A good day of the week to upload the next piece of my story, that is.
So every Monday, you now have something to look forward to! Yay Mondays!
Anyways, enough chit chat. Here is part two of my short story!
Charlie was in love. He had seen a girl who looked so
innocent, her face was like the face of an angel. She had passed by him on the
other side of the street, but her countenance had caught his glance. So pure;
so unlike the rest of the world. That was the kind of girl he wanted to marry.
So Charlie set out to discover who she was.
He began
watching for the girl near the place where he had spotted her. She had been
walking near a dark alley, in what Charlie considered to be the more
intimidating area of the city. But the thought that an innocent young woman did
not belong in intimidating places did not occur to him.
The sun
began to sink low one evening as Charlie was hanging around, hoping to spot the
girl. The sound of children shrieking caught his ear, and he followed the noise
into a small alleyway.
Three
little children played in the street. Collin had an old expensive watch on his
wrist that he had pulled out of a dumpster. The hands on it no longer moved. Polly
cradled a small antique doll with dirt-encrusted hair and a chipped face. Lucas
was the “keeper of the torch”, and their self-appointed leader. He kept a small
flashlight in his jacket pocket, to guide them home after dark.
They
belonged to Mrs. Peers, who kept them in an orphanage, one block past Doppler
Street. Mrs. Peers didn’t like them coming home after dark, so every night when
they returned, she scolded them. The children did not like Mrs. Peers, so every
night until dark, they stayed outside.
They played
in the alleyway, screaming and chasing after one another. Collin tripped in the
dim light and landed on his bottom.
“Oww!” he
squealed.” “It’s too late to be playing outside! Look! The sky is dark, that
means it’s time to go back.”
Lucas shone
his flashlight in the chubbier boy’s face.
“Ow! Hey!”
Collin complained to his lanky companion.
“We’ll be
fine, Worrywart,” Lucas assured him. “I have a light.”
“Bu, bu
but…Mrs. Peers will be angry!” Collin very wisely pointed out.
“Oh she
always is,” Polly piped up. “That old grouch will be fine.”
“Wait!
What’s that?” Collin jumped at the sound of approaching footsteps. They were
playing in an alleyway near the darker side of the city. Generally, no adults
bothered them over here, but the encroaching steps sounded heavy.
“Shh!”
Lucas whispered. The steps drew closer, followed by a kindly looking young man
with dark locks of hair. His expression was open and friendly. Collin and Polly
jumped at his appearance, but Lucas thought he looked trustworthy.
“Who are
you, sir?” he asked the young adult. The man was surprised to find the three
children, but his curiosity nudged him to learn more about them.
“My name’s
Charlie,” he smiled. “What game are you guys playing?”
“Don’t talk
to strangers!” Collin immediately blurted out. But Lucas ignored him.
“We are
hunters, going off to fight the beast and protect the fair maiden!” he
admitted.
“And are
you the fair maiden?” Charlie raised Polly’s hand and kissed it. She blushed.
He turned toward the boys. “I see two strapping young warriors here, but where
is this beast of which you speak?” he asked them.
Lucas and
Collin looked at each other and shrugged.
“I suppose
he’s just imaginary,” Lucas said.
“Just imaginary!”
Charlie balked. “There is no such thing as just imaginary. Anything that you
can imagine can become real.”
He crouched
down and began hobbling toward them. “If you imagine that you are a beast, with
fangs dripping with venomous saliva,” he snarled and looked up at them. “If you
imagine that you have the strength to take whatever you want,” he raised
himself to his full height. “If you imagine that you can catch two little boys
who think they can outrun you,” he jumped at them and started playfully
chasing. Lucas and Collin shrieked and ran to the corner. Polly giggled.
“Then you
can.” Charlie smiled. “You can be anything you imagine.”
He began
hobbling around the alleyway, pretending to hunt the boys. They grabbed sticks
and fought back, while Polly watched amusedly from the sidelines, cradling her
chipped doll.
Some may
have thought the scene strange. Some may have judged the grown man for acting
like a child. But the children did not. The children accepted him as one of
their own.
Rebekah
slipped inside, hoping her mother would not see her.
“It’s about
time you came home,” her mother called from the living room. Rebekah cringed.
“Where were you?” her mother asked.
“I just had
to take care of something,” Rebekah answered, and headed toward her room. Her
mother came out into the hall; Rebekah lowered her face.
“I don’t
like it when you stay out all night,” her mother said.
“Mother,
it’s ten o’clock. I’d hardly call that all night,” she replied.
“Yes, well
something might happen! And how would I know?”
“I’m sure
you’d find some way to know.” Rebekah did not like talking to her mother. She
always felt that her mom did not approve of anything she did. She had hoped the
mask would free her from judgments, but with her mother staring at her, she
felt even more trapped. Whoever Rebekah wanted to be was hidden inside, not
wanting to reveal herself for disapproval. But her mother wouldn’t fall for the
façade. All Rebekah foresaw was a fresh
batch of judgments for the phony flesh.
“I’m going
to bed, mom,” Rebekah ducked past her into the bedroom.
That night,
Rebekah couldn’t sleep. Her body thrashed about on the bed, trying to procure a
comfortable position, but none was to be found. Rebekah had used to lull herself
to sleep by dreaming of roses dancing on hillsides. But the skin pulling
against her face was so stiff that her thoughts could not escape from her mind.
They remained stifled inside, unable to form into images and dreams.
The mask pulled
so tightly, her skin started burning. Her hands clenched subconsciously and her
fingers clawed at the skin. She lay in a dreamlike state, clawing and clawing
at the mask that would not come off.
“Take it
off!” she desperately yelled to the painted man the next morning. He looked at
her, amused.
“Take it
off! Please, please take it off!” She
was screaming so passionately her voice cracked and sounded inhuman.
“The masks
don’t come off.” He sat calmly, explaining the process to her. “You knew this
when you ordered it.”
She
clambered across the room and fell at his feet. His countenance remained
unmoved.
“Please,”
she whispered. Her large, sad eyes tried unsuccessfully to peer out from the
mask into his own. All he saw was prosthetics.
“Look sweetheart,”
he leaned down and spoke over the figure on the floor. “This mask is who you
are now. This is how people are going to view you. Use that.”
She tilted
her head in a quizzical manner.
“You have a
power over people now. As long as nobody knows who you really are, you can
manipulate them to believe you’re somebody else. They will be jealous of your
life; they will envy you. People will flock to you to learn your secrets; they
may even pay you for those secrets.”
Rebekah
began to smile, as her restricted mind grasped the possibilities.
“As long as
nobody sees who you are,” he reiterated. “As long as they never see your
weaknesses.”
“Have you
ever let anybody see your weaknesses?” Rebekah asked him.
He smiled
smugly and leaned over into her ear. “I don’t have any weaknesses,” he
whispered. Rebekah’s heart skipped a beat as the strong man’s breath fell over
her face.
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