The Mask Maker (2 page)

His mouth dropped open and he shook my hand, wiping dirt on it in the process. "No way."

We talked for several minutes while we examined the dirt for movement before the door to the shop opened and a man appeared in the doorway. He was a thin man, with a crooked nose and a pale face that had a frown plastered on it. It scared me to see him there and I backed away from the building a bit.

"Alexander, what do you think you're doing?" The man asked. His voice was thin, but his tone sounded cold enough to freeze all of the water in the ground.

"I was just talking to Luk, father." Alexander motioned to me, but he didn't look in my direction.

"And what have I told you about talking to other boys?"

"I just thought that it would be alright. He seemed nice."

"They always seem nice at first, Alexander. We've been over this. More than once, if my memory serves me correctly."

The whole situation didn't sit well with me and I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. I was nine, and I felt that I was a pretty nice kid.

 "Come inside, Alexander. Maybe you can come out later when there are fewer wanderers around." He looked at me. "And maybe you should run along unless you intend to buy something."

Alexander slowly walked back into the shop. His father stared at me from the doorway for a few seconds as if he wanted to say something else to me. Instead, he nodded once before turning around and slamming the door shut. From then on, I rarely saw Alexander again. From time to time I would catch him sweeping the porch clean, but he would never look at me.

A bird squawked in the distance and I was suddenly brought back to the task at hand. I wasn't a little kid anymore and his father wasn't around any longer. All I had to do was walk up to the porch and go through the door. It was as simple as that.     

My legs buckled a bit as I walked up the path. The building loomed over me, casting an eerie shadow. At least on the covered porch it felt cooler than it did out on the street. There was a small sign that had been tacked onto the door that read, "Please enter. Knocking is not necessary". I put a hand on the doorknob, turned it, and slowly pushed it open. A bell rang out above me.

"Come in, and please shut the door quickly. I've finally got this place at a manageable temperature," came a voice from somewhere inside of the shop.

I quickly shut the door behind me and looked around. The place was very cramped and dark, with only a few gas lamps that were set up around the room. The rest of the place was covered in rows and rows of masks of various designs and colors. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to their placement. There were beautiful feathered ones with beaks in one corner of the room. At another end, there were grotesque looking gargoyles peering out. There were animals, creatures, humans, and a host of other things. There were masks of all shapes and colors, all finished save for the eyes, which just needed a face to look out of them. It was overwhelming and fascinating at the same time.

"Can I help you?" The voice called out again. It was familiar, if slightly older and deeper than the last time I had heard it.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and managed to spit out, "I'm just here about the masks."

There was a small laugh. "Most people come here because they're looking for a mask. Is there something in particular that you're looking for? I have just about anything you could want, and if I happen to not have it, I can certainly make it for you. Fair prices and all."

After taking a second to compose myself, I took a deep breath and continued, "I'm here because of the Festival of Parth. Just to see how far along the masks are."

"Of course you are. About the only reason people come to call this time of year." The voiced sounded a little down that time.

"Had I known that this was what was in here, maybe I would have stopped by more often." That was true. The masks were amazing to look at. There was another pause as I stood in the middle of the shop. With the eyeless faces staring at me, I was becoming uneasy.

"I'm sorry, but is there a chance that we can talk face to face?" I asked, still looking around the place for signs of where Alexander was. "It's just a little hard to talk like this when I can't see you."

"You actually want to see me?"

"Well, sure. I mean, of course? Why not?" Actually, I really did want to see him. So far, nothing bad had happened and he sounded perfectly normal. Nothing at all like most of the stories had said, and I was more than a little curious as to what he looked like now.

There was a long pause between us. I almost thought that he had left. "Hello?" I asked to the empty faces.

"I don't think that's a good idea." His voice was quieter than before.

"Why not?"

"I just don't think it's a good idea, that's all."

"It's just a little weird, not being able to see you. I don't like being stared at by someone I can't see."

There was a scuffling noise as if a chair was being moved. "I think it's time that you left. You tell Perry that his masks will be completed as I said they would be. He can pick them up the day of."

"Hey, I didn't mean to offend you or anything. I was just—"

"Get out of here!" He screamed at me and, startled, I ran out of the shop and back out onto the dirt road, the sun glaring into my eyes. What was all that about?

"Too scared to go in?" A voice shouted behind me and I could hear a group laugh in response.

"Lord, Pat. Don't you have some old lady to terrorize?" The other guys must have finished with the construction of the stage because they were all walking along the road, Pat standing in the middle and looking smug with himself. Perry kept behind the group, but I noted he shot Pat a dark look.

"Can't you just leave people alone today?" He asked.

"It's not my fault Luk can't be man enough to go in there."

Perry shook his head. "Just go home, Pat. You'll be lucky to graduate with an attitude like that." It was an empty threat and Pat knew it, but he still motioned for the other guys to follow him towards the residential district.

"There is something severely wrong with that boy," Perry said to me, folding his arms across his chest. "What's the matter with you?"

"Your masks will be ready in time. You can pick them up before the festival," I said.

His eyes squinted as he looked up towards the mask shop. "Things didn't go so well, I take it?"

"He kicked me out."

He sighed. "I was afraid things wouldn't work so well. Not to fret, alright? He just needs some time to warm up to new people. He's had it rough."

"He talks to you? I mean, not just about orders and stuff?" I had a feeling Perry knew more about Alexander than he had said before.

He didn't answer, but began leading the way to the residential district, Pat having walked far enough ahead that we wouldn't risk running into him again. "I knew his father. I couldn't let the boy just stay in there alone after he died, could I? He's only sixteen, after all. Fourteen at the time. Jeez, I hadn't even realized. He's been running the shop himself for two years now."

I stared at him, my mouth halfway open. "Wait. You mean he's my age? He makes all of that and he's my age?" It shouldn't have been shocking to me. He had seemed near my age when I first met him, but it was surprising that he was so talented at such a young age.

"For everything that his father was—and he wasn't that good of a man, mind you—he was a damn fine teacher. You saw the things that he can make in there?" I nodded. "I'd venture to guess that he's going to be even better than his father ever dreamed of being."

We had reached my tiny home, where I could see my mother was crouched in the front yard, tending to something in her garden. She always seemed to be out there. I was about to bid farewell to Perry when an idea struck me.

"You know Alexander pretty well then?" I asked.

"I certainly do. Why?"

"What types of things does he like?"

He eyed me for a moment, as if he were arguing with himself over whether or not he should tell me. "He has a fondness for anything that can be made by hand. That's the only hint I'm giving you. Now don't go getting into trouble. You've got to be at practice tomorrow." I nodded and thanked him, watching as he walked along the other small houses on our street. When he left, I said hello to my mother and went inside to think.

So I knew that he liked things that were handmade. That left me with a lot of options and a lot of possibilities to get it wrong. Long after my mother had gone to bed and the sun had set behind the trees, I sat hunched over my desk. My weapons of choice: a knife and a block of dark wood. Not a lot to work with. It wasn't until well after the witching hour that I had produced something that I thought was somewhat presentable. Scrawling a note on a scrap of paper, I attached it to the figurine and snuck back outside into the night.

The roads around town were far more peaceful at night. Fewer people were out and almost all the lights had been extinguished inside the houses and shops. The only light came from tall lamps that had been set up every few yards, creating a pleasant yellow glow across the streets. Even the mask shop seemed more peaceful than it did during the day. The place looked to no longer be menacing, but a regular building with its own sort of beauty. I carefully laid the carving at the front doorstep and returned to my home

*~*~*

As dawn broke and the sun began to creep through my window, I heard a loud knock at my door. My days normally did not start so early, but I managed to pull myself up and out of bed, yawning as I walked to answer it. My mother informed me that there was a visitor waiting for me outside. I felt my heart speed up. Had he known the gift was from me?

"Hello there," said Old Lady Chuff as I opened the door and raised a hand to block the sun from my eyes.

"Mmm, hello there," my voice came out raspy and I had to clear my throat.

"I heard what happened between you and Alexander yesterday." She stood there, smiling as if she were waiting for me to say something.

Nodding, I pushed the conversation along. "Oh, yeah, that. What exactly did you hear?"

"Well, just about how he overreacted. We talked this morning and it seemed like it was really bothering him."

"You talked to him?" Only a few days ago I had been under the impression that no one bothered to talk to him, but both Perry and Lady Chuff seemed to be looking out for him. Several people had the wrong image of him, it seemed.

"Of course I talked to him. We have tea every morning," she laughed.

"You do?"

"Every day for a year or so now. But that's not why I'm here right now. The point is that he feels sorry about what happened and he would like to try talking to you again. If you'll see him, that is. He wants to thank you for something, but he wouldn't tell me what it was. He'll be in his shop today, as usual. It's all up to you if you want to see him."

She nodded her head and moved away from my house as fast as her tiny legs would carry her. I leaned against the doorway, looking as she went back towards town. So there was a lot more to Alexander than I had realized. He wasn't as alone as most people seemed to think. I grabbed my student cloak and headed back into the morning sun.

*~*~*

Seeing his shop in the daylight again, I had to take a moment to compose myself before I could even make it to the porch. My hand on the doorknob, I felt as though I was never going to be able to turn it. After a few deep breaths, I opened it slowly. The bell sounded above me and I walked back into the darkness, the masks staring at me once again.

"Hello?" I wanted him to know that it was me in case he had changed his mind about seeing me again.

"You came back." He sounded relieved.

"Of course I did. I'm sorry about yesterday."

"No, that was my fault. I overreacted with you. I'm sorry."

I shook my head, though I wasn't sure if he could see me. "Really, it's alright. I shouldn't have asked to see you. For some reason, I didn't realize that you wouldn't want me to."

There was a rustling behind a shelf to my left. I could see something moving in the shadows. Finally, a figure appeared in front of me, filling up the space between a zebra shaped mask and one that looked like a gnome.

"I'm just used to people who don't like to actually face me while doing business. You know, 'Leave the mask on the counter; I'll leave the money and go.' You were only being nice and I should have realized that. Sorry. Again."

The stories about him aside, I couldn't understand why anyone would not want to talk to him. He was dressed from head to foot in black, just like he had been so many years ago, but he was beautiful. His hair was shaggier than it had been when we were children, but it still covered his eyes. He was very pale, with full lips that were a bright red. This was not the image of a monster, but a beautiful boy.

"Hello? Do you want me to go in the back again? Look, I understand what people say about me and I understand if you can't handle seeing me now that you have." He didn't sound sad, but as if he had expected this to happen. I wondered if it had happened before.

"No! I'm sorry. I guess I just must be tired or something. I got up not too long ago, and it's hot as usual outside. But the cool in here is helping to wake me up," I said. Sure, it was hot outside, but that wasn't what left me speechless.

He brightened a little and gave a faint smile. "Well, I'm glad that you enjoy it. I can't stand the heat while I'm working." He paused as he adjusted a mask that was on a rack next to him. "Now, about your masks from yesterday. As of right now, they're all done except for one. I had been hoping Perry would be by sometime soon so that I could talk to him about it, but it seems that everything has worked out. Thanks for saving me the trouble."

"You're already that far along?" Apparently Perry was right. He did have a good work ethic. Had we been responsible for making our masks, they wouldn't have been done until the day after graduation, and then they probably would have just been potato sacks with holes.

"Yeah, I'm almost done with everything. They were easy for the most part. I'm just having a little trouble with the last one. Perry was very specific about individual personalities, but he was having a hard time pegging down one of his students."