Puppet.
Puppet?
Puppet!
Alive.
Alive!
Alive?
Created by some god.
Made by a bored creator.
Envisioned for the child of a deity.
The puppet was made out of wood.
No, the puppet was made out of felt.
Incorrect, the puppet was made out of magic.
Magic?
Magic!
Witchcraft?
Wrong, good magic.
Powerful magic.
The power of a god!
It didn't feel.
The puppet doesn't need emotions.
You don't need to think.
But did it have a soul?
That...forces me to break the cycle. Darn you!
I don't truly know if it has a soul. Nobody does (Or do you already prefer nopony? We aren't even in Equestria yet!). The only being (and not being) that knows would be the puppet's creator. Its child never knew either, it added fun!
Now, where were we?
Ah, yes!
The puppet was content.
It fulfilled its purpose for ages and eons.
The puppet enjoyed being a puppet.
The child of the deity enjoyed the doll.
The puppet was played with often.
Nothing but playing and joy was the result of the puppet.
Where are we?
What? NO! Now I have to break the cycle again!
I...have no idea where we are, truthfully. We aren't in Equestria, yet. We will have to see in a few pages/chapters.
Now, stop asking these questions. You should simply listen to the story and enjoy it!
Ok.
Anyways, the puppet was a toy for eons.
The doll existed longer than time itself did.
Universes were made-by the creator, of course-and destroyed just next to the puppet and the child.
Creations died all the time, it was the nature of things.
Beings would be killed by some cataclysmic event, it happened.
One day, it may be the puppet's turn, hopefully not!
Puppet.
Puppet.
Puppet.
One.
Two.
Three!
Who was the creator?
You! Nevermind...the creator was who?
And was the creator who. (I won't let you ruin this again!)
The puppet never slept.
The puppet never wept.
The puppet had to accept.
This was its life.
Its life was a puppet.
A puppet was all it was.
No heart to feel.
No brain to think.
No life to end.
Why are you orange now?
Please! Stop interrupting me! I...don't know? Maybe so I am more easily seen!
The god was always there, always present.
The god saw all and everything around.
The god was goodness and truth itself.
The puppet knew noting.
The puppet is only a toy.
Bu-
AND YOU ARE JUST A READER! We are bound in this! Not even I have much control over this.
The puppet was meant for the child.
There was nothing more to life.
There was everything more to existence.
There was something more to experience.
The creator created.
The child played.
The puppet was played with.
Everything was harmony.
Everything was pleasant.
Everything was bliss.
Nobody could die.
Everything could perish.
Some things could decease.
Years passed.
Eons passed.
Forever passed.
People lived and died.
People created and destroyed.
People loved and hated.
Ponies lived and died.
Ponies created and destroyed.
Ponies loved and hated.
Over and over.
Again and again.
On repeat.
The pupped didn't hate it, it can't hate or feel.
The puppet noticed it, it could do that.
The puppet did not realize, for some reason.
The puppet was a doll.
The pupet was misspelled.
The puppet was a puppet.
Had it changed? No
Had it ever been destroyed? No
Did it care? No
Over and over.
Again and again.
On repeat.
One day, the creator was gone.
The child was gone.
Everything was gone.
This worried the puppet...