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The Mask: Part IV

The first thing I remember is feeling warmth from the sunlight on my back. Pressed against the hardwood floor, I was suddenly aware of how much my body ached. Slowly I got on my hands and knees and gathered the strength to stand up. As the blood rushed through my limbs so did the events from the night before. My forehead pulsed as I squinted from the sunlight.

Nothing made sense. How long was I out? Thoughts of insanity played in my head on a loop. The repetition filled me with dread. A tightness spread from my chest to my fingertips. I didn’t understand.

I took in my surroundings. My bedroom door was shut; I clearly had not been found.

The mask was missing, something I didn’t want to accept. Surely it never existed. Perhaps I had finally split the way I feared. Perhaps I spiraled down the rabbit hole, witnessing the pieces of life I lost on the way down.

There are few feelings that are so easily recalled. Smells and sounds can be tied to an exact moment in time. Sensations can even retrieve distinct memories, programmed into your senses. This I’ve only felt once.

A whisper snaked its way to my ears. It slowly spiraled around my head and I breathed the incense deeply. The smallest of whispers so naturally slid it’s way down my throat and billowed in the pit of my stomach. The anxiety burned into embers and they floated through my veins.

I felt a humming and, suddenly, a release. My thoughts quieted to silence, my mind blank. I knew my body was cold, but I could not feel it. It was as if I had taken 10 steps back into my own head, viewing life through a veiled window. Something in me understood.

I moved to stand in front of the mirror. I watched eyes blink back at me, curious and confused. Such subtle changes to my nose, eyebrows, and chin had been made. It could have been a sister with far sharper features and piercing black eyes. I felt my heart jump in my chest but I was not at liberty to act upon it. The disconnect between us was clear. My hands raised and felt around the edges of the face, unsure if it was my action or hers. The mask had melted into my skin and warped it entirely with such smooth application; it could not be undone.

The front door clicked loudly and broke my stupor. My mother had finally come home from the night before which meant I should have definitely been at school by then. The realization that I was home without my own face sunk in.

Small murmurs from my mother’s movements reached my ears – soft steps with a slight stumble, the clanging of keys on a wooden table. I felt the need to hide, but there wasn’t much choice. There wasn’t enough room under the twin bed and the closet felt too obvious. She came down the hall. I wondered if my closed door would arouse suspicion.

It was almost disappointing when she lumbered by. My breath stayed steady and quiet as she entered her bedroom and shut the door. My body stood still in front of the mirror while my thoughts ran in circles behind those eyes. The ray of sunlight slid up the bedroom door letting me know at least half an hour had passed. It was time for me to leave.

I looked at the reflection in the mirror and saw my jeans and shoes were muddy from the day before. I was damp and my skin was cold. Smoothly and carefully I approached the closet to gather some clean clothes. Every movement was methodical, everything I did was with purpose. It was all the more clear that I wasn’t alone.

I left my bedroom quietly and took care to not to make the floor creak. The snores continued through my mother’s bedroom door. The clock on the stove said 11:17. I wondered if anyone at school had noticed I was gone, I wondered if my dear friend noticed.

I prickled with heat. The fury returned, I felt it in my throat. Still, I left the house with ease. On the porch I paused to breathe the cold air in deeply.

A voice hissed inside my head where I hid behind my eyes. Their words were in a language I felt more than I heard.

Return without fear

We walked off together down the road, determined to retrace our steps. The miles passed quickly as a passenger. The rain had stopped yesterday and the air was so fresh it burned to breathe. In the distance the school approached. Lunch would begin soon, a miserable lonely affair. We wouldn’t be attending, not yet.

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The Mask: Part Three

The walk home felt long. My steps pounded into the pavement at a rhythmic thud as the mask rubbed against my hips. I threw my hood on and shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

I knew already the burden of what I was carrying despite what I’ve said since. Secrets weigh heavy on the soul. When you know you’ve done something you shouldn’t, but no one will ever know, did it still happen?

I reached home just as it began to get dark. I fluttered up the steps towards the porch light above the door. Inside it was dark still, my mother would not be home for several hours. I crossed the small living room and headed straight to the hallway that led to my bedroom.

I switched on the lamp at my cluttered desk. Quickly, I stacked the stray notebooks pages onto one another and moved them to the side. I took the mask from the waistband and laid it flat on the desk. It stared at me from the empty black pits. Flipping it over, I tried to see through the mask from behind, but it was smooth on the back as if there weren’t any eye or mouth holes at all. This wasn’t possible. I felt my heart pump and my breath become shallow.

Turning the mask around, I shoved my thumbs into the black holes. They went right through, but not to the other side. The sensation of nothingness on the tips of my thumbs was unbearable. Not even able to manage a shriek, I flung the mask to the floor.

Slowly I backed up, not removing my gaze from those bottomless black holes. I couldn’t even if I wanted to; I was captive. Perhaps the curse begun then, but I know that’s not true.

I stood there for hours I think. I couldn’t form a single complete thought. The mask called to me and I wanted to understand. I would like to believe that I did not have a choice. That, however, will never be certain because after an unknown amount of time I got down on one knee and peeled the mask from the floor.

A tall and narrow mirror leaned against the wall next to my bedroom closet. I moved my heavy legs to stand in front of it drunkenly. They say power intoxicates.

I gazed directly into my brown eyes as I lifted the mask up to my face. As I smoothed it over, it melted into my skin and I could no longer see. A panic rushed into my chest. I couldn’t breathe either. It suctioned on to me and was impossible to grip. I was a prison in my own head, my breath unable to escape. I fell to my knees and tried to rip at my skin with my fingernails. My heart pounded and pounded until I lost the ability to struggle and collapsed to the floor.

The next morning I finally woke up.

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The Mask: Part Two

Sharing my writing publicly is a challenge. I am often too afraid of diving into things without a perfect plan and that has held me back. But, I have given myself a task and I plan to see it through to the end.

Here is part two of my short story, The Mask.

Hope you enjoy!

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I lived in my own sphere. It was a mist that steadily showered onto my surroundings. Everything around me was covered in a low cloud. I could feel it on my skin as if my dimension was a shade colder. This was something I learned from my mother. She kept herself wrapped in a warm blanket of substances. Functional enough, but always distant. Something was missing in her gaze.

She bartended every night in pursuit of the only passion she had. I was always alone. I think she resented me. I was an accident and a reflection of her pain and failure. She couldn’t be a parent to me.

Isolation makes solutions seem impossible. Certain things can’t be dealt with alone. I didn’t believe that though.

Shame bubbled inside of me. That rat was me – low, dirty, deranged. I took each step with purpose. I made an even pace out of the front entrance to the school. A storm raged inside my throat. How dare she?

As I walked I felt the mist clear. Suddenly, I felt too much. My steps became hurried, my legs shook with every step. I finally broke out into a run across the parking lot toward the wooded area along the edge. The trees yawned open and called me in. I ran and ran until I crashed straight into a tree. I gripped the bark with my fingernails, painfully scratching at my nail beds. I bashed my hands against the trunk until they were raw and let out a scream.

My carefully crafted matrix came crashing down. I threw my head back as tears streamed down my cheeks. I don’t know how long I stood there until the shuddering came to a stop. A different kind of coldness took over, the cold reality of clarity. My shadow felt heavy.

Finally, I heaved deep breaths until it steadied. I let my eyes take in the view of the grass and trees. A stream trickled lightly further ahead. My legs felt weighted as I slowly walked forward. My head was as silent as the trees. The water was the only sound I could hear.

I knelt into the damp mud next to stream, feeling the dirt and moisture through my jeans. I stayed there with my red and burning hands resting on my thighs as I gazed into the stream. Minutes ticked by but rage hummed inside me. How dare she?

Who decided I deserve this? I should be the one who decides. Except revenge doesn’t work for people like me. If I could get away with it just once, I would never be bothered again.

There I was, still as stone, channeling the heat inside my blood through my eyes. Until, suddenly, I saw past the surface of the running water right into the shallow bottom of the stream. There laid an opaque silicone mask. It was disturbingly smooth and clean as if the ground underneath had not touched it. The gaping eye and mouth holes led to pitch darkness, three black holes.

It jolted me out of my stupor. I felt goosebumps rise on my arms and back as it looked into my eyes. It glowed slightly, calling me to reach forward. My hand stung as I dipped it into the cold water and grasped that slimy smooth surface.

It was bone dry out of the water. That should have been enough for me to understand that something was wrong, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from those unexplainable black holes. It was meant for me. I needed to take it home.

I tucked it into the waistband of my jeans and left.

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The Mask: Part 1

This Halloween season has inspired me to write a short scary story. I am going to post it in parts as I write it as a way to encourage myself to finish it. Accountability! I hope you enjoy!

<Warning: This will contain gore and some triggering content such as bullying, self harm, violence.>

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I just wanted it to stop.

People are cruel sometimes for reasons no one understands. I didn’t fit in well. No matter what I said it or did it was taken the wrong way. Everything was carefully skewed to fit the narrative that something is fucking wrong with me.

“Psycho ass bitch.” She practically whispered it to me as she shoved my head against the wall. I felt the bang reverberate in my neck as I dropped my binder to the floor. She let go of her grip on my skull and stomped away, pleased with hurting me. I stared at the back of her head as she threw it back and laughed. I wish I could hurt her back, but here I was too weak and afraid to do a thing.

We were friends once and it kept me weak. I think she knew that. Who knows, she would never explain.

I tried asking. I practically begged. “Why aren’t we friends anymore? What happened?” She laughed and said I was stupid for thinking we were friends in the first place. I cried so much that day. I don’t know. I don’t know. At some point I started to question if I made it all up. Am I insane?

It had been going on for months. From what I understand she heard from a friend through a friend that something was wrong with me. Summer vacation was always hard for me. I hated being stuck at home. It wasn’t something I chose, but I guess enough isolation gives people the time to make up a story. I was in the psych ward, I was a recluse, I hated people. That’s what they said.

The first day of school I walked up to her and said hi and tried to give her a hug. She looked at me like she never had before. So full of disgust. She was always a beautiful girl but I could tell she had really come into her own. Full of confidence and dressed in fresh new clothes. I was given some new shirts and pants but nothing I could feel good in. Just new clothes, for a new year, and I better make them last.

Ever since then I kept to myself, tried to avoid the spit fire thrown in my direction. It’s not that I wasn’t angry, I felt the anger every day. It creeped under my skin and made me itch. I was just around anger so much that I wanted to hold it in. I saw what it did to people. It made them different, made them hurt others. I didn’t have much I felt proud of beyond my self control.

That self control started to wane thin. Those words started to crawl under my skin and poison my blood. It wasn’t fair and it didn’t make sense and why why why couldn’t I have a sense of peace?

I rushed to my locker as soon as the bell rang. I wanted to get home. Home felt empty, but it was a type of suffocation I felt safe in. I pulled down the handle and wrenched it open. There it was, the ending to my patience.

Laying directly on top of my light blue back pack was a dead rat. It looked like it had been ripped apart by an animal. Its intestines sprawled across, dried blood dripping down onto my bag.

Something in me broke that day. A coldness spread across my chest and constricted it. I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw everything from my locker and dig my fingers into her eye sockets. I wanted her to scream too.

Instead, I closed the locker shut and left.