Creating Worlds - Mirror Me Pt.II
By Jared L.
Disclaimer: The following article is Part II of a fantasy series written by Jared L. It may contain mild fantasy darkness/violence, and/or mature topics. Reader discretion is advised.
To view other parts of this series, follow the links below:
This is the second part of “Mirror Me,” a short story written by Jared L. This short story was written from a previous English assignment, where students were encouraged to write an original short story.
Wes stared back at the man confused. He had never heard of a “High Order” before, especially in a leadership position. “So how do I get there?” he asked the man.
The man stood as if he was thinking hard about something for a moment. He unzipped a bag and grabbed a mask just large enough to cover Wes’ face. The mask was beaten up and scratched, not anywhere near mint condition. It appeared to Wes that it was another bunny mask, although different from the masquerade mask. Unlike the latter, it looked as if it would cover the entire face, leaving only the eye holes to show any skin.
“Take this and put it on quickly,” the man said, still shrouded in darkness. He stepped near the stretcher Wes lay on, stepping into the only light in the room. He was wearing a mask of his own style . His mask looked as if it were a wolf that was embedded in flame. Wes realized that the man had a chain around his right wrist, its shine casting a glow.
“Why would I have to wear a mask?” Wes asked, now having more questions than answers.
The man gave a confused expression. “Everyone wears a mask, some in different forms and shapes, others in different expressions and emotions. Your mask is your label, your agreement to this society.” He paused, thinking about the situation at hand. “But in this case, it seems as if you have no decision at this moment. You're already in the society, and now you can’t leave if you wanted to! I’ve heard of people who've tried…but never heard of them since.”
Wes quickly grabbed the mask, questioning the new world he was set in. “Take me to this ‘High Order’ then. I need to figure out what’s going on.”
“We will once you heal, sir,” the man said as he gave Wes the mask.
The next few days were used to recuperate. Wes’ damaged arms and chest healed enough for him to walk around without pain. The man gave Wes a yellow rain jacket, and the duo walked out of the gray, dreary halls and into a gray, dreary world. The streets were lined with buildings as tall as the highest mountains, and as thin as a shriveled flower. The street in between was made of muddy, brown bricks that darkened with the silent rain falling upon it. Men and women walked to and fro from place to place, each dressed as though they came from a funeral with their black outfits and umbrellas.
“Put your head down,” the man said in a whisper as he pulled his mask over his face. “They don’t like looking into your eyes like I do.”
Wes did as he was told, the rabbit’s eyes sliding over his. They walked a few blocks down, taking a few turns until they reached a large brick building. It was the only building that had any form of vibrant color and even that was muted. There were several flower pots full of colored flowers, but they looked off to Wes. Upon closer inspection, he saw that they were withered flowers that had been covered with brightly colored paints. Sticks and rods poked out of the ground, trying to prop up the decaying petals to look more lifelike. The man opened the large door and motioned Wes inside. They walked through a straight hall and another set of doors into the grand hall.
“Sit,” a booming voice said from atop the elevated semi-circle where the High Order sat, “You are amidst the High Order-” He looked down at the two and glared at the man who brought Wes to them. “We will deal with you shortly.”
Wes was intimidated. The large, looming shadows of the men and women of the High Order, the mystery of who or what they were, it all scared him.
“Sir, I just want to know what’s going on,” he stated firmly.
“I’m sure the morgue worker told you,” He said motioning to the walk-masked man. “Society has changed, and you must too.”
Another High Order member spoke up, her voice airy but stern. “One who is caught without a designated mask will be considered a traitor, and given proper punishment. It appears you are wearing the mask of member 28-57, correct?”
Wes’s voice started shaking, “I- I don’t know ma’am, I’ve only just got here.”
“We will let it pass,” another High Order member said, this one deep and booming. “But we must give you a new one. What is your name?”
“Wes Arbringer, sir.”
Each member jotted something down on a piece of paper in front of them. The booming-voice man bent down and picked up a mask from under his desk. “This shall be your mask, Wes Arbringer.” He stated firmly. “Now go, we have others waiting.”
Wes and the morgue worker exited the gates, closing the large doors behind them. The Morgue Worker stopped Wes and said, “You have a choice, son.”
Wes’s face was yet again confused. He bit his lip as he thought about what took place. “But the Order said I didn’t!”
“Yet you do. I know of a way to escape, but I cannot promise that there will be no pain or troubles along the way. Here is your choice: Take the mask, and conform to this gray society, or escape, and be free of the chains.”
And this, dear reader, is where you finish the story. The dilemma of a boy in a strange world. Should he take the mask, and live life under the control of corruption, or attempt the risky escape? Is freedom worth that much for him? Would it be worth the pain? That is for you to decide.
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Jared L. lives in North Carolina with his parents and two dogs. He is a sophomore in his fourth year at NorthStar Academy. Some of his interests include running a small-time YouTube channel as well as making mini films. In addition to being on the Navigator for his first year, he is also a part of NSA's student council, as well as NSA's esport team.