The Great Pretender

It was was a beautiful thing, that it was. Crafted of porceline and ribbons, shaped perfectly to her features, it was a work of art; something like magic. Delicate swirls of paint adorned its surface, accenting the smooth, silvery-white features. Crystal blue lips, and eyes outlined in smokey black were the first thing to catch your eyes; a brilliant contrast of eye catching sparkles and attention drawing shadows.

Next, your eyes would travel over the cheeks frosted with pale icey blue, the color just enough to be noticable, but faint enough to fit perfectly in with the rest of the beautiful image. This slight dusting of color wasnt enough to distract you from the most startling portion of this beautiful mask, however; two beautiful twin tears, painted with shining ebony, glistening with a soft blue tone. Nonetheless, as sorrowful as these eyes seemed, the lips of the perfectly crafted mouth were curved into a smile.

This was her mask. The mask of the Great Pretender. Every morn when she rose she would slip it into place, tying its silky black ribbons beneath her cascading raven colored locks. Clear blue eyes, the color of the pale, early morning sky, shone out from beneath the shadows of the mask. So perfectly fitted was it, that you might have thought there was no difference between her own face, and that of the masks, were it not for that unending smile of course.

Each day, she would wander, her sad eyes and sweet crafted smile the perfect distracter. Never was she asked the reasons for her mask, and never did she have to explain it. Everywhere she went she was simply known as the Great Pretender. But of course, those who are never questioned, and never speak are hardly known, no matter how well they are thought to be known. And so, the Great Prentender lived her life, hidden right in plain sight.

Now, it is true she was not questioned, but that did not mean that others did not talk. Of course, with any source of great curiosity, you can gaurentee a great amount of rumors. She was ugly and twisted, a thing of evil and black as sin. She was a thing of beauty and grace, far toe modest to show her true features, lest she might arouse jealousy. She was a liar, a theif, a murderess. She was scared, hiding, pure, an angel. She was this and that, everything and anything, and still, nothing at all. People will believe what they want, and say what they wish, but no one ever was absolutely positive about what to think of this Great Pretender. She was simply a girl behind a beautiful mask, only that and nothing more.

You will often hear that she was kind and curteous to those she met, this is true. You will also hear, just as frequently, that she rarely, if ever, spoke to anyone. This is also true, however, only to a certain extent. You see, there came a time each night, that the Great Pretender would return home, and remove her mask, set it down on its satin pillow beneath her mirror, and then crawl into her bed. How she ate and drank was a mystery in itself, let alone how she survived, but that is unimportant at this time.

To continue, years went by like this, sun up to sun down, through season after season, births and deaths, triumphs and tragedies, the circle unending. Surely, by this point, you are expecting that someone has interrupted this unending cycle. You will also find it safe to assume that you are correct. No one knows exactly when or how this happened, they only know that it did. One evening, another pair of hands removed her mask, and set it down on its pillow. One night, another pair of lips met hers, raising the first true smile that no one had seen. One late night, anothers voice slipped into her ears like silk and honey, warming, and chasing away the coldness and sorrow in her that her mask reflected and made beautiful. One morning, another hand stopped her from returning that mask to its place upon her face, and instead caressed the smooth skin that lay beneath.

Her cycle had been broken, her sorrow and pain exposed. Her suffering was writ all over her skin, in pale scars, bruises and tear stains. This Newcomer brushed the away, making room for himself beneath her skin, opening a place for himself within the chambers of her heart. She woke with his head upon her breast, went through the day with his hand grasping hers, and fell asleep with his warmth against her.

No one knows what became of the Great Pretender. No one knows the truth of her, of her past hidden in shadows, or her future concealed from sight. No one knows who, or where she is, and no one shall, because no one bothers to question what they barely remember, not that there is anyone who could answer the questions if there were any. No one, not even you, knows or cares about what became of the Great Pretender, because she was only that, a Pretender. A girl in a mask.

A figure hidden right before your eyes, that you will never, ever find.