Façades
By SorenPixels
Pale. Everywhere she looked, pale. The day was bright, but the sun lacked any comfort. The wind tickled her nostrils, but brought no presents with it to delight her senses and fuel her imagination. Her ears perked up with the plethora of conversation surrounding her, faces passing by all masked and unintelligible. They smiled at one another, yet beneath they all ached. She could always see a their true faces after all. Apathy kills.
Someone spoke her name, though she barely acknowledged it, preferring the emptiness to false words and fraudulent company. The usual courtesies were exchanged; a tiresome endeavor as always. They kept talking and talking. Still talking.The pale began to fade, giving way to gray. This was a battle that could not be won through sheer willpower. Her compatriot gave no hint of concern, but offered up a solution in the form of a question oft asked. Spying her chance for retreat, she agreed and bid farewell. Don’t run.
Spying a hideaway among the many rooms, always such small walls; never any true privacy, she fell into the cool embrace of shadows. None would find her here, none could ever see her mask fall away completely even for a minute. Sharp breathes through clenched teeth.
A smell, a sight, a memory. Facial strains, darkness, light. Agony and irony in plethora. Familiar faces long gone. Tears. Where do they always come from? Why do they keep falling? Makeup, always having to fix her makeup. Not one sound, silence her ever faithful compatriot. Camaraderie from nothingness and no one. Peace at last.
Straightening up with practiced precision and perfect poise, the pretty pony princess prances from one shadow back into the other with her poignant presence intact. Polite pleasantries resume once more to precipitate the chance to placate the politicians' problems. Should, perchance, the masks remain? Perhaps another day, at least.
Seconds pass into minutes, as ponies meld past one another, seeking their next meeting. She could hardly move, too many eyes despite the approaching shadows. As the shadow of the day begins its gentle embrace, fewer and fewer pleasantries are exchanged and farewells are had. The darkness holds no comfort for them. As the last of the day’s light fades, color returns in cool, dulcet tones. It’s cold out.
A new challenger embraces the sky, providing subtle light to see by. Only a sliver of a curve tonight. She looks back to the rest of the city as the masks fall away one by one in the privacy of their homes. How many have another mask for then? Even alone, a mask can be useful, if terribly misshapen. If only she could follow.
Soft down meets her head. How many were sacrificed to make it? Yet it may just be necessary. Something old must always be given up to gain something new. Pale complexion greets her visage; an old reflection, and yet they were so young. What’s in a name? So many heard, so few remembered. Even fewer are left. Memento Mori.
Another lay expired outside, they’ve been ever bolder since the day. What drives their constant attempts is the same as everyone else. Such a waste of life, yet if they didn’t try, who would? Best to let them sort themselves out, it’s said. If only they’d find some other way to live. Some must simply be drawn to death.
Sleep comes quietly, a thief in the night to steal one away from their life for but a moment. Her mask lay beside her on the end table, having never left her face.