Opus No. 3: The Mask

I stand on the edge of the horizon and I recognize her- the woman in the mask. She does not cry or mourn and she pretended not to notice me.

It started a month ago and I just can’t seem to get it out of my mind. It was an echo of a rat-a-tat sound of falling rain on a tin roof, a cycle that seemed to repeat itself over and over again. I had been here before but I had a feeling that once I left- I would never, ever, return.

The phone rang and I answered it- even then I could tell she was wearing that damn mask. The one with emerald eyes and clown painted cheeks. I could tell through her muffled voice and the way she spoke through her ceramic pretense.

She whispered lighthearted limericks and laughed about memories of the past. I wanted to believe- really I did but it was difficult knowing now, what I didn’t know then. I asked her to take off her mask when she talked to me- she refused.

She pronounced my name Jester and claimed I had no business trying to read her mind. Alas, it is a weakness of sorts; as I grow stronger every day I must look past that beautifully embroidered face, look though all of the gold and gold gems. Yet as I moved closer she turned to protect her mask.

To scoff at the truth and to look the other way is the Achilles heel, the Trojan horse that dismantles you and leaves you broken on the floor. Yet I still rushed to her aide when she stumbled (but I swear to god she has never faltered.)

Over the years even Jester’s lose interest in knowing the future. Over the years even Jester’s gain knowledge in what is, and is not possible. Even Jester’s sometimes laugh. I am no clairvoyant, yet neither is the woman without a face.

It does not hurt. Even fading memory of pains and aches that happened a million years ago. Time given- all wounds heal. Yet the mask is still there reminding me of what can and cannot be. Destiny it seemed has played a cruel, cruel joke on me.

Do not now or forever think I am heartless just because I fear what is behind the mask. We all have our masks; we all have our pretences that never seem to fade away. I am taught by the greatest teacher that has ever played the game and I am proud of this fact.

I do not care or take care of you. I heard this before.

And there are some friends that know this to be true.

And the mask is still there laughing and cursing me.

I can no longer focus; everything is a blur.

“Take my hand for the moment.” The masked woman began. “But only for the moment- for in life there are no guarantee’s”

If this was meant as a forewarning of some apocalyptic event that is meant to tear me a sunder- I am not afraid. For I only fear what lies beneath the mask.

She searched for the trepidation in my eyes and maybe somewhere deep within her prejudiced thoughts it was real, at least she believed it to be real. Fool hearty for this only tears her mask apart at the seems.

I remember pain…

My thoughts are not making sense anymore…

Everything is jumbled together…

“I love you.” She uttered as she took my hand.

I asked for clarification but she could not give it to me. She laughed and explained that I didn’t hear what I thought I heard. So be it, I am a shadow of what I once was. I have grown to the size of a mighty oak- I am indestructible.

Although she has kept me at an arms length away at times, she has allowed me to examine the mask more closely. It takes my breath away. I am in love.

But what lies beneath?

It is hard for me to breath now…

I hear the voices of doctors and nurses…

And I am alone.

“Tomorrow we will be in love.” She laughed. “Or maybe not.”

Even as I heard him explain my dire circumstances I did not believe him, like I did not believe her. I am strong and cannot be beaten. He explained the acid and its corrosive tendencies. I laughed at him, like she laughed at me.

Granite…

I wonder if I will ever see what lies beneath the mask…

Sandstone slab…

Carved…

“I love you too.” I announced to the world while standing on my pedestal.

We all laughed. Even the man with tears in his eyes- yes, he laughed too.

The pain was tremendous and my thoughts were and are not real, nothing is real, except the horizon and where I am standing.

The headstone- for those that do not know they are dead. Tis a headstone scribed with no sentiments or approvals just a name and date. My name.

She turned away just before the blinding white light appeared. For a moment I thought she might remove her mask… You know, just for old times sake. Her pale white fingers reached for the clasp but before the mask was removed she smiled, turned and then walked away.