Hi there! Just a teen who wants to write more for her last few years of high school :)
and who also can't usually write super-extended pieces of writing because of writer's block so short stories will be all I ever write :P

Message to Readers

Short story written a year ago, and I haven't really edited it since then.

It's about a boy and a girl, outsiders, going to a masquerade to forget themselves and who they are, even for a night.

(I didn't write it as a romance but I guess you could take it that way).

Amidst the Masquerade

November 5, 2020


She shouldn’t be here - a lower-class delinquent wrapped in a scarlet dream, born the rarest rose amongst the city of thorns that was her home. But tonight she was someone else, elsewhere. Yet even on a night such as this, she stood out with an icy beauty as she wandered amidst the pastel facade of faces, masks and dreams that glimmered in the dark light.

He shouldn’t be here - a middle-class commoner wearing a white fantasy, born the brightest star unseen amongst the blinding city lights that were his home. But tonight he was someone else, elsewhere. Yet even on a night such as this, he stood out with a radiating hope as he roamed the bright masquerade of voices, frivolity and desires that glowed in the bright light.

They were two young, beautiful, lying pretenders walking, talking, breathing in the masquerade - yet underneath crawling in their own skins, grasping for an escape. All they wanted was to forget themselves, to leave behind their marred lives - even for a night. And here tonight, perhaps they could. Here tonight, ignorance danced with desire; frivolous girls and dashing boys caught up in the heat of each passing moment.

No one saw beneath her mask. It hid her eyes from the dim light with its dark, scarlet colours and soft, black feathers. Her dress was a stunning array of deep, crimson red covered with intricate black lace that fluttered around her waist as it reached the floor.

No one saw beneath his mask. It hid his eyes from the piercing bright light with its off-white colours and glowing white feathers. He wore a stunning white tuxedo that shifted comfortably whenever he moved, and the only hint of colour on him was his maroon bowtie.

They were young strangers walking amidst the masquerade, outliers hidden in plain sight, thorned roses in a field of daisies.

His white mask darkened in the light as he wandered ever so closer to the darker side of the room, standing tall, pretending to be someone he wasn’t.

Her scarlet mask shimmered in the light as she roamed ever so closer to the brighter side of the room, head held high and walking in shoes she didn’t quite fit.

They were too young to fit the skin life had forced them to wear, marred by broken lives that had aged them beyond their years.

In a room of the rich and the privileged and those who had everything, - those fortunate enough to never see beneath the clouds - the strangers were anything and everything else - delinquents, commoners, failures, survivors. They were those who could never win against the rich no matter how hard they’d try. Those privileged had all the breaks and everything to gain. Nothing would ever change that fact. 

Perhaps that was why she was so bitter.

Perhaps that was why he was so lost.

But tonight he was someone else.

Tonight she was anybody else.

Here, they could forget themselves, - a rose weathered into a delinquent and a star dulled into a commoner - even for a moment, and as their eyes met from across the room they stopped. 

And saw each other.

Beneath the elegant array, he was only a boy seeking a place to belong and to thrive. A boy needing to be found. She saw his hopes and dreams and desires under his white mask. 

Beneath the silent beauty, she was only a girl wanting to be someone else, someone more. A girl wanting to be free. He saw her as she was - determined, fierce, broken - under her scarlet mask. 

They saw each other as who they were, not who they pretended to be.

They were nobody here, but they were somebody to each other. Perhaps that would be enough. 

She walked out of the masquerade with him. 

He walked out of the masquerade with her.

Two masks, one scarlet and the other off-white, laid outside the door as they left, no longer needed.

Inspired by a few lines from 'The outsiders" by SE Hinton in 1967 - "And you can't win against them no matter how hard you try, because they've got all the breaks and even whipping them isn't going to change that fact. Maybe that was why Dalls was so bitter" (pg 11). 
Citation: Hinton, S. E. (1967). The outsiders. New York: Viking Press.


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  • November 5, 2020 - 3:17am (Now Viewing)

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