Le Masquerade

Jahari Dodd

“And, after all, what is a lie? ’Tis but the truth in a masquerade.”

            The man with the beaming vision in his smooth dark eyes waits down in the village, for the lights and music at the castle. The Ricchezza were giving a ball, as always. The man admires their glitz and glamour and hopes to one day join them in their festivities. But would they accept them; he seemed to be simple, a judgment based solely on physical appearance. They had preset rules in the land, unspoken but very known. All of the lowly man’s kind, the Povero, was to end up in jail or hell almost none of the Povero ever reached a higher status. Most, who aspired to reach to the top, were brought down by on own accord.

            This lowly man, Veritas, received a life changing opportunity. An invitation to become apart of the Ricchezza, an esteemed member of society, only if he assimilated.  He would enter the Richezza’s Masquerade. The chance he received immediately made him the most envied and desired of all the local Povero. He was said to believe he was superior than his fellow down trodden. They have always felt that he was a little different and this just fueled his fire. Never was he particularly favored with his own, and this forced him to create quite the resistance against his own feelings and emotions. He had put a wall between the truth of his self and reality of the world around him. He felt the need to not address his true feelings so he can further his success without letting his emotions get in the way.  And away he goes to the upper echelon of status.

            Welcome to the most exciting event of the century! Again. This is the ball where rich and famous flaunt and strut their expensive stuff. The expensive jewels, blended with a few cubic zirconiums, are shining in the beaming light from the chandeliers. All of the flowing dresses covered with furs, laces, and satins, made with 50 % polyester, are gently sweeping the floor below them. Then, notice the elaborately elegant masks. In all their beauty, they are most detailed and exquisite. The masks are the most endeared part of this upper social status. It only validates you as a person reveals what you want to the world around you; it shows the persona that is desired, even if not accurate. For some they are transparent, for others they are as thick as a dark nights fog. Enter Veritas here.

            He creeps in as unsuspecting as possible, yet he immediately hears the whispers. That is what the Ricchezza is most known for, their whispers. For these are not your ordinary whispers. They are but the most deadly reverberations of the human voice. These vocal shadows were most venomous murmurs that could humanly pass through any social circle. Yet still Veritas creeps in. For he knows he is just passing through. It is not his destiny to dwell among them, he has his eye set on ruling them. Even still the easiest way to succeed, in this realm higher than his own, was to pass through this Masquerade.

            Unbeknownst to him, Veritas had the most desirable and excellent mask. It was dazzling with its black satin cover, and onyx jewels surrounding the frame. The only thing peculiar was that his mask was held onto with a long rod, made of Black Walnut. Its brilliant black bark had been refined and glazed to fit the beauty and perfection of mask. And yet Veritas thought he could slip by. Looming thunderous clouds the Masqueraders encompass him. Using intimidation over force to acquire his alluring façade.  They crave the mask in a most unhealthy and vile way. They had no desire to look past the mask their lust was set on its brilliant beauty. At no time was Veritas in the view. In the beginning he pressed on, not even paying any mind. Then the fatigue set in.

            Way back when, Veritas dreamed of going to the Masquerade Ball. So many days and night, he dreamed of how his life would be. Then an invitation appeared but only if he passed the hurdles and assimilated to current culture.  So he set out on his journey waiting for all possible hurdles and obstacle. He was physically tested by the creatures of the concrete, he was mentally tested by the creatures of the academia, and he was emotionally tested by creatures of him home. The Povero were the last and final test, for if he could with stand his own kind, he could persevere to the Masquerade. After all the barriers and enclosing of the Ricchezza the fatigue set in.

            His grip on the mask relaxes slightly, as he settles in the ball for a moment. Looking around for others like him, he spots others with rod held masks, a group of them all crowded in a corner. As he approaches, the group holds their masks tighter around their faces. Their Povero just as he was. As he attempts to converse or even make contact them, begin to reach and pull on his mask, even worse than the previous masqueraders. Shocked, dazed, and aghast, Veritas loosens his grip even more on his mask. Punch drunk from the alarming blows he has just received, he sways to a seat in the heart of the ball. This gives him the chance to observe.

            Never before had Veritas seen the truth of the situation, he was always living in place where everyone wore a mask. He couldn’t tell a criminal from an angel, a rebel from a ruler. All covered in secret silence, the most elite mingled with least of these, and neither of them knew it. Occasionally Veritas noticed the fellow Povero attempting  to dance with the Ricchezza. You could see them trying and struggling to keep the pace of the Masquerade’s dance. Despite all the signs telling him no, Veritas, after regaining strength, stands up and begins to sway with movement of the crowd. Almost seamlessly he catches the rhythm and falls right inline to Masquerade’s most enticing motions. The Povero want to expose him for he doesn’t deserve to be so easily assimilated. Back off in the corner his fellows glare.

            The same path that Veritas had trodden to get to this place, they had taken with the same endurance and test. They, however, had not yet mastered the skill of syncopating with the rhythm. He has conquered were they stumbled. Veritas however has studied the dance. Understand that the Masquerade’s dance is nothing new; it is a dance that has been passed down and traveled across the world. As ever present as it seems the dance is quite elusive. One has to know were it is to acquire the steps. Veritas for years before had studied the steps and crafted them to become second nature to him. Thus is musical percolation was easy.

            As much as this dance came easy it also was quite tiring. The once solid grip was nearly liberated and the dancers who watched noticed. They saw his mask release from his face, and notices his swaying legs begin to give way. The time was now to obtain his most beautiful mask. All of this was unbeknownst to him.