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This was originally written for my Langauge Arts class.
Idea: Mallory
Story: Me
Editing: Kelsey

Well... It got a hundred. biggrin

A Vengeful Masquerade

“Hey, look, it’s the new kid.” George snickered into Miguel’s ear.
“Yeah, what a… uh… nerd. What a nerd.” Miguel mumbled.
“She’s in my English class—” George started.
Miguel scoffed. “You actually pay attention?”
George paused in thought, but instead of a comeback he shoved Miguel into the dark complected, frizzy, black haired girl when they approached her.
“Hey!” She cried from the ground. She scurried around, picking up her papers that were now scattered across the floor. She sifted through a few before stopping in realization. “Hey, where’s my—”
Miguel picked a plain, brown leather book from the girl’s mess of papers. He laughed as he opened it, “What are these, demented Teletubbies?” He tilted the book down and took a peek at George to see how he would react. In the leather book were actually detailed sketches of disturbing creatures that could have resembled aliens.
“They’re actually pretty good,” George admitted.
Miguel agreed quickly, “I know, right?”
The girl glanced up at the two boys helplessly. “… Please.”
Miguel shrugged and exchanged glances with George, looking in his expression for what to do next.
George nodded, “Go ahead…”
Miguel snickered, shredding up the book and leaving the fragments at her feet.
George frowned. “I meant give it back—whatever, it doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”
The two boys staggered away from the girl, shoving another kid into a locker as they went, leaving Natasha alone, surrounded by only the remains of her work. Little did the boys know her leather bind was not filled with sketches – but photographs.

*

The next day Miguel ran up to George at his locker. “Dude, look at this!” He cried.
“What do you want?” George spat.
“Just read it!” Miguel handed him a scrap of paper.
George had to read it twice before he collapsed into laughter. The note had been written by a secret crush admitting their admiration for Miguel. Plus cheesiness.
At lunch, Miguel left to meet his secret admirer at the note’s desired location. It was Sixth period, 11:37. Lunch.
After seven minutes when she didn’t come, Miguel flipped out his Swiss Army Knife and began etching his name into the oak tree. He hadn’t gotten to ‘G before a block of painted wood caught his eye between where the tree trunk and tree branch met, on a lower branch.
He lifted himself up into the tree and reached for it in curiosity, but not before falling twice. When he finally got it and hopped down from the branch, he examined it in awe.
In fine detail, the wood was about the size of a human head, and the shape of one’s face. In fact, it was so detailed it looked as though it might fit snugly on his face. Around the eyeholes were streaks of red and orange, while yellow circled the mouth. The details reminded him almost of a butterfly’s fiery wings as the warm colors branched from the nose out. Carved into the back of the mask were the letters “M-A-L-E-V-O-L-E-N-T”.
“This is too cool.” Miguel tore across the school courtyard and back into the lunchroom where he coincidentally ran right into George. “Man, look at this!”
George snorted, “Where did you get that?” He snatched it out of his hands.
“’Dunno, found it by that old oak tree.”
“What happened to your secret admirer?” George teased.
“She didn’t show up, but who cares? This thing is so much cooler!” Miguel cried, reaching for it.
George held it away from his grasp. “No way, I’m trying it on first.”
“Uh, why? I found it first.” Miguel pointed out.
“Who cares.” George muttered, placing it on his face. “There’s no like, string to keep it on…” he removed his hands. “But it sticks… Ugh, this thing stinks.” George laughed, “But I’ve got to admit, it’s pretty cool for Halloween or something.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay, now give it back!”
“Alright, alright, jeez.” Miguel muttered, reaching to the mask to pull it off. It wouldn’t budge. He pulled again, more roughly this time, but the mask wouldn’t move. It was a snug fit.
“Come on, man, seriously.” Miguel whined.
“It,” he attempted to move it again, “won’t,” and again, “come off!”
“George, this isn’t funny.” Miguel reached for his face.
“Don’t touch my face!” George complained.
Miguel ignored him and tugged at the mask, but it remained securely in its place. “What the—”
The bell rang, marking the end of their lunch period.
“What do I do?” George asked. His voice broke in worry.
“Uhm, uh, I… don’t know.” Miguel’s eyes were wide with fear. What’s wrong with that thing? It’s got to be cursed!”
“Get on to class.” One of the lunch monitors scolded the boys, hurrying them along. “And take that stupid mask off, too.”
There was no one else in the room but Natasha, who was gathering her things to move on to her English class.
She looked different to George, somehow, but she was shrouded in shadows so he couldn’t put his finger on what made her different.
“I can’t,” he cried.
“Very funny, punks.” The elder lady muttered. She looked tired and irritated. “Take. It. Off.”
George reached up to the mask and helplessly tried to pry it off, but he couldn’t even get his fingers under the edges, like it was sown onto his skin. “See?” The frustration in his voice rose as he discovered it was practically glued to his skin.
The lady grumbled as she reached for it herself. “Stupid kids—”
“What is it with people touching my face?”
“—What is this, some kind of prank? What did you do to your face?” The woman snarled.
“I don’t know, lady!”
“That’s it, I’m bringing you into the principal’s office.” She glared at Miguel. “You. Get onto class, I’ll bring him myself.”
Miguel looked like a dog with his tail tucked between his legs. “I, uhm, okay… ma’am...” He scurried off like a mouse.
Natasha approached George and the lunch monitor. “I can take him.”
“No, lass, I’ve got this under control. Get to class, I don’t have passes.” When Natasha didn’t stir she repeated herself. “Shoo!”
“I will take him.” Natasha repeated, with a strange firmness in her voice that wasn’t there before. George picked a melodic sound out of her voice that was almost hypnotizing, but he was already confused with the rest of the situation to make anything out of it.
The grouchy woman was quiet for a moment. “Oh-okay… Go on and take him then… Go to… class… after…” Her voice was slurred. She let go of George’s arm which she had been clutching firmly before very slowly and stepped away. Her eyes were wide and glazed over, like a zombie.
“Come with me.” Natasha ordered quietly. George followed her without hesitation. They exited the lunchroom and headed for the front doors of the school.

*


“The principal’s office is back that way,” George pointed behind them.
Natasha’s laughter was like wind chimes. “You would know, I’m sure you’ve been there many times. Do you want to go there instead?”
“Wait, what? Where are you taking me?” George exclaimed.
She ignored him. “Do you want to follow me or go to the principal’s office?”
“I—don’t—what—?”
Natasha shook her head and exhaled. “Just follow me, meat bag.”
“Meat bag?”
She led him out of the front doors, off school grounds, and a few blocks away until they were on an empty highway next to a sewage drop that might have once been a manmade lake.
“What do you want from me?” George asked. Natasha stared at him quietly for a long time. No cars even passed by to break the intense silence. There were no birds, or any other sign of life, either. “Do… do you… know anything about this mask?”
Natasha looked down and pointed towards one of the sewage pipes that was dripping sewage at the bottom of the decline. “Go down there.”
“What?! No way! I’m wearing my new shoes!”
“Go down there.”
“That’s gross, dude!”
“Go down there.” Her voice continued in a flat monotone.
“I… but… that… what will that do?”
“Go down there.”
“You’re no help.” George muttered, walking down the hill. “Ugh, this is so gross… Gosh…” He looked into the murky sewage pipe. “Am I supposed to fit through there? It’s only like, as big as my wrist!” He looked back up to Natasha but she was gone. He groaned. “Now what do I do?”
George reached into the sewage pipe helplessly, it was the only thing he could thing of to do. He heard footsteps in the puddles that the drains had created.
“Who’s there?” George whipped around quickly, but he was still alone.
He turned back around and side, sticking his arm back into the pipe expecting to find something, but he could barely get his entire forearm in. He brought his hand out again, and when he did there was a furry substance in his palm. George screamed and shook his entire arm wildly in the air to get the strange, carrot-colored hair off. When it didn’t come off, he examined it closely.
“Ew, is that drool on it?!”
He ignored the puddle noises the second time he heard them as he stared intently at his hand, but moments later he felt something strike his head. George had no time to see what had hit him before he fell to the ground, unconscious.

*

“He’s waking up.”
“Who?”
“The human, who else?”
“Shh, be quiet, you’ll startle him.”
George drowsily opened his eyes. His vision was blurry at first, but when it focused there were three figures standing over him. They all looked like ‘demented Teletubbies.’
“Good morning, sunshine.” One laughed a tinkling laugh.
George shrieked and brought his hands to his face. He felt wood and remembered the mask was still on. “Oh my—wait… you guys must be in masks too?” He flushed, embarrassed. “Wow, but… they’re so realistic!”
One of the figures smirked. “I wonder why.”
“Maybe we’re real? Just possibly?”
“You guys look familiar…” George looked down in thought. “Do you know a Natasha? She drew some creatures that looked a lot like you guys.”
Two of the figures looked at the one who stood in the middle. “You mean Malevolent?” They both asked at the same time.
“What?”
“Take off your mask, meat bag.” The figure in the middle ordered.
“But I can’t—“
“Take off your mask.”
George sat up from the cot he was laying on and reached up to the cold wood that was pressed to his face. He slowly peeled it off. “Hey, I got it off! I got it off!” George stood up and cheered as though he’d conquered some feat. He looked down at the three figures that had once stood before him.
They all appeared human, and the one in the middle was Natasha.
George was so dumbfounded he fell over. His vision became blurred. “What’s going on?”
Natasha smiled. “We’re on Earth. I brought you to a place where my family and I roam free; it’s very close to the school. Not everyone you encounter here in this world is human. Unfortunately, though, most people can only tell the difference with that mask I created.” She glanced at the wooden masterpiece in George’s lap.
The figure on the left rolled their eyes. “Who cares about explanations. Tell him to put that mask back on so we can eat him.”
The one on the right sighed. “It’s too bad you couldn’t have lured in his fat friend.”
The statement didn’t register in George’s head, and for the umpteenth time he asked, “What?”
That day, George learned the cliché saying: “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” He also learned not to look down on others just because he may have some kind of advantage over them. Lucky for him, though, he’d never have to worry about these virtues ever again.