A Mask's Shameful History {|} Prompt
Ok, so like I found this writing prompt and decided "Oooo I should make a lil snippet!" And wrote 4 pages worth of writing. Also, I'm kinda new to writing so critiques would be helpful! Enjoy the angst lol
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I gripped the mask with great force, feeling the sharp and jagged edges puncturing my skin. I stare into its sockets as if it was mocking me. It was, wasn’t it? Despite the indentions and the scratches of past trials, the mask is a symbol of blessing. It is a sign that peace and prosperity will soon come into view despite bleak times. Yet, it sits in my hands. It sits in my hands, mocking me.
The imperfections are only a mere distraction from their pure intentions. As for me, the scars that dawn upon my rough hands are nothing to flaunt. They weren’t earned by an act of heroism, just the punishment for all my wrongdoings. It dares to mock me when it knows that is what I’ve chosen and it is who I am. It is the bed that I will lay and the deathbed it will become.
So why, why is this mask–this mask of virtue–making a presence near my abode?
I rear my head away in disgust, fixating my eyes on the lair that’s waiting for me. Right. That was what I was doing. I was going to make some plans and fix some coffee…maybe fix that flickering lightbulb that simply won’t go out.
So I walked, slowly, softly whispering the number of my steps as I made my way to the piles of paperwork waiting on my desk.
Mumbling incoherently to myself, I started writing. Just another day to make some more plans. Just another day to think. Just another day to stare at that mask–wait no. Don’t give in to the way the mask leers at you. Looking down at me. Mocking me. What right does it have?
I grasp it once more, teeth grit, knuckles whitening. I gave into the pressure it used against me and instead gave the same pressure to it. I hear the sharp crack piercing through my ear. How dare it mock me? I’ll make sure that it will no longer dare again. Not again. Another sickening crack, pieces falling on the ground. Oh, how everyone thought you were tough…yet the pressure, oh the pressure is just too much. One final crack. One final one to-
“Stop.” A voice, quite faint, yet the echoes of their command were proved to be profound.
The figure, surely stout, walked out of the darkness it once hid. Seems like that light finally gave out.
I tap my fingers languidly on the cold surface of my desk. “I had a feeling it’d be you.” My voice failed to smooth over, the cracks apparent.
“Then you’d know why I brought-”
“I didn’t think of you to be the type to mock me.” My lip curled.
Her eyes widened, “That…That was not my intention.”
“Then what is it that you are trying to convey?” My words come out strained, as if it was a struggle to merely breathe.
Silence was a disgusting response.
It was then met with laughter, ragged laughter.
“You think I could play the part of a hero?”
“He was your friend!”
I scoff loudly at that, “Spare me the sentimental.” Despite the statement, my voice betrays me, spilling the disgraceful shame out of me.
“I saw the effects he made on you.” The woman stated, “You didn’t choose to fight along The Harbinger. It was because of him, wasn’t it? Don’t you want to put his efforts to good use? The efforts he put into this city? The effort he put into you?”
“His ‘efforts’ led to his death.” I rasped, my back stiffening. “If his ‘efforts’ were so glorious, why was he publicly shamed across the state, ruthlessly murdered in the town square, and I am still here in my liar? I did nothing when he was approaching death, or when he was dying, or when he died. And I shall continue to do so because that is what I do. No hero of such.”
Her head tilts, “Have you no shame?”
I grip the mask once again, feeling the unforgiving chipped frame jabbing my skin once again.
“Why should I?” My tone slightly raised. “Why should I place myself in a position of high honor when I am in no place to commit? What tributes and great triumphs have I achieved for you to bestow me this role? None. Only the horrors that plague me and label me as the disease that I am. You think I need freeing but there is no need. I want to be like this…I must.”
I slumped back into my chair, turning my head towards that frustrating faulty lightbulb. I rub the mask beneath my fingers, feeling the freshly formed cracks against my palm.
“His name, did you know what it meant?” Her voice strips me away from any distractions I had left.
My eyes narrow. “I never cared to learn another language, nor did I care about the clever names supers came up with. It is a sentiment I wish to continue.” My voice was laced with disinterest.
She didn’t get the hint.
“Tàiyáng.” She began, tone earnest, “It meant sun. He was our light. Our hope. He gave those who were never given a second chance something to look up to. He was-”
My voice ruthlessly cuts through her speech. “Ohohoho. I get it.”
I tossed the deteriorated mask, hearing another distasteful crack as it landed on the hard floor. My chair topples over from the speed at which I stand. It’s all mockery.
“Next you’re going to say, ‘This is what he wanted’, right?” My steps echo across the room, persistent. “That this is my chance to ‘prove myself’ to rebuild myself. That he was supposed to be my holy light that helps me cross the gates of heaven and sing hallelujah!”
I fling my arms open, molding myself a smile that is only vacuous and filled with utmost contempt.
“You don’t understand-”
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND?” I interrupted once more, with guttural resonance. “I have toiled away for years to carve out the path that I now walk upon. Ever since I placed my feet in this building I have understood. I understand that a being like myself doesn’t need any redemption, for there is nothing to be redeemed. A being like myself understands that I am a mere puppet for those who have reached much greater stratagems. To those who are blessed by the people, I am a shadow.”
My hands grasp at something, but there is nothing to grasp. The alternative was to dig my fingernails into my palms.
“And you taunt me with his mask? The sole symbol of pure good, in the hands of someone who has dirtied themselves with sins, with piles of innocent bodies weighing on their back. Tell me, look me in the eyes!” My brows furrow, my hands shake, my vision getting blurrier by the minute.
“Look into my eyes and tell me, do I look like somebody who has any clean part of me to spare to wear the mask of the esteemed hero that has a reputation of a god? Why would a god have faith in me?” I rasp, taking another sharp breath.
“Why did you ever-why did he ever think he could-” My back arches as I no longer have the strength to hold myself up, no longer do I have the power to hold the heavy weight off the sins on my back.
But I must. I must because I have spent years of my life dedicated to play this part. To take the awful risks you must endure when taking this dark path. If not, what will become of the mask I use to create this identity I have sculpted to my liking? What will become of me?
I try to stand, but I cannot. Not anymore. The only comfort I hear is the deafening silence.
“You…You don’t have to change.” The women whispered, words spoken with great delicacy.
“You can still be Nefās after this. You can still continue your years of work. You have carried many atrocities, that much is true. But the people only see the mask and the apparel you wear that hold the history of these actions.” She took her steps, softly and slowly.
“If you take on a new identity, with clothes,” She takes the cracked mask, holding it gently, “and a mask that holds no history, you can carve out a new path. Only this once. No strings, no catch, no anything. You’ll be pristine.” The hero falls on one knee, lingering for a slight moment before moving the mask closer toward me.
“How can I fake such ethics? All I ever knew was..” I wavered.
“Tàiyáng saw something in you. If you truly believe that you cannot be redeemed, that what he saw in you was a facade, then you can do it again.”
I lift my head slightly, raising my hand to touch the irrefutable damage. My damage is now a part of the mask’s history.
I take a shallow breath. “It’s broken.”
“It can be fixed.” The women swiftly replied, with a a tinge of desperation. “The damage may still be noticeable, but think of it like this–it’ll have a fresh start. You can…add your own little flair.” There was a slight raise in her voice, perhaps an attempt of some levity.
Could I, the one with the scars that are sneered at in disgust ever be seen as blessings? Adored by the same people who have seen me turn things to ruin, with their eyes, staring into my mask to see what secrets I’ve kept that willed me into the monster that I am.
I looked into the sockets of the mask once more, peering into the dark sockets that had mocked me so many times. Yet, no mockery appeared in that mask any longer. Is it pity? Remorse?
Why would this mask show me remorse? Does it know of the same pains that I have experienced? Are there scars that hold only shame covered by the good deeds of others?
What secrets has it kept for its owner, so Tàiyáng wouldn’t face the same fate as all it’s enemies? A fate of mine.
If Tàiyáng did cover all these secrets…would that be the reason he-
I swallow up my bile, grunting in revulsion. I shake my head as if the callous thought would simply vanish.
I will make my decision. A new trail, just for a while. Just to complete the revenge people long for. What I long for. The vengeance for Tàiyáng. The friend of many and.. the friend of mine. Just another body to be stacked. The feeling will be different. It won’t weigh.
I touch the mask, I hesitate, before gingerly scooping up the object and bringing it up to my rough face. It conveyed warmth, compared to the chilling metallic mask I had worn.
“What’s it like, Nefās?” She softly asked
“Fās.”
“...Fās?”
“If I’m going to start anew, what is better than to start with a name?” I say as I stand back onto my feet.
“Not a little on the nose?”
“Considering the fact that I’ve just now switched sides, I would say it is good for now.”
“Fair point.” There was a short pause. “What will your first course of action be, Fās?”
After wiping the leftover grime off my tattered suit, I positioned the mask more comfortably.
With my chin held high I took a slow deep breath, “Fixing that mind-numbing light bulb.” I sigh.
“And of course working on The Harbinger's downfall.”