The Masquerade

Courtesy of Matthis Elle and Unsplash

For the lovers of excess, the event was a treasure trove filled to the brim with temptations. They came to the party in full regalia, costumed in such a way that their true selves were expertly tucked away, never to be glimpsed by the other partygoers, they were beautifully anonymous, and as such, they could put their ugliness on full display. Behind the masks designed to hide their identities, their true selves peeked out, a malicious gleam in untrustworthy eyes, an unhealthy sparkle that belied the evil in their hearts.

Here debauchery was accepted and the more gluttonous your wants, the more accepted you were. In this place, the women offered their skin much like a shopkeeper offered their wares, priced reasonably. Indeed, there was something for every budget. The men, not to be outdone, made themselves as easily bought, parading their bare flesh like cattle in an auction. Everything was for sale, nothing forbidden while the masks were on.

Some of the party-goers had even seen fit to bring their unfortunate offspring along, offerings for the more curiously bent leanings, although the price tags were a bit higher, think specialty items. Even though the masks were able to keep hidden their identities the desperation and desire to be invisible were impossible to mistake and made each of them seem similar to the next. Still, the party raged on.

Come Monday, these same people would be seen sans masks, on the streets, in their so-called real lives, with no evidence of the identity of their secret selves. Even in their minds, that other self that dwelled within them was a secret, something they could have told you they knew nothing about, and they would have been telling the truth. Such is the way of men and women with unnatural desires and black hearts.

At midnight, the crowd becomes frenzied, a huge undulating wave of intermingling bodies writhing against each other, moans of pleasure and frustration blending to make calliope music for a mad circus. The party-goers become frantic as the time to recede into society draws near.

When their dance has reached its eerie climax and ebbed down into a gently rolling mass of sweaty flesh and protruding limbs, the attendees know the time is at hand, and depart back into the world they briefly escaped from, where they will wait until it's time to wear their masks again.

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The Masquerade was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.