Writing Prompt
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STORY STARTER
Prompt submitted by Faust
You find an old mask in an antique shop, cobbled together with scraps of old metal and golden wire. The moment you try it on, you black out. You wake up the next morning, handcuffed to a bed and a scary woman sitting in a chair beside you.
Write a story beginning where the prompt left off
Writings
Al’s eyes fluttered open, his attempts to push himself up failed. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the white lights above before taking a look around his cell. The cell had a musty smell and was covered in grime. He noticed a woman sitting in corner away from him, jotting down notes. From her carefully pinned hair to her slick Vera Wang shoes, she looked utterly out of place.
“What’s happening?” He managed to stutter, his voice raw, from what, he couldn’t say. The woman remained silent, her hand flowing across the page as she cast sideways glances over at him, forcing him to evaluate himself. He was in a clean white jumper with a neat bandage wrapped around his torso. He began to notice a dull pain in his arm arm and head.
Finally, the woman broke her silence. “You have no recollection of last night?” She pondered, chuckling to herself as if is loss of memory were a comedic video she was only know just remembering. She begin scribbling notes again.
“No,” Al croaked.
“Hmmm, that makes the task ahead of us rather hard.” The woman replied, clicking her pen and setting her notepad aside. “Are you sure? Nothing?” She pressed on.
“Nothing.” Al’s forehead crinkled as he thought deeper about the night before. The mask. He could recall the mask. The way it beckoned for him. How it shimmered among the piles of junk in the thrift store. How it begged for a worthy host. He remembered holding the delicate mask in his hands. He remembered the feeling of power that surged through his veins when the mask contorted to his face. And he remembered her.
The memories shot at him one by one, faster and faster and it took all his efforts to maintain a stoic expression. He saw her on the rooftop. He saw himself hovering over the side, eyes burning like stars through the eye sockets. And then he saw the gun. The weapon she wielded. The concussive blow that sent him reeling towards the concrete below. The mask had gone flying into the street only to be run over by a yellow hummer. the mask fell apart at impact as if the metal somehow unwelded itself from the time it popped off his face.
Meanwhile, he shot towards the ground, luckily, he bounced off an awning, landed on a short flight of stairs and rolled the rest of the way down towards the curb.
Al’s memories returned. The mask, his crime, this woman beside him all returned.
“Did you remember something?” The woman asked, suspiciously.
“No, nothing at all.” Al replied.
Opening his eyes jimmy was aware of a thick smoke filling his nostrils, he suddenly sat up, only then noticing the shackles binding him to the rotten bed. A woman’s voice spoke in the darkness “you will perish as the others did”. Shocked he followed the voice and saw a figure sitting in the darkness. He squinted and tried to focus but he couldn’t make out much. He tried to speak “what? Who are you?” But it only came out as a croak. Silence decended as jimmy tried to work out what was going on, how he got here. Out of nowhere the woman started laughing, a high, shrill, long cackle of a laugh and then she spoke again, barely a high whisper “I am the only one”. She stood up then, slow and wearily, bones creaking and grinding. She approached him slowly. Nearing the bed she staggered downward uneasily and came up with a bundle in her right arm. She stumbled up and took a breath and then made the rest of the way to the bed, and jimmy. Now above him jimmy saw a very old lady. Thin, greasy white hair, a wrinkly face as old as time itself and eyes, sad and desperate eyes. From somewhere a flash of recognition lit up his brain, but faded as quickly as it came. He tried to reach for it but his mind was too groggy still. Still above him, closer than before, the old lady reached into the bundle in her right arm and then held aloft in her left hand a mask. Suddenly the flashes of memory burned brighter in jimmys mind and he lay still and silent with shock. In the old woman’s right hand she revealed the final part of her little bundle, a long, curved, wickedly sharp knife, thick at the base, thin at the point. After a pause she raised the knife, high above jimmys gut and held it there. She then applied and fixed the mask to her face. Only then bringing the knife down with a deadly force and speed. And then jimmy remembered all. It came back in a rush, a flood, it only took one moment, it overwhelmed him, choked him, suffercated him, drowned him all at once. Leaving school, the shop, catching the eye of the pretty assistant, trying things on, mucking about, trying on the mask. And then the blood, the screams, the death, destruction and time, so much time. The young pretty assistant again, now old and haggard and slow, the mask again. The knife and the sweet release of death. And as the knife plunged through his soft flesh he cried with relief at this easy death. He died. And then he drew breath again. Reborn.
The woman starts to hum a song, you can’t quite figure out where you’ve heard it from you just know that you have heard it before. She rocking back and forth in a squeaky old rocking chair tucked in the corner of the room beside a window. You see her face as the moonlight glares on her face. You frantically ask her why you are there and how you got there. She just continues to rock back and forth humming that old, familiar song. The squeaking of the chair seems to get louder and louder as time goes on and you start to panic that this woman put you there and that you will never leave again or that maybe she has intentions of killing you. Everything is swarming inside your head of how you are going to make your escape. But the handcuffs are too tight. As you pull harder they tighten tighter. “You can try to get out all you want but you made the choice to put you here now your mine!” You turn to her and say “what?” You heard what she had said you just wanted to see if she would talk again. She doesn’t say anything back. You ask “what choice did I make exactly?” No reply. You ask “what did I do to deserve this?” Still nothing but humming and squeaking fills the silence. Hours go by and the woman stops rocking, stops humming, and slowly stands up. She walks over to you, you start to panic again, not knowing what she’s about to do. She reaches her hand close to your face and gently runs the back of her hand across your quivering cheek. She says “ don’t worry dear this won’t hurt...much.” And starts to laugh. She leaves the room. You are frantically trying to set yourself free before she gets back. You hear the doorknob slowly start to turn, your crying historically knowing something awful is about to happen. But what.. what could she do to you, and for what you didn’t do anything you ponder inside your head. She creeps slowly through the dark room with a glowing red hot iron. You are now freaking out knowing she coming right for you with it. She raises it up to your cheek and asks “why did you have my mask?” You say “is this what all this is about?... a mask?” She’s angrily says “it’s not just a mask, It’s my work! And you disrespect me by putting it on!” You say “ listen lady I’m sorry I put it on. I’m sorry I even touched it! I just found it and put it on and woke up here.” She is furious now and presses the hot iron across your face. She says now you shall have to wear a mask as I have all my life. The lights switch on and you see her face is burned horribly. Your in so much pain and then wake up. All a dream.
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