Smoke, Mirrors and Masks

Act 1: Part 3 - Return to the World of Masks

They danced in circles, the mask wearers. Howling from their lungs as they ceremoniously gambolled under a sticky, summer sun. Edward's brow glistened with a sheen of icy sweat as he faced the playground. The beast was still out there, somewhere, lurking amongst the shrieking, schoolyard jungle. Edward's sketchbook let out a doomy creak, as it bowed in his quaking grasp. He must vanish also, launch into the undergrowth and fade into the spaces where shadows overlap. Only by being forgotten, could be he safe. Until the lunch bell cried out.

Edward bent forward as he sighed with relief. Very few things could bring order to the mask wearers chaos, and the lunch bell was one of them. The playground howls melted instantly and Edward watched as the mass of scrambling crowds slowed into a gentle saunter. The playground morphed from a scene of heavy, chaotic energy into a shining display of uniformity and order as the hordes filtered through one another, forming the individual lines that made up each class. Edward trotted forward, sliding himself into a space for classroom 8B, a few positions from the back of the line. From the corner of his eye, Edward spied the beast ambling in the back of another line, an exasperated expression hanging low on his face. The beasts tiny, pin-hole eyes threw a glare across the playground concrete. Edward succumb to a half smile as the teachers began to escort their respective classes back inside. He was safe here, not even the jungles greatest beast would dare break the class lines.

Edward spent the rest of the day absentminded with his cheek squashed against his knuckle. He had settled into the safety found at the back of classroom 8B, where he doodled cheerily in his work book. Every half-an-hour or so he would lift his lazy stare to the class, where the mask wearers chirped and giggled to one another.

He looked to the seat beside him, where his bag and books were stacked in a pile. He grumbled and returned to his doodles, where he sketched out his daydreams in black and blue biro. The mirror. The ballerina. Sophia.

She kept appearing in the window, or so Edward thought. In the corner of his eye she'd linger, her slim figure fashioned from rays of sunlight. Though every time he brought his head from his knuckle the refracted rays would shatter, dispelling the mirage, leaving Edward to stare at the empty green fields that surrounded the school.

If the lunchtime bell called for order, the last bell of the day cried out for chaos. For its glorious roar pulled every student from their desks to the door, chucking on coats and bags as an afterthought. Edward tossed his books into his bag before getting up and sliding silently out of classroom 8B. As with the playground, the hallways were a no-mans-land. Though the mask wearers attention was concerned with one thing alone, leaving. So, it was easy to ride the natural current through the hallways to the outside world, which Edward did with both hands tucked under the straps of his rucksack.

The journey home was a breathless one which required a watchful eye and a cautious step. For the menaces that torment the schoolyard often bleed into the outside world, lurking in corners hidden to the eyes of the naïve. Though fortune smiled upon Edward that afternoon and scuttled back to his unassuming red-brick terrace undetected. As the door clicked behind him his lungs opened up and a moment later, he was received with his bright, routine welcome.

"Hello Eddy!" Rebecca cried. She turned from the hallway mirror, whilst carefully unravelling folds of chestnut hair from a set of sizzling curlers.

"Hi Beks." He mumbled as he shrugged his bag from his shoulders and took his sketchbook from inside.

"You okay?" Rebecca asked, returning to the mirror begin another set of curls. Edward didn't reply, instead he slipped past her in the narrow hallway and made a sharp bid for the stairs. "Eddy?"

The boy flew up the stairs, taking two at a time and turned sharply as he reached the landing. As he dived into his bedroom where an easel, with a blank canvas, sat waiting for him. He sealed his entry behind him by closing the door. He turning the easel so it faced his unmade, single bed. He sat himself upon the messy, duvet nest and lay his open sketchbook beside him. There was a knock.

"You sure everything's okay?" Rebecca asked through the closed door.

"I'm fine!" Edward hissed, his glare burning a hole through the canvas.

A pause was held before Rebecca tepidly continued, "I'm going out for a bit. If you need anything just message me, alright?" She stood at the door-side for a reply. None came. And her footsteps faded away down the stairs.

Edward turned back to his sketchbook once he heard the rattle of the front door, as it signalled his sisters departure. The thick, textured pages presented a rough outline of Sophia, scratched in lines of biro, framed in the borders of the mirror. The image danced in his mind as the pen sketch translated itself into acrylic brushstrokes.

His hand stretched to a small table beside the bed, littered with half squeezed tubes of paints and plucked a paint brush from a plastic tub. Instinct took his hand to wet the brush's pointed tip. But Edward's eyes rolled in annoyance as he glanced over to see that the tall glass held browned, swampy water. The brush clattered softly upon the table as he took the glass in hand and jumped from the bed. It was a quick march across the landing to the bathroom, where Edward poured the murky contents away before refilling the glass with crisp, clear water. Returning to his messy throne, he placed the glass back upon the table, where the water's danced in waves of shallow ripples. With the brush back in hand Edward reached to wet its tip again.

"You paint too?!"

Edward jolted backward on the bed as a voice that wasn't his spoke out, banging his head against the bedroom wall.

"Who's there?!" Edward cried through gritted teeth and a pair of narrowed eyes, nursing the lump that swelled on the back of his head. He brought the paint brush out in front of him and circled the room with its tip.

"Forgotten me already? That's rude."

Edward's humourless glare rolled across the room until it settled upon the fresh glass. A late afternoon orange filtered through the gaps in his bedroom blinds, reflecting his image upon the water's surface as he hovered over it. There was a stillness which lingered for a few moments until his reflection was shattered. Edward shuffled backward as the water leapt and danced like a boiling cauldron, spilling over the glasses edge onto the table. A gentle hiss slithered through the air as the waters came to settle. Edward swallowed a knot in his throat as he leant over the top of the glass. This time he was not met by his own reflection, rather that of a pale girl with black hair tied back into a bun.

"Sophia!?"

"Did you miss me?" She greeted him with a curling smile before sticking out her tongue. Peering over the rim of the glass, Sophia noted the canvas and Edward's open sketchbook. She looked back up at Edward, who still hung dumbfounded over the glass. "Can I see now!?"

Her presence fanned the embers of Edwards heart. He replied with a grin and a silent nod of the head.