The Masquerade

Her hot breath steamed against the glass, fogging the window of the shop.  She stamped her boots on the snow powdered pavement in a vain effort to keep warm, and wrung her gloved hands that were losing feeling.  Yet she didn’t want to leave, though the time was slipping quickly away and she needed to get back to work.

People passed behind her in the street.  They glanced at her and at the faces in the window.  She could see their reflections in the glass as they passed by shaking their heads.  She knew it was foolish to want one, and she knew she could never afford it with her already stretched budget.  To pretend and wish cost her nothing, though, at least not any money, only the contentment she used to have in her heart. 

Inside the shop faces stared back at her.  Unseeing faces with black, hollow eyes staring up at her from their place in the display.  She knew those eyes couldn’t see her, yet she couldn’t help shuddering.  They seemed so real even with their hollow eyes. 

A man pushed against her as he passed by on the street.  She stumbled forward and caught herself on the glass leaving streaks with her wet gloves.

“Watch it, lady,” he growled.  She turned to see him walking away leaving a trail of footprints in the white snow.

“I’m sorry,” she stuttered, but the man acknowledged her no more.

Over the gray city a bell began to toll. 

One o-clock. 

A curse escaped her lips, and she turned and ran down the street.

               

“Late again, Cassandra,” the lady in the next cubicle admonished.  She shook her finger as Cassandra tossed her gloves in her desk.  Cassandra knocked the snow from her boots and sat down.

“Lost track of time,” Cassandra said, smiling.

“I had to cover for you again,” the lady said, shaking her head.

“Thanks, Claire.”

Claire pushed her long, blond hair back from her face.  “Looking at those masks again?”

Cassandra nodded her head and glanced up at her friend.  “I grabbed some lunch, too.”

Claire sighed.  “You should just forget those things.  They’re far too expensive for what they pay us here.”
“I know, but it can’t hurt just to look.”

“If you don’t start getting back on time it could hurt.  Besides, the temperature is still dropping outside you could catch cold standing out there.”

“Thanks, ‘mom’,” Cassandra said, rolling her eyes.

Claire smiled guiltily and disappeared behind the wall of the cubicle.

 

“See you tomorrow, Cassandra,” Claire called as she slipped into her cab.

Cassandra waved and started walking the other way.  A light snow had begun to fall, dusting her jacket and hair with tiny white flakes.  She hurried on through the crowded streets.  Her feet were already freezing, her useless boots doing little to keep them warm.  She knew she should hurry home, but she wanted to pass the shop and look in the window just once more that day.

Every moment she had been at work pouring over stacks of papers she’d thought of the masks.  The hollow black eyes, the perfect alabaster skin, and the rose petal lips.  So lifelike and so beautiful.  She had to see them in their perfection just once more.  She hurried on through the streets till the shop finally came in view. 

All the masks were still there.  They had waited for her and greeted her arrival with hollow stares.  Yet, as she pressed close against the glass she could almost see them smile, like they knew her heart’s desire.  Eyes open, she could see their beautiful perfection.  Eyes closed, she could imagine the smooth skin at her fingertips.

“You come here everyday,” a deep voice spoke.

Cassandra opened her eyes.  An elderly man wrapped in an enormous winter coat stood halfway out of the shop door.  He smiled warmly at Cassandra as his breath swirled in front of him.

“This is my shop, young lady,” he said.  “And I see you everyday as you look at my masks.  Do you like them?”

“Oh, yes, sir.  They’re so pretty.”

“Just pretty?”  He sounded hurt.

“Perfect, really.”  Cassandra blushed.

“Yes, that’s the right word.  Perfect.  Captivating.  Do you want one?”

Cassandra bit her lip.  “I don’t think I could afford one, sir.”

“That’s not what I asked.  I asked if you wanted one.”

“Yes, but as I said…”

He put a hand up and stopped her.  “Wait here.”  He went back inside the shop and Cassandra looked back in the window and shivered.  It was so cold.

In a few moments the man returned carrying a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine.  He presented it to Cassandra, and she reached out cautiously to take it.

“What is it?” she asked, doubting the answer she already knew.

“One of my masks, of course.”

“How much?”

“It’s free.”

Quickly she pulled her hands back.  “Oh, no.  I couldn’t.  I mean, they are so expensive!”

“It doesn’t matter,” he chuckled.  “I want you to have it.”

Cassandra started at him, unbelieving.  It all seemed too good to be true.

Seeing her hesitation the old man thrust the package into her arms.  “Take it.”

She did.

“Tell you what, there’s a party next month I’m hosting.  All my customers will be there, why don’t you come too?  I’ll send you an invitation.”

He smiled, turned, and walked quickly off down the street.

Cassandra paused for a moment.  Everything was happening too quickly.

“Wait!” she called out, but the man turned the corner and was gone.  “You don’t even know my name.”

 

Cassandra sat on the floor of her apartment the package unopened beside her and a mirror leaning against the wall.  She suddenly wondered if she should open the package.  Maybe it wasn’t a mask inside; maybe it was a bomb.

He didn’t even know her name so the party invitation was obviously a hoax.  This package could be too.  It didn’t even make sense for him to give such an expensive thing and expect nothing in return.  Dozens of people probably looked in the window of his shop.  Why would he decide to give her a mask instead of one of them?

Cassandra was brought out of her musing by the fact that she had cut the twine and torn the paper off the package. 

“When did I do that?” she laughed.  “Well, it hasn’t exploded yet.  Might as well open it.”

Carefully she opened the lid of the cardboard box just a crack and peered inside.  She couldn’t see anything so she just tore the lid off the box.  If she was going to be blown to pieces, she was going to get it over with quickly.

Out of the box a perfect mask stared up at her with hollow black eyes.  It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever laid eyes on.  It was even better than the ones in the window.  Gently she touched the smooth surface, rubbing the back of her fingers along the cheek.  She shuddered in ecstasy.  It was as soft as real skin.

Gingerly she picked it up from the tissue paper.  It remained rigid even though the skin was soft.  Cassandra turned to the mirror and held the mask in front of her own face.  She looked through the eyeholes at her reflection.  The mask was perfect now that it had her blue eyes looking through it.  She stared for a moment and then noticed the strange interior. 

Unlike the outside of the mask, the inside was an ugly mess of wires and tiny needles.  She rubbed her hand along the sharp spines inside the mask.  Would they pierce her skin when she put the mask on? 

Sensors.  The word came suddenly into her mind.

She laughed at her foolishness.  They weren’t needles; they were sensors.  The masks were designed to look, feel and act just like a real face.  If the mask was to move with her own emotions, there needed to be sensors to read her own facial movements.

She laughed again, this time louder.  She’d seen it in the advertisement: Sensors.

She held the mask up to her face again.  Her reflection looked so perfect in the mirror with the mask instead of her own face.  The mask was so beautiful; it was so perfect--why had she waited so long to buy one?

Cassandra placed the mask in her lap thoughtfully.  She hadn’t bought it.  She’d been given it by the man in the shop.  She’d forgotten so quickly.

Cassandra looked out the window.  The snow was beginning to thicken, the tiny white specks turning into large flakes.  She was suddenly very hungry.  Placing the mask back in the box, she went to get something to eat.

 

The mask was still sitting in the box when she woke the next morning.  For some reason she hadn’t felt ready to put it on last night.  She left it in the box, but she kept on looking at it all night almost afraid it might be gone in the morning.

It was still there when she woke, but she found a note taped to her doorway.

The invitation.  How had he figured out where she lived?  She read it and reread it.  It invited her and one guest. 

She placed the note in the box with the mask and hurried off to work.

 

That noon she didn’t go to the shop.  Not only because she now had a mask of her own, but also because she was partially afraid to meet the shopkeeper there.  Afraid he might take back his gift.  She ate lunch with Claire and told her the whole story.  Since neither of them had a boyfriend at the time, Cassandra invited Claire to go with her to the costume party.

“Sure.  Maybe I’ll meet some millionaire, and he’ll sweep me off my feet,” Claire said.

“Yeah, then you’ll never have to go to work again,” Cassandra said vacantly.  She couldn’t stop thinking about the mask.

 

               

The snow was piling up thickly on the ground when Cassandra finally got home.  She picked the mask up from the box and without a thought put it on.  She could feel the tiny sensors rubbing snuggly against her skin.  It didn’t hurt, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were burrowing into her face. 

She turned to the mirror to see what the reflection was like. 

Perfection.  Absolute perfection.  She was beautiful!

Inside the mask, Cassandra smiled and outside the mask smiled with her.  The rose petal lips curled upward in a perfect smile. 

Cassandra laughed for joy.  She never dreamed she could look like this.  She looked like a model.  She pouted, frowned, and made silly faces in the mirror.  No matter what she did, she still looked lovely.

Outside, the snow blanketed the city in white and the wind started to howl.

 

She had slept in the mask.  Her first thought when she woke up.  She had slept in the mask!  How could she?  Cassandra had forgone dinner to watch herself in the mirror.  Eventually, she had fallen asleep from exhaustion with the mask still on.

She grabbed the mirror and held it close to her face.  Had she damaged the mask?

After examining every inch of her skin, no-the mask’s skin, she decided it had not been damaged.

This means I can wear it all the time.

The wind blew the snowdrifts high against the building and the ever-thickening snow continued to fall.

 

Late again, she struggled through the snow.  The wind whipped her black hair around and the cold froze her fingers and toes, but her face remained warm.  Everywhere people scurried about looking to escape the bitter cold.  A man, his face half covered by a thick scarf, brushed against Cassandra as he passed her.  She lost her footing on the ice for a moment and clutched his coat jacket to keep from falling.

“Gosh, I’m sorry, miss,” he apologized.  “Are you okay?”

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” she demanded.  She let go of his coat and shook the snow from her hair.  “You don’t own the street.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.  “It’s so cold that I’ve been walking around with my head down most of the day.  This storm is really bad.  I wonder if it’s going to let up soon or just keep getting worse?”

Cassandra rolled her eyes.  “I don’t have time for small talk.”

“Well, then let me make it up to you.  Say dinner sometime?”

“Just watch where you’re going.” Cassandra stalked off down the street.  “The nerve of some people,” she muttered.  “Thinking he was good enough for me.”

 

“You are so late,” Claire hissed as Cassandra sat down in her cubicle.  “I’ve been covering for you the past two weeks, Cassandra, and I’m getting sick of it.”

The mask turned to her and smiled patronizingly.  “Thank you so much, Claire.”

Claire shook her head.  “Don’t you ever take that thing off anymore?”

“Claire,” the mask said.  “If I took it off everyone would know I was wearing it.  I don’t want people to think badly of me.”

“The boss is beginning to think badly of you,” Claire said sharply.

“You’re not angry at me?  I still want you to go to the party with me next week.”

Claire sighed.  “Yeah, I’ll come.  I already bought the costume, but it’s not that great.”

“I’m sure you’ll look just lovely in it if you try,” the mask said.

“What do you mean ‘if I try’?”

“Well, maybe you should buy a mask, too.”

“I don’t need a mask; my beauty is natural,” Claire hissed.  “That mask is so fake.”

Inside Cassandra laughed, but the mask scowled, and Claire slipped back behind the wall.

 

 

The night of the party it was blizzarding outside.  Cassandra’s taxi pulled up beside Claire’s building.  Claire wasn’t outside so Cassandra told the driver to wait and went to fetch her friend.  She wore a long jacket over her gown to protect it from the relentless snow.  No one else was on the street that night. 

Cassandra pounded on Claire’s apartment door.  “It’s time to go!”

Claire opened the door.  She wasn’t wearing a dress.  “Are you nuts?  It’s a blizzard outside.  There’s no way we can make it!”

“Sure we can!”  Cassandra pushed her way into the apartment.  “I have a taxi, now go get ready.”

Claire looked out the window to see a taxicab pulling away.  “The taxi’s leaving.”

“WHAT?!” the mask screamed.  “I told him to wait!  How dare he?”  She turned to Claire, her face contorted grotesquely.

“It’s not my fault!” Claire said backing away.

“If you had been ready on time!” it screamed.

“Cassandra, what’s wrong with you?” Claire cried.

“Nothing is wrong with me.  I’ve never been more right!”

“Take off that mask.”

Cassandra paused midstep.

“I said take it off, Cassandra.  It’s messing with your head.”  Claire lunged at Cassandra hooking her fingers on the sides of the mask.

“NO!” it screamed.  Cassandra clawed Claire in the face, but Claire did not release her grip on the mask.  Claire spit the blood in her mouth back at Cassandra’s face.  The mask registered horror and Cassandra tried to get up to find a mirror.  She must wipe the blood from her perfect face.

Claire pulled down on the mask with all her might as her friend screamed curses at her.  Suddenly the mask slipped free and Claire lost her grip.  It fell slowly spinning to the floor and blue eyes looked up at Claire just before it shattered into thousand pieces on the floor.

Claire looked up at the figure before her and felt her blood run cold.  For a moment, she could see.  For a moment, she saw only hollowness where a face should be and then it collapsed, the hair falling like black feathers to the ground below.  The coat crumbled to the floor and was covered by the dark strands.  Nothing more remained of Cassandra.  Only her black hair and blue eyes staring up from the shattered mask on the floor.

Outside, the snow stopped falling.