Ventrilocked

Mohit elbowed his way to the backstage.

He just had to go shake the ventriloquist’s hands. He had never quite seen such a performance.

The green-room and the other rooms were quite a distance from the main stage. He had to go around a bit. The darned corridors didn’t have any lights either. And most of the rooms along the way were closed. So which one was it? Finally, he saw light seeping from the last room and heard a voice. Ah, that one. The door was open, just a bit. He peeped curiously. The ventriloquist was sitting on the bed, his back to the door, speaking in that funny voice. Mohit was impressed. The show was barely over, and this guy was back to practicing. No wonder, the dedication showed.

But there was someone else in the room as well. He could sense movement. He quietly pushed open the door some more.

Then his saliva turned into a large piece of rock and refused to move down his throat.

The puppet walked over to the bed, hauled the ventriloquist over his head, opened a trunk and stuffed him in.

“Nobody needs to know our little secret, eh, partner?” He said, shutting the trunk with a loud clank.

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