk to puppets. He made it look easy, and he came across as understanding. Even when I explained that I was the devil trapped in a puppet, he believed me. He advised me to live my life, until I found this Piper and sold him my soul.

  "So you have heard of the Piper before?" I asked, sounding naïve, my confidence shattered.

  "It almost everyone's dream to sell their soul to the Piper," The Fox leaned forward, as if he didn't want anyone to hear him. "Did you know that the most famous musicians have sold their souls to the Piper?"

  "Are you saying no one's ever wanted to sell his soul to me, the devil?"

  "Well for one, if I were you, I wouldn't tell anyone I am the devil in that puppet outfit," the Fox noted. "And two, we both know that people don't want to sell their souls to you. You make them do it, using their weakness. It's pretty sneaky and disrespectful. I am a Fox, so I know what I am talking about when I say sneaky."

  "So what do you suggest I do now?" I asked the Fox.

  "There is a nameless Puppet Master who entertains the Queen of Sorrow and her friends. He is the man who buys Ghepetto's puppets regularly. I suggest you go attend his show, and become one of his puppets."

  "You want me to work? I never worked for anyone in my life, even the Gods," I folded my wooden arms and looked away.

  "Well, you will work for the Puppet Master, I tell you that," the Fox said. "He knows how to find the Piper."

  "Really?" I was aware of sounding like a child. My reputation as a badass devil was really diminishing.

  The Fox showed me the way to the Puppet Master, carrying me like any other puppet.

  The Puppet Master didn't like way I looked. He said that he wanted to give me new legs and arms, and he hated my nose. The sneaky Fox agreed, and was paid a hefty price, using me--I hope my children in Hell never hear this part of the story about me. I had been double-crossed by a Fox.

  When the Puppet Master started cutting my legs and hands to pieces, I had to scream. It hurt, like going back to Heaven and apologizing to the Gods.

  "What kind of demon are you?" The Puppet Master flashed a cross at me.

  "Put that away, please," I sighed. "It doesn't work, not even on vampires. Besides, I am a talking puppet. Why would you fear me?" I did a little dance for him, and the man laughed and relaxed. Funny how you can disarm anyone in this world by pretending you are a fool.

  "Can you do that dance in front of the queen?" he asked.

  "I will do anything," I offered. "As long as you tell me how to find the Piper. The Fox said you know him, right?"

  "Of course, I know the Piper," the Puppet Master said proudly. "But you will hav
e to work for me for a while, before I tell you how to reach him."

  "Deal," I offered a hand for shaking, something I had never done before. People usually sign in blood for my deals.

  The Puppet Master took my three-finger hand and shook it.

  The days went by, and I had become the queen's most favorable puppet in the shows. When she asked my master how I talked, he claimed it was magic. I didn't care. I wanted to keep my end of the deal, until he told me how to reach the Piper.

  But like the Fox used me, so did the Puppet Master. He trapped me in a bird's cage when I wasn't performing, and stole the money I made. He even tried to cut my tongue out once when I cursed him repeatedly in my devil's voice--but sorry master, puppets ain't got no tongue!

  Even when I decided to scare him with my horns from under the hat, he laughed at me and tried to sell me for the highest bidding price – as a devil.

  "New devil, caught by me: has horns, curses all the time, and is so evil, it's so funny." He tempted others to buy me for a golden egg.

  Sadly, ironically, and most unexplainable, no one wanted to buy me.

  What kind of world was Sorrow, I mean really? Where do people sell devils as if they were exotic parrots, and where in the world wouldn't you want to buy me?!

  Days went by again, and I eavesdropped on the Puppet Master--did I tell you it was my favorite sin? It's a shame it's not listed in the Ten Commandments. "Though shall not eavesdrop!" That would have been golden.

  Anyways, where was I?

  Yes, I heard my master say that he'd never heard of the Piper before.

  In what world is the devil such a fool? Ahem. Fool me once, you're a sneaky Fox. Fool me twice, and I'll kill ya!

  Are you starting to feel my nerves and anger rising? Don't say I haven't warned you.

  So I waited for my next show, where I played Hamlet in a puppet play for the queen. Instead of killing my mother--or whatever that weird stuff Shakespeare wrote--I went berserk and killed them all. Think Hitchcock's Psycho--I know it hadn't come out yet. Or think The Count of Monte Christo on LSD.

  Slash, swoosh, and snap. I chopped off wooden heads with stiffened features and too many colors--ever noticed how puppets are so creepy, and they play them for the kids? Then I broke the puppets legs with my wooden hands, enjoying the sound of the crack, and the splinters of timber flying all around. Then I walked over and brought a chainsaw and went zigzag on them.