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| Fiction: The Porcelain Mask |
Posted by
SeraphimSilence on Thursday, January 17, 2002 - 05:19 AM PST
The winter was drawing to a close, then, the people were just slowly seeming to wake from a long winter's nap and the animals were returning to their lives as if the snow were nothing more than a white carpet to honor their arrival. Everything was peaceful then, I loved this time of year, little did I know that it would soon become the only time I could ever find my solace in meditation.
I normally would watch the children pass by, a few to school with slightly glum faces, and others from the candy or toy stores gleefully giggling and showing off their 'treasures' of treats. How I do love the children, they are so innocent... unmarred by the terrifying realities that plague this world... many of them anyway. I do, however, pity those that know nothing of the uneasy peace they have here in "Free Land".
I have at most, been alone for the majority of my life. I've seen many things and yet nothing all the same. I've been a Noble, Knight, and Guardian to the people of this world and yet I serve no higher Lord. Why? Even that baffles me. In this life however I'm a "knight" of a different kind. Serving the city their justice under the costume of a public defender of justice. For those who detest the use of overly publicized honorary words, i'm a cop.
Siris Derril, or at least that's the name on this silly peice of plastic I have a picture and information of where I live on. I'll never get used to this age, too many sounds, smells... deaths. The deaths now in this age could easily rival the Black Plague... though here is it one at a time... and then it was en mass.
How I miss those days. Not the plague no. But just the days of old where hunts for game were more necessity as well as pleasure than to stuff the animal and place it on a wall. Then in that time, men were men. Today, anybody that can carry a gun and use it is considered an adult. Even the foolish ten year old I see cursing at his elders and thumping his chest like some enraged chimp. It almost makes me want to laugh and hope for a performance only a circus knows of.
Laughing is another thing I miss. I used to do it all the time, when the situation called for it. But now, I've seen too many terrible deeds to even remember what it means to smile. Ah, I've been brought out of my nostalgia by the crackling and annoying whine of a fellow officer asking for assistance. Of course I have no choice but to oblige. Something about a 'turf war'. Its them again. Those damn kids that think they're the rulers of the universe. Sighing I replied back that I was on my way and turned the car I drove in the direction the call for action came from.
The action was happening at some new club in town, most likely the manager had called for assistance when two of the dancers had a disagreement, how wrong I was. When I walked in, the other officer was already gone, after the people causing the disturbance, the clubgoers all looked at me as if I were some alien being, and in truth I felt like one.
I saw them all, pale faces, black make-up and a variety of colors in their hair. It was dark, very dark, I'm glad now I can see better at night than day. They were surrounding something, from my position it looked like a wounded bird, a pair of black novelty wings on its back and a body so thin and frail it made me cringe. I smelled it, the bittersweet mixed scent of perfume, and blood. Moving forward I asked to see, and they parted, like the famed red sea of the "man's good book". As I kneeled before the 'child' before me, I stared into the face of a very confused and terrified.... boy? The moon white colored makeup, ebony lipstick and fine dusting of blue eye shadow had fooled me it seemed. But he was a 'beauty' to behold. He was whimpering slightly and asking me why they were hated so much.
"Who?" I asked. And he responded. Them. The people around me, the people that were standing over their fallen like vigilant angels, or, ravenous wolves. This question struck me with a chord, I didn't know. The paramedics were supposedly on their way, but damn it all they're slower than snails when it comes to this kind of accident, and I wasn't about to let this boy die because of their reluctant stupidity. Lifting him up I moved and walked outside, leaving a trail of blood drops on the way with a few of the people following and begging to go with me for the sake of their friend. In reluctance I agreed letting two of them sit with him in the back to keep him comfortable and one in front with me to give me the details of what had happened.
It was as I feared, the local street gang had invaded the club claiming ownership of the territory. Said that they, in the words of the neanderthals, as "freaks" had no right to be there. In a heated argument between the ring leader of that group and one of the dancers on the floor a heated argument happened, and this boy just accidentally also happened to be in the wrong place at exactly the right time to be near-gutted by the thrust of a switchblade.
All this I thought. and for what? Because they look different? Act different? Think differently from them? it disgusted me. Especially knowing that the majority of the people causing the disturbance were once people that were being disturbed. Society never will learn, why bother doing to another what you yourself have had done to you? In my opinion it is stupidity.
The boy was frightened that much I knew, he was speaking that he didn't wish to die. That he wanted to live for his family. It was comforting to hear his words, as many others on the "wrong path" that would also dress and act as he did, thought the only redemption was in death, chaos or destruction. I assured him I wouldn't let him die. He was too young anyway, he seemed more to me like the type that read Tolkien, or watched Interview With The Vampire, just to pick out the stereotypes the director used. To him, the make up, fancy clothes, and bad poetry was FUN, not life.
I felt myself cringe, the day had long melted away into night when this happened, arriving at the hospital had been no trouble at all, thanks to the wailing sirens above my head. Though it took me barking orders at the few strange-looked doctors to get the boy taken care of. Only one of the friends that begged to go with me went on with him a while more, staying at his side loyally while the other two looked at me as if I were the strangest creature they'd seen.
With my naturally long black hair, and champagne pale skin, I must have been an oddity to behold, especially in an officer's uniform, I ignored it however... much until they asked me why. Pulling off the cap that bore my prestigeous circle's emblem upon it I turned aquamarine eyes to the pair that stared at me in wonderment.
"I can't stand prejudice." It was the only explanation I gave them. I looked at the time. My shift was over. I told them to tell me of his condition when they knew and gave them a card with my pager and cell number before leaving like a shadow into the dark night. As I drove home I wondered a while over my actions. And upon entering my establishment I still wondered as I packed the uniform away for cleaning, and washed off the blood from my skin.
Slipping from the shower and drying myself I sat before the mirror and stared at my reflection. Smirking slightly at myself I only moved my gaze to stare down at the small compact of makeup base sitting on my dresser. Looking to my reflection again I reached my hand to the compact, opened it and closed my eyes, taking the applicator and almost drowning myself in the shade two times paler than my own.
I took up from a box, ebony lipstick, and applied it to my lips, thick and accented. The eye shadow, liner, and brow pencils colored in the last of my mask. The clothes, vintage and something out of an Anne Rice novel, covered me like a welcome lover. Soft and warm. My transformation was complete. Staring at myself critically but approvingly I smirked and moved to exit my home, the cat was the only one that knew my secret, and as long as I fed and protected him he would never tell. I exited the home, locked the door, and began stalking down the street towards a back ally where my own comrads in "arms" waited. They greeted me in silent smiles and nods. Where we met, was as forboding as one might think. Looking to the en mass amount of headstones I smiled silently.
"Do we dance or sing with the angels tonight?" They all stared at me and looked to one another with equal grins. Tonight.... we dance.
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