Day 4: Beneath The Mask



I wondered what was underneath that mask.

 It was painted in bright colours to look cheap and plastic but the material looked thick and metallic, as though the whole thing was an iron cage strapped to his head. There were thick black eyebrows drawn on above the slits that were carved out for his eyes. By staring at him long enough I was able to tell that both irises were different shades of blue, and one eye was distinctly fogged over.

The rest of the mask was smooth, coloured in yellow and pink. Bright red lips were painted near the bottom, although by the small size of the beast’s head, it couldn’t be anywhere near his actual mouth. No, the mask was too big for his face, but by the grunts he made it sounded as though he was gagged or the iron forced him into silence.

There was something desperate about him. The man raised by wolves, now kept in a cage, for all to see. Although with his size I sometimes wondered if he was a man at all.

Each time I had come to visit he had tried to stand for me, but the chains that bound him only allowed him to crawl on his knees. He backed away, far enough that I wouldn’t be able to reach him, wouldn’t be able to hurt him. It had taken a while to earn his trust, for him to now hold his face mere inches from mine.

I touched it then. It was colder than I imagined, and as I ran my hand to the back off the mask I felt the end of the metal that bound him, the straps that buckled it to his face, but perhaps most shockingly I felt a thick patch of hair. To my horror, as I ran my hand down a little further, I was surprised to find the hair had no end, as if his entire neck and back was covered in it.

Something that resembled a cry came out of the figure’s mouth.

I was now desperate to find what was under that mask. “A few more days,” I promised. A few more days and I would finally find out.

 ////

 I can't draw, but I couldn't find any masks to take a picture of. Also I wanted something unsettling, so not a carnival mask or a superhero costume. I needed something creepy, sinister, something that didn't exist. I love this story. I love the fact I was inspired by The Greatest Showman, a movie that is suppose to be happy, and I love that it's still ambiguous what is underneath the mask. 

I wrote this on a bus to university, and immediately went into a class to talk about Oliver Twist, so I'm not even sure what's under there, but maybe one day I'll find out. Alternatively, feel free to tell me, finish the story, write some mask fanfiction. 

 This was Day 4 of my NaNoWriMo project where I am writing a new short story every day in November! Originally all of these were posted to instagram, but the 300 word limit was a little confining so I've come here to post everything I've written and a little bit more! 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Secret Notes

Image
To the side of the bookcase in the spare room, slotted right down the narrow crack between shelf and wall, there are tiny folded bits of paper. If you are small enough to squeeze a finger in, or resourceful enough to fish around with a coat hanger, you can take them out. Each one contains a different message, carries a different emotion. They are there to be read, but it’s vital they are put back in place, lest they fall into the wrong hands. The first note Sam had found when his little brother had stolen his fiddle from its case and when he found it, the bridge was cracked and there was a long scratch down the centre. His mother had waved away his compliant, explaining Aiden was only young, and after all, it wouldn’t be that expensive to replace, but she didn’t seem to understand the principle of the thing. He had come to the spare room, because his bedroom didn’t have a lock, and attempted to hide himself away. Sulking with his back against the door, he noticed a l...
Read more

So go, be daring - (I graduated!)

Image
  “It’s better to err on the side of daring than the side of caution. So go, be daring.”  I never uploaded pictures of my undergraduate graduation. It was one of the worst days of my life and I can’t look at the photos without seeing all the sadness that I was tucking deep down inside myself. I couldn’t understand why I was supposed to be happy. It felt like a funeral for my old life, where all my friends were going off to bright futures and I truly didn't believe I had one. I had never lived without a plan before and I didn’t believe I could. I wanted to go to my masters graduation because I got it. Finally. I understood why this is a celebration. Why it’s not the ending to my story.  I didn’t graduate as anything. I’m not a doctor or a lawyer or a nurse or an engineer. There is no set path for me to follow, I have to carve it myself. And yes that is terrifying.  But I am brave.  I have realised I have it in me to forge my own path.  The chancellor to...
Read more

Day 10: The Duck Pond

Image
Every day he passed the duck pond. It was in the park between his wife’s job in the hospital, and his job at the bank. He used to always take the scenic route into work with her, through the park and past the pond, dropping her off at the edge of the fence, then briskly racing back through the paths so as not to be late for work. On dry afternoons they would take lunch together and eat it opposite the ducks. He always packed a sandwich with chicken and lettuce, an apple, a small yogurt, and of course some seeds for the ducks. It gave him endless amounts of pleasure, watching the little things waddle to him, collect their food and scramble back to the safety of the water. Springtime was always his favourite, when the baby ducklings would scarcely step onto the grass at first, but after a few weeks would grow and warm to him enough to take food inches from his feet. Most people didn’t understand his obsession. His colleagues were continually confused to find he had once again abandone...
Read more