|The Soul's Masquerade
Author: Iliana11 PM
A beautiful masquerade, a lurking evil, a noble Master of the Ball, an innocent young girl watching it all. From bright beauty to wicked darkness, good and evil battle for the souls of the dancers. Oneshot. Hooray for symbolism!Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Drama - Words: 1,121 - Reviews: 13 - Favs: 8 - Published: 02-02-10 - Status: Complete - id: 5714270
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Trying my hand at a oneshot. This should be interesting...I got inspired, and this is what came out. It's not perfect, but I had fun writing it. So...enjoy! Review and tell me what you think. It's a little different than my normal writing style.
Worthless. The word echoes in the souls of all who stand in the ballroom. A man dressed in black walks through the crowd, handing every person a mask, inviting them to put it on. He whispers in their ears, telling them dastardly lies.
He won't love you if you don't put that mask on. You're not good enough, pretty enough for him. She won't care for you if you don't pretend. No one likes you. Put that mask on. Hide from them. They would hate you if they knew everything. You're all alone. Put on the mask; fit in.
One by one, every dancer puts the mask on. Their clothes suddenly change from being bright and splendid to dull and gray. No one is confident to reveal the true colors of their soul. The joy of the party begins to leave, for everyone is hidden.
One of the younger girls there, a girl of no more than sixteen, scans the ballroom, deep blue eyes analyzing. She spots the man in black. Wary of him, she attempts to take off her mask to get a better look.
The dark stranger rushes over to her, motioning for her not to take the mask off. If you reveal who you are, no one will ever love you, he whispers. Slowly, the girl puts the mask back on. Inside, she wishes she could take the mask off; it was uncomfortable, but she had to if she wanted people to like her.
The man in black rushes off, and the girl stands there, sad and desolate. She watches as a man dressed in white chases after the man in black. She smiles. This man seems friendly. The man in white walks over to her, smiling. He tells her to take off the mask. The girl pauses, desperately wanting to, yet something holds her back. She begins to take it off, but the man in black stops her, his grip on her wrist tight. She tries to get away, but is unsuccessful. The dark stranger has a hold on her. The man in white faces the man in black. He shakes his head. The girl wishes she hadn't hesitated and listened to the man in white instead.
The man in black starts to drag her away from the ball. She is his prisoner, now. Frightened and scared, she struggles, but is too weak. Alone, she cannot face this monster of a man.
The man in white stops in front of them. The wicked man is forced to stop. The girl finds herself being released and smiles. That is, she smiles until she sees why she has been let go: the man in white took her place. She insists that he not take her place: her fate had been death; she did not want that for the kind man. The man in white shakes his head. No, this is his duty, his fate now.
They walk out to a grim and gruesome garden filled with gargoyles and dead trees and flowers. At the center is a large wooden post, made for an execution.
A tear drips down the girl's face as the man in black ties up the man in white. She shudders as the man is whipped. Did no one else at the ball see this? Did they understand the terrible crime being committed? Can't the Master of the Ball stop this? She looks around, the suddenly realizes the sickening truth: the man being beaten is the Master of the Ball.
The Master, as powerful as he is, does not struggle. He does not fight, although he easily could. Watch, the wicked man orders. This has been done for her, for all the guests. The girl wants to cry out, but can do nothing.
A swift swipe of the sword marks the end. The man in white crumples to the ground, dead. Blood pours from his chest, and the girl sobs. He saved her life, and now he is dead. The man in black rushes to the ball, victorious. The mood of the ball darkens even more. There is not one bit of celebration; no one would have been able to guess that it had once been a very happy place.
Suddenly, the earth shakes. Light shines from executioner's post. The ropes that once bound the Master are undone, and he is gone. In shock, the girl turns around to see the Master before her, smiling. The blood is gone. He is alive!
Death cannot defeat true love, says the man. This was done out of love for all at the ball. The girl smiles, embracing her new friend. He beckons her to take off the mask and follow him. Without question, she tears off the mask and throws it to the ground, grinning as it shatters into a thousand pieces. The life immediately returns to her eyes. Her dress turns back to its original bright design.
Follow me, suggests the man. The girl could have easily said no, returned to her lulled state. But she had seen the truth of the matter; she would follow the Master of the Ball to the ends of the earth and back.
They walk back into the ball, and the wicked man in black instantly flees, screaming in disbelief. Such goodness is too much for him to handle.
The wicked man has been banished, but all at the ball are still wearing the masks, standing in darkness.
What do we do with them, the girl asks. They cannot stay like that forever. The man in white nods.
It is their choice, he explains. The two of them would tell them all that they could about the freedom from taking off the mask, about the sacrifice of the Master. Yet in the end, the choice would be theirs. Light or darkness? Freedom or bondage?