Smoke, Mirrors and Masks

Act 1: Part 1 - The Boy Who Feared the Masks

Edward Young, a boy of few words and fewer friends. None in fact. A loner in every essence, though a loner by his own design. The school mornings would find Edward darting silently through crowds of chattering children, the mask wearers, as they ambled to their classrooms for the morning reception. He would pass by as an ambience, careful not to knock bags or shoulders as he went. For much like the cry of the first lesson's bell, Edward was mostly ignored. He had no complaints, the silence that came with residing in one blind eye was far better than forced non-chatter with the masked wearers. Plus, the boy could never tell what nefarious undertones were smuggled under the guise of an innocent conversation.

Once a young girl had sought conversation from Edward on a spring afternoon, as she spied him sketching amongst the shallow reeds of the school pond. She approached cautiously, yet with innocent intent, and lightly tapped his shoulder. Offering a smile she asked, "What are you drawing?"

Edward's tongue leapt down his throat. A fierce grin loomed over him, with giant teeth standing like rows of blunt, tombstones. The girl's eyes shifted villainously beneath her mask, back-and-forth, as smoke sizzled through the tombstones like an ominous fog. Edward could not bear the horror and slammed his sketchbook shut, clawing backward across the grassy bank. Amidst a fit of frantic pants, and pathetic whimpers, the boy managed to stumble onto his feet and fled without saying a word leaving the girl dumbfounded. Her welcoming smile sank into a single line frown. "Freak."

To run was Edward's way, to be alone, to be safe. But there were some forces in this world from which it is hopeless to hide. And it was at the moment of this realisation where the boy's story truly begins, later that year, amidst the heat of a summer lunchtime.

Edward was sat at the playgrounds edge. A tall hedgerow, teeming with green, denoted the border. In its centre, tangled in a weave of wooden knots, laid the remains of an ancient picket fence.

Edward's sketchbook lay open across his lap, a tin case at his side overflowed with coloured pencils. With both eyes narrowed, Edward began to brush faint lines across a new page. Every other second, he'd glance up, focusing on a tiny snail that slimed across a bowed leaf. With great care, and attention to detail, Edward immortalised the critter as it fumbled with the leaf's browned edge with its feelers.

He'd have happily sat there all lunchtime but malice sought him out, taking the form of a shadow that clawed its way across the playground. The boy shivered as it settled over him, it was a cold veil that eclipsed the sun. Edward looked up. A beast stood over him, a broad wall of fat and muscle. His eyes were tiny, all-black, and fixed beneath a caveman's brow. The brute's glare burned down a wide, crooked nose and his nostrils flared as he let out an inhuman grunt. A lash of fear whipped Edward's skin in goosebumps as three more boys materialised, folding out from Sean's black silhouette. They wore identical masks, presenting twisting grins that curled with menacing delight. A low, scornful snigger danced around Edward as the bullies encompassed him.

"Wot's this?" Sean grunted. His sausage-like fingers came down and Edward's sketchbook from his hands.

"It's nothing!" Edward gasped, too frightened to reach out in protest. "...Just a drawing." One of the boys slithered behind him. A loud metal chime rang out as Edward's pencil case was crushed beneath the boy's boot. The pencils cried in dismay as they popped, their fragile bodies crumbling beneath the impact.

Sean's nostrils flared again. Edward's heart sank as he watched the brute rip the page from the binder, squash it into a ball and toss it over his shoulder. Seconds later, the book was slapped across Edward's face. The sudden blow left a blistering, red mark and caused Edward's eyes to well with water. The urge to flee kicked in and Edward tried to spring through a gap between two of the boys. Though he was instantly shoved into the snatching arms of another boy, who wrapped an arm round his neck.