They all cried out.
A harmonized wail of heartbreak as he slumped to the ground.
The puppet was broken. His strings had been cut.
The life that moved his limbs, gave him such incredible expression, had left.
The cries were bestial. Savage. Fairy dust wishing applause.
The puppet would not move.
The audience surrounded the stage.
One tentative hand reached out and pulled the tiny wooden sword from the puppets chest.
A singular movement shuddered through the crowd.
They watched, they sobbed.
The puppet was broken.
The dance had ended.
They took their leave, one by one, saying prayers and wishes.
Flower petals left as offerings.
A solo piano plays out a tune, yearning for its orchestra.