Lives Between Walls

It had been a normal day in the office for Angie up until that moment. It was a late Thursday evening, and she was looking forward to being out of that call centre and back in her flat. She would jump into the tub immediately when she got back – she would just open her front door kick off her shoes, toss her bra aside and immerse herself into a nice long soak. It had been quite a long day. Angie had not known that it would be so tiring answering calls all day, phoning up people and selling them insurance, hearing them bitch and moan about not having the time to talk to her. They should be paying her much more than the peanuts she was getting for this. However, she had no choice at the moment. Her husband having just been admitted to a mental asylum – she now had to become the breadwinner in their home. “Oh Arnold,” Angie sighed as she massaged her temples with her left hand. Her mother had warned her against just being a housewife, “Angie, you can’t just depend on a man. What if he just ups and leaves you?” Angie would shake her head and laugh, “Mom, you’re such a prophet of doom.” It seemed her mom would have the last laugh when her husband was admitted last year. It all seemed like a blur to Angie. One day her husband was a successful professor of the most prestigious university in Orchidville, next he was blabbering on about some Puppet Master in the sky who controls everything. Angie still recalled the time her husband started going crazy. “Puppet Master! Please make her understand!” He had shouted staring up at the ceiling. “What is going on with you Arnold? Why are you screaming?” Angie had woken up in shock at the sound of his voice. This went on for a good hour, until Angie did what any concerned wife would do. She had called their counselor Sam Mathys, who recommended that he be isolated for a while, until they could get to the bottom of this anyways.

The sound of the phone ringing at her desk snapped her out of her thoughts. Angie picked up the phone, “Emporium Insurance, Angie speaking how may I help you?” There was no answer. Angie started getting a bit nervous glancing around the room at her other colleagues who were busy on their own phone calls. “Is anybody there?” She continued; still no response. She put the phone down. Her phone rang again for the second time, “Emporium Insurance, Angie speaking how may I help you?” Again, there was no answer. “Listen, I don’t have time for games anymore. We are at work here, please stop calling!” She slammed the phone down, her heart rate beginning to elevate. The audacity of this person! Must be some psycho or a teenager on weed looking to get his kicks. This job was the pits for Angie. The things she had to deal with where just too much. The phone rang again for the third time. She stared at it for a moment, hesitating. Her supervisor walked by her, “Well, that phone won’t answer itself darling,” he bellowed as he adjusted his glasses. Angie sighed and picked up the phone once again, “Emporium Insurance, Angie speaking how may I – ” she was interrupted by the voice that spoke on the other side. “Hello Angie,” a stern male voice replied. The voice was deep sounding, at the same time it had such kindness behind it – Angie was drawn to its familiarity. “Umm, hi,” she responded unsure, “do I know you?” Angie actually felt the person smile on the other side of the phone. She couldn’t understand how. “You do know me. I am the Puppet Master,” the voice replied.

Angie threw her head back and let out a full throated laugh. One of her colleagues noticed. It looked like Angie was having the time of her life with this call. “Did Arnold set you up to this?” Angie responded. “I am the Puppet Master, and you are one of my Puppets,” the voice replied. The voice seemed to resonate with Angie’s entire body – almost as though her body and all her senses recognized who this was, it was just her mind that was stubborn. “Listen man, I don’t have time for pranks here. If you have nothing to say, please stop calling here!” Angie snapped furiously. There was a pause, then the voice on the other side of the phone said, “Angie, are you okay? I noticed that you seem tired and easily agitated these days. I understand what happened with your husband was traumatic, if you need to take time off, please let us know.” Angie was totally lost now. She slammed the phone down, her elbows on the desk and her hands covering her face. Her supervisor walked towards her. Angie looked up. Her supervisor smiled at her and said, “Angie, are you okay? I noticed that you seem tired and easily agitated these days. I understand what happened with your husband was traumatic, if you need to take time off, please let us know.”

Angie was stunned. Those were the exact same words just spoken by the voice over the phone before she hanged up. She was trembling now. Could it be that she was talking to the Puppet Master, and he was real? No it can’t be. “Angie?” Her supervisor snapped his thick fingers, “Are you still with us?” Angie shook her head, “Yes of course Mr. Elzaphan. I thank you for your support and will let you know if I need anything.” The supervisor smiled and squeezed Angie’s shoulder before walking off. Angie smiled back briefly, before she frantically tried to dial back the number that had called her. As she was dialing the phone rang! She hurriedly picked it up, dropping it onto the desk out of pannick. “Hello!” She squawked. There was a brief moment of silence. “Please talk to me, please. There are some questions I want to ask of you,” Angie pleaded. The voice, now quite authorative replied, “Go to the mental asylum and release your husband. His time there is done.” Angie could not believe what she was hearing. Could it be that her husband had been telling the truth about the Puppet Master? “How did you know my supervisor was going to say those words to me?” Angie inquired, still skeptical, “that could have just been a lucky guess.” The phone line was silent. “Hello?” Angie continued. There was not even the sound of breathing, Angie wondered if she was even talking to a human being at all. Suddenly the line went dead. “Argh!” Angie slammed her fist on the desk. She had lost him again. She tried to redial back, but it kept saying that the number did not exist. Angie was perplexed, and she did not know what to make of this. The words of the Puppet Master just echoed within her head, “Go to the mental asylum and release your husband.”

It was weeks till her curiosity got the better of her and she decided to visit the mental asylum. This was stupid, and she was just going there to prove that this was just madness. She walked up the stairs, and just as she was about to push open the glass door, she caught a glance of her reflection staring back at her. What was she doing? She froze at the door. Was she really going to heed the words of a stranger over the phone? Worse was she really going to believe the words of her lunatic husband? She shook her head, “This is garbage,” she muttered to herself as she pushed open the door and walked in. She entered the entrance hall, and made her way to the receptionist’s desk. “How can I help you mam,” a concerned matured lady nurse smiled at her. Angie hesitated, was she really about to do this? “Yes mam,” she stammered, “I’m here to get my husband. His name is Arnold, admitted here last year.” The nurse immediately flipped through her book. “Ah yes,” she exclaimed as she pointed to a name on the book, “I will have to check with the doctor if he is mentally well to leave or not.” Angie nodded. She knew coming here had been a stupid idea. Of course her husband was not okay, he was still so convinced about the Puppet Master. The doctor would definitely refuse to let him go.

A few minutes later, the nurse came back with the doctor. The doctor smiled and stretched out his hand for Angie to shake. “Mrs. Brown? Good to see you again. What brings you here?” He enquired. Angie looked around the room, fidgeting with her handbag strap. She glanced around the room and saw several mentally challenged patients dressed in white. “I am here to collect my husband,” she replied. The doctor chuckled, “Well, you can see him, but as far as collecting him goes, I don’t think that will be possible.” Angie and the doctor started walking towards Arnold’s ward. “You see Angie,” the doctor continued, “we cannot afford to release someone if the facility deems thay they will be threat to people around them. And Arnold so far, is possibly the most dangerous person in this facility.” Angie was shocked. What had Arnold done to be considered dangerous? Had he hurt someone? Angie inquired concerned, “Oh my gosh, what has he done?” Finally they arrived outside Arnold’s ward, “See for yourself.” The doctor opened the door and there he was, Angie’s husband sitting amidst the other patients, teaching them the ways of the Puppet Master. All the other patients, sat attentively and listened as Arnold spoke. When he saw Angie, he paused and glanced towards her with a smile and yelled, “Ah Angie! The Puppet Master told me that you are coming to take me home because my time here is done!” Angie turned and looked at the doctor, bewildered. How did her husband know that this is what the voice over the phone had told her? Was the Puppet Master real? Angie’s head was spinning and tears started welling up in her eyes. The doctor replied, “You see Angie, ever since your husband came here, he has been talking about this Puppet Master. The incredible thing is, our patients, even the one with severe mental issues, actually understand what he is talking about.” The doctor swallowed, as he turned towards Arnold. “That’s why Arnold can never leave this facility, we cannot let him spread these teachings to the rest of Orchidville. At least until we understand what we are dealing with here.” This was all too much for Angie. She felt that she was now the one going crazy. The room was spinning around her and she couldn’t make sense of anything. In the background she heard the doctor’s voice asking if she was okay. The last thing she saw, was a set of strings attached to the doctor’s hands feet and mouth, going all the way through the ceiling to the heavens. At the end of those strings was a cross like piece of timber, like the one used by puppeteers, and holding that piece of timber was the man who had spoken to her over the phone. What a glorious sight it was for her, like nothing she had ever seen in her life! This was probably what her husband had seen, “Puppet Master…” she whispered.
Then everything started going black and she felt herself falling onto the floor.