Dawson's world has always been the same. The white masks that fill his everyday, fill his dreams. Many dreams of what is behind the masks of strangers.
When Dawson's dad buys him a motorcycle, his world slowly changes in front of him. He finds himse...
Dawson's life starts here in a dirty alley holding a white mask. Water streams down his face as he looks up to the sky. If they are tears or actually rain, no one will know for sure.
As the hollow cries of a baby echo through the alley, a young woman ran away.
Her fear was great and it was masked by the same white mask as what the baby held.
Rain pounded down soaking the baby. After what seemed like an eternity later, warm arms were holding him and he was quiet.
An older woman held the baby close to her body as she ran through the rain back to her home.
An older man met her by the door. His face showed curiosity at the little bundle she held in her arms.
His face looked surprised as she showed him the baby she found. As she talked quickly about how she found him, the man's face softened and he smiled at the woman.
As she looks down at the baby, she has no idea why the young woman left him in the alley. To her, nothing mattered. Her wish had come true and she wasn't going to let anything take him away.
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Years past and the boy grew. Strange things happened every once and a while but the woman shrugged it off as the work as someone else.
The man taught the boy how to walk and soon the boy was running around their small home. The boy's black hair became curly and it stood out against the white mask he wore.
At five the boy was having full conversations with his adoptive parents and they soon found out that he was very smart.
Questions filled their days and one question was asked every day.
"Why do I have to wear this mask?"
The woman would sigh and the man would take his mask off and look into the boy's eyes through the mask.
"You have to wear the mask because there are some very mean people out there in the world. They don't like people like us."
At the age of ten, the boy understood but still hated the mask. At night he would secretly take it off and play in his room.
He made friends with his toys and his parents did nothing to stop him. Instead of getting him in trouble they let him play. They loved watching him play with his toys.
One day when he was thirteen, with a streak of rebellion, he went outside without his mask. Within minutes he was surrounded by some men with white suits and masks on.
His parents came to his rescue and he was punished at home. He was strictly told not to go outside without his mask.
Confused and a little scared, the boy went to his room. Staring at his ceiling, he decided when he was older he would change the rules with the masks.
His robot glided over the floor to the side of the bed. He rolled over and stared at the robot. The robot spun around and rolled to the middle of his floor.
It made some sort of elaborate bow and then began to spin and roll back and forth on the floor. The boy smiled crookedly in slight amusement.
Then he sighed and rolled away from the side of the bed. Looking at the black wall, he saw where he drew a city of white.
One clock tower in the city connected to another city of white. This city of white was upside down and showed how it covered the right side up like a cloud.
His eyes narrowed as he remembered why he drew it. It was his vision of how the men in the white suits were hovering over everyone like a cloud.
His right hand curled into a fist and his eyebrows furrowed in his forehead. His black curls fell in his face and his gaze was broken.
Sighing, he pulled his blankets over himself. Under his blanket it was dark and his eyes closed slowly. A picture of a woman running away from him filled his eyes.
Closing his eyes tighter, he tried to make the picture fade but it stayed just as clear. Then suddenly another picture filled his eyes.
This time it was his parents. His face slowly relaxed and a small smile made its way onto his face.
Two years later, he found himself waking up to the sound of loud pop music at three in the morning.
He groaned. For the past year, he had to deal with the sounds coming from the next building over. Built with no alley between, the tiny club was squashed between his house and another apartment building.
His window no longer let in sunlight because the hundreds of buildings that were built.
When he turned fourteen, some rule was taken off the list of rules for the ghetto.
That's where he lived. The ghetto. It was a cramped place. All sorts of buildings went up after that rule was taken off. Clubs, bars, apartments, tiny stores and more.
When he was fifteen, he found that he could no longer look out his window because of the buildings everywhere. His parents hated the ghetto but they had no other place to live.
His school life was dwindling as fewer people came to school. No one had money for it.
His friends started disappearing and he seemed to stay in the same spot that he was always in. The friends he would make would last a few weeks before they were gone again.
Tired of making friends, he soon gave up and adapted to loner status.
Even not having any friends, the people he met on the streets were cool and fun people. The longboard he acquired through doing odd jobs here and there got him places. It also attracted stares because not many people had longboards anymore.
They are considered a rare item to those who know about them. Back when there was no ghetto in the city, almost everyone had one.
At home Dawson's mother slowly became ill and one day when he came home, his father was crying and as Dawson dropped his stuff in the doorway he saw his mother.
She was laying on their couch with a smile on her lips. Her skin was a grey color and his father sat beside the couch, crying.
Dawson turned suddenly and grabbed his longboard and was running through the alleys.
People darted here and there. Several curses and names were thrown his way as he pushed his way through the people.
Hopping on his longboard, he sped his way down the busy street. The sidewalk was full of people but they quickly moved out of the way.
Stopping at an intersection, Dawson looked at the sky.
