Joined: 3 Oct 2010
He was familiar, yet he remained unnamed in my mind. Everything about him screamed at me:
his proud, slightly haughty stature, his outstanding height, and even the color of his
skin, tanned from hours in the sun; but it was all just a memory. Nothing but a faded
dream, attempting to resurface.
He stood perfectly still, refusing to acknowledge my existence just a few meters away. I
stopped in front of him, tentatively looking up into his eyes, for he was a good foot
taller. It was only then that he looked down, that I realized his face was covered by a
It was the most exquisite accessory I had ever seen. Made from a dark, ancient wood, the
mask’s every curve rippled like a wave after a storm. It covered his entire face, and
pulsed to the rapid beating of my heart. The design constantly varied; one minute a deep
blue with wild green feathers, the next a lovely shade of pink with red hearts engraved
into the cheeks. It seemed as if each different design represented an emotion, but it was
his eyes, the only visible feature of his face, that showed his true emotions. Pure hatred
glared at me through two cold, black pits with bottomless depths.
I gasped, taking an involuntary step back, but he caught me before I could escape. His
iron grasp was impossible to wrestle out of, and the distracting mask disturbed my focus.
He reached down, as if to push a strand of crimson hair away from my frightened face, but
instead shoved me to the right, pointing me in the direction of a bland door beside us.
It was odd, for I had failed to notice the horrid scene that had been unfolding; I had
only seen him, the nameless boy. The room was bright, almost too bright to bear, and a
loud beeping noise suddenly pulsed in my ears. Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep. And then a scream.
I had never heard anything more terrifying. I peeled my eyes away from the bright light
fixed in the center of the white ceiling and glanced down, afraid of what I might see.
A hospital bed, decorated with silly butterflies and cartoons, held a screaming patient,
drenched in sweat. Pasty skin clung to the boy, who looked like he hadn’t eaten in days,
even weeks. His face was covered by the colorful sheets, making him seem even more ill. He
was all alone, with no company but the blaring machine, and looked as if he were
being…shocked repeatedly. I sprinted towards him, the mysterious boy fading out of my
mind completely, and kicked over the beeping death trap, but that only made it worse.
The shattering screams stopped. The beeping halted. Everything was silent compared to the
agonized shrieks, and the boy lay perfectly still. The machine was in millions of pieces,
and some part of me knew the suffering boy was gone. I looked down at him, tears welling
in my eyes, but my sight was to blurry to recognize his face, which now hung limply off
the side of the bed, completely uncovered. The masked boy was suddenly by side, whispering
in my ear.
“This is all your fault.”
And I knew he wasn’t talking about the beeping machine, but instead something much
bigger. He was right.