Her name was Eliza Tartt, but the crew just called her The Puppet Master.
She had brown, frizzy hair and large, thick round glasses. She stayed away from most of the cast and crew interaction, except to ask specific questions in regards to what they wanted from their puppets, otherwise she simply stayed in what the others referred to as "The Hole". It was her own private work station, far removed from the rest of the work stations, where she simply created puppets day in, day out, for the show. Once the series ended, except for Liam and Bea, everyone else stayed in contact with one another, except for The Puppet Master. Nobody heard from her again. Which is why, when Beatrice showed up at her home, she was stunned. Even though it'd been so long, she looked exactly the same, almost as if she were somehow frozen in time. Same buck front teeth, same frizzy hair, just now wearing loose fitting clothes since she wasn't working in a studio. Eliza hadn't answered the door, however, that had been her father. "Would you like to come inside? She'll be down in a minute," he said, leading Bea inside and towards the kitchen, where he offered her a cup of coffee, which she happily accepted as she seated herself at the kitchen table. "You have a lovely home," Bea said as he filled up her mug and handed it to her, watching as she sipped it cautiously. "Thank you! I've always enjoyed decorating," Don said, "My wife was an interior decorate for a long time before she retired, and she often employed my help," he added, chuckling. Just then, Eliza stepped in the doorframe that opened into the kitchen, and that was when Bea was struck by her immortal appearance. "Hiya," Bea said, waving slowly, as Eliza stood, braiding some of her hair, her eyes looking everywhere else besides at Beatrice. "I'll leave you ladies to discuss business, and please, have as much coffee as you want," Don said, leaving with his own mug. "Do you wanna sit down?" Bea asked, "This could take a while." "Could it?" Eliza asked, her speech fast and shaky, "Okay. I'll sit." "You look great," Beatrice said. "Do I? Do people change the way they look? I just always assumed people look the same forever, but then again I can't tell one persons face from another, so. You look the same. Just...older, sorry, that's rude. You should never tell a woman she looks old." "No," Beatrice laughed, "No, I appreciate it. Wiser is better than naive. How've things been?" "They've been," Eliza said, still refusing to look at her, "Um...why are you talking to me?" "I've been given an incredible opportunity," Beatrice said, "and I want you to come with me. We're bringing the show back, and this time it's my creative control. No outside advertising, no blatant pandering. Now is the time for creator owned content to shine. Liam and I got a deal at a streaming network for a new batch of episodes, and I can't imagine doing this without my shining star." "...you haven't talked to me in forever," Eliza muttered, "did I do something wrong?" This question punched Beatrice in the gut. "No, god no, I...Eliza, after what happened I just...vanished. I couldn't deal with anyone. I'm sorry I didn't stay in contact with you, but it wasn't like I forgot about you. Whenever people might find me, and if they were in the market for making their own things, I always directed them to you because I knew your work was so good. I don't know how much work that actually wound up netting you, but-" "I don't make puppets anymore," Eliza said. "Eliza-" "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I need to go," she said, getting up suddenly and running back up the staircase to her bedroom. As Bea sat and watched in stunned silence, Don re-entered the kitchen, sipping from his mug and eating a shortbread cookie, one of which he offered to Bea, and she graciously accepted. "What the fuck happened to her?" Bea asked softly, "I mean, she was always eccentric, that was why I liked her, but...what happened to her?" "...I guess things stopped being alright when her mom died," Don said. "I get that loss has an irreversible effect on people at times, lord knows I myself have experienced that first hand, but...but how could it-" "Because she thinks she killed her, Bea," Don said, sighing, "She thinks she killed her mother. And no matter what I say to her, she'll never believe otherwise." Beatrice went from looking at Don to looking back up the staircase, just wishing she could know what had destroyed her star. *** "You're playing with fire," Liam said, "You do realize that?" Stephanie sighed and sat back down at her desk, twisting open the lid on her bottle of water and taking a long sip. "Yeah, I do, but we have our set contracts, and we can't just back outright of them. We have people we hire to do this sort of work." "She won't work with anyone she doesn't trust," Liam said, "and frankly, I don't think I would either at this point." Stephanie, arms folded now, glanced from Liam to Michelle, seated beside him. "What about you? You know her too, what do you think? Could I sell her on this idea?" Stephanie asked. "I...I don't think it's a good idea. She already vanished for almost 20 years just thanks to another studio hurting her and trying to make her work into something it wasn't, and here she thinks she's safe, because you've told her as much. I think you need to honor that. She can't be hurt again, she can't..." Michelle said, sighing before saying, "...she can't lose Beatrice again." "How about this? How about half and half? She gets to hire the most important folks. The costume designer, prop maker, stuff like that. We choose the more film ground crew; editors, sound designers, stuff like that. That sound like a fair mix? This isn't us trying to hurt her, for what it's worth-" "We understand that," Liam said. "-it's about us having to honor pre-existing contracts we have with our workers," Stephanie said, "we're already doing a risky thing bringing back a kids show basically nobody ever heard of. In this day and age, when nostalgia sells like nothing else, to back something unheard of instead of a well known IP is kind of a shaky move, but we believe enough in the product and in your guys efforts to warrant the decision. That being said, Bea does not have the same clout as other successful saturday morning kids shows from the 90s." "Fair, and totally right," Liam said, "Alright, I'll talk to her about it, but she might not be happy." "We wanna keep her happy," Stephanie said, "But we also are legally obligated to keep everyone we work with happy, so." After the meeting ended, Liam and Michelle were heading down the hall and towards the parking lot, when Liam stopped and pumped a dollar bill into a vending machine for a snack pack of chips. Michelle took a puff from her inhaler and exhaled deeply. "This is beginning to feel like a mistake," Michelle said softly. "I'm annoyed too, but this is business, this is what it is. It isn't all about making dreams come true," Liam said, popping open the bag and eating a few chips as they continued walking, adding as he chewed, "and besides, I think what she offered was a fair enough deal; so long as Bea gets to pick the most crucial people, I think she'll continue to feel safe." "The thing I've learned in the past year, Liam, is that...the people you think are the most crucial are rarely the ones that actually are," Michelle said. *** "Eliza's always had...I don't wanna say 'problems', but, she's always been different," Don said, "When she was a little girl, she fell off a piece of playground equipment and hurt herself on the way down, hitting her head on a big piece of metal. As a result, she's...she's never really been the same. Not that she was exactly 'normal' before that. She was diagnosed with ADHD and a slew of other things but...that fall really did more than anything else did." "I never knew about this." "She doesn't talk about it, she's not embarrassed but...she doesn't think others should have to know," Don said, "and for the most part, I think she's right. Her mother took her to weekly therapy sessions for physical and mental therapy, because Eliza never learned to drive. One day they were on their way home after a particularly stressful session, and Eliza was just inconsolable about her lack of progress or what she perceived as lack of progress." "I don't like where this is going," Bea mumbled. "We've all heard the same story a million times, because it happens so often. It's a cliche for a reason, because it continues to occur. Rainy roads, loss of control, an accident, and eventually a death. My wife was my best friend, but losing her hurt Eliza more than it hurt me, and even I can openly acknowledge that. After that she stopped working on puppets entirely, and now she doesn't do much except play with her model trains." "...I just always thought she was weird, in a good way, not...I don't know." "Damaged?" "I don't think damaged is the right word, because that insinuates there's something wrong with her, and there's not, she's just different," Beatrice said, making Don smile wide. "You really are good at boosting a kids self esteem," he said, making Bea chuckle. "I should get going," Bea said, "If she changes her mind, please let me know." "Will do." Bea got up, pulled her coat back on, threw her scarf around her neck and headed out the front door, Don leaning in the doorframe as he watched her descend down his porch. After a moment, she stopped and turned back to face him. "You know," Bea said, "When we were in studio back in the day, I sectioned off an area specifically for her to work in, called The Hole. Nobody else ever went there, and she had the entire place to herself, far removed from everyone else. I just assumed she was a weird hermit, a sort of creative savant, and I respected her for that. I haven't lost that respect upon learning this, but...it makes a lot of things a lot more clear in regards to her behavior. I guess I felt protective of her, because I felt like I could relate to her. Just two weird girls making weird shit. I hope she comes around. You have my number." "I do," Don said, smiling, "And thanks for everything you've done." With that, he shut the door, watching Beatrice get into her car and drive away. After he saw her car turn the corner, he headed up the stairs and opened the door to Eliza's bedroom; it was filled with puppets she'd made over the years, and of course, model train tracks and small towns made of miniatures. She didn't even look up from him as he sat on her bed, and instead she continued to paint a small tree she was planning on inserting on a hillside. "I know that might have been stressful, and I apologize for that," Don said, "Um...are you okay?" "Okay," Eliza said flatly. "There's something I think you should know," Don said, "...Bea paid for everything after the show ended. She continually sent money to help you stay afloat. Most of your therapy was paid for by her, even if she didn't know that was what the money was being spent on. Now I'm not saying this so you'll feel guilty and work for her again, but I want you to know that, yes, the world is cruel a lot of the time, especially to vulnerable people like you...but there's also those elite few who really do care, Eliza. Beatrice loves you. She loves your work. Just like you mom and I do." Eliza stopped and looked at her dad. "...I don't know that I know how to make," Eliza said, stuttering, "I...I'm scared I won't be good anymore. What if she isn't happy with me? Most people aren't happy with me." "She came to get you specifically because she believes in your work," Don said, smiling, adding, "You're just as capable as you ever were. She told me she's best friends with a young woman who has breathing problems and often uses oxygen tanks. She works with people the rest of society considers broken because she sees that just because they have cracks doesn't mean they're broken. It means they're strong. To be that supposedly damaged and still going? That's power to her. Whatever you wanna do is fine by me, but I...I just don't want to see you give up a chance to do something great because you don't believe you're capable of it, when I know fully well you are more than capable of it." Don stood up, kissed his daughter on the head and left the room. Eliza looked around the room at all the puppets, sighing, still braiding her hair as she usually did when nervous. What would mom do? *** Beatrice was sitting in her apartment that evening, eating a sandwich as she listened to old jazz records and read a big book of paintings and their meanings. She'd always looked art books. She always found things in these deep dives to apply to her own work ethic, and she appreciated that. As she chewed, there was a knock on her door, and she stood up. It was probably Michelle, as she had said she'd stop by to discuss the meeting with Stephanie, but when Bea finally opened the door, she was surprised to find Eliza standing there. "Oh!" Bea said, taken aback, "...Hi! Do you wanna come in?" Eliza nodded, and Bea stepped aside, allowing her to enter. "I'm sorry," Eliza said, "Um, I'm afraid of disappointing you. I don't wanna disappoint you. I always wanted you to be proud of me." "I was always proud of you. You made me realize how important it was to connect with people the rest of society has thrown away and ignored. The sick, the ill, the damaged. Eliza, I don't wanna pressure you into this job, I just-" "I wanna do it," Eliza said, "but, I'm not...mmm..." She paced before sitting on the couch, leaving Bea standing and staring at her. "Can I tell you a story?" Bea asked, and Eliza nodded as Bea finally sat down beside her; she continued, "a little over a year and a half ago, I met a young woman named Michelle. At first, I considered her to just be another overly enthusiastic fan, but...I quickly saw the value of what she saw value in, and I saw that because I saw that same enthusiasm in you and what you do. Michelle remade the set to the show in her basement. That level of commitment...I'd only ever seen it from one other person, and that person was you, Eliza. You won't be alone. Michelle will really like you, just like I do, and Liam does." "...dad told me you paid for everything," she said. "I did. I knew whatever the money from the network would be wouldn't be much, and I...I just felt like you deserved to be more well taken care of. Your passion for what you do reminded me so much of myself, so yeah, I sent monthly checks to your family. I didn't know until today that they were likely paying for medical expenses and whatnot, but..." She paused and sighed. "...it doesn't matter what they were used for. The point is the money was for you, and it went to helping you. I would do anything for the people who matter to me. Michelle knows this too. Vulnerable, different women in society are so often taken advantage of, and if all my work in life has been for nothing else than to show that they deserve better, than that's been worth the effort alone. Sure, a dog is mans best friend, but Beatrice Beagle is womens best friend." Eliza smiled, and threw her arms around Bea, squeezing her tightly. "I missed you," she whispered, crying against her shoulder. Bea stroked her back and sighed. "I missed you too, sweetheart," Bea said, "I'm sorry I wasn't more involved. I promise, I won't ever leave you again. I'm nothing if not loyal." *** Michelle and Liam were standing in the parking lot of the streaming studio, eating breakfast together, waiting for everyone else to arrive. Liam bit into a breakfast biscuit from a nearby fast food place and moaned deeply. "You don't have to sound like you're having sex with it," Michelle said, making him almost choke from laughing. "I just really enjoy it! I never eat garbage like this, so it's nice sometimes to remind myself how bad it is for me while enjoying how good it tastes," Liam said. Suddenly a car pulled up and parked. The door opened and Eliza stepped out, her hair fully done up in braids. She was wearing overalls and big clunky shoes. Beatrice got out of the drivers side and walked around between Eliza and the other two. "Eliza, this is Michelle, and you remember Liam," she said. "It's nice to meet you," Eliza said, holding out her hand so Michelle could shake it, which she happily did. "You too, I like your braids!" "Beatrice did them this morning," Eliza said, giggling, before glancing at Liam and adding, "It's nice to see you again." "It's great to see you Eliza." "So, let's get to work guys, we got a show to write," Bea said, clapping her hands together as she lead the group inside the studio, all cracking jokes together on the way in, knowing this would be a wonderful work environment. *** "This is it," Bea said, opening the door to area, "The Hole." Eliza, young and bright eyed, walked inside, carrying some of her equipment. "It's big!" she said. "It is big, yes," Beatrice said, "This is your space, and nobody else's. Feel free to decorate it, and just generally do whatever the hell you want. Passion projects? Go for it. Just be sure to get your work for the show done too." "Absolutely!" Eliza said, her buck teeth lisping her speech a little, "Thank you Beatrice!" Bea smiled and left the room, leaving Eliza to make The Hole her own little home, and she did. She made it her own space, and she loved it. Years later, upon tearing it all down, it felt like she was breaking herself down as well, and she never really recovered from that. The last time she saw The Hole was the saddest moment of her life, and she cried for days. She thought nothing would ever top this grief, until her mother died, and she realized the difference between creation and loss. One you chose, and one you didn't. And after her discussion with her father and Bea, she knew which was the one she wanted to fight for.
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Beatrice Beagle follows a young woman obsessed with a defunct pizzeria and kids show featuring a dog mascot. As she uncovers more about its mysterious past, she becomes sucked into the life of the woman who played the mascot, they both discover just how much they need eachother. Archives
April 2024
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