Photo by by Javardh on Unsplash

By Elias Dimakos

A man has many masks, and a man has many faces. He stands in his home, considering what he will wear today. He does not decide what shirt or shoes or sweater to wear. No. The man decides what face he will wear. Who will he be? Who will the man become today?

***

The man wakes. He sits up on a cot inside his dingy apartment, stowed away above a convenience store. It is not the light of the sun that wakes him but the darkness of the night. He stands up. Catching himself in the mirror, he looks away in shame. The scars and marks that litter his body like stars in the night sky do not frighten him. No, it is his face. The face of many things: the face of a boy beaten by his father. The face of a boy bullied by his peers. The face of a boy betrayed by his only love. The face of a boy who could never outrun his past. 

Nailed to the unfinished drywall hang his prized possessions – his masks. Today the man chooses Pax, a slender face, with small lips and short-cropped hair. He removes Pax from the hook, staring at the face as the moonlight pours through his cracked window. As the man pulls Pax over himself he feels his personality shifting, almost as if he is becoming Pax. As he heads for the streets, finding safety in the darkness, he takes one last look in the mirror. Looking at his new face, he sees an impenetrable shield. A shield that protects man from the world. 

***

The man usually wakes in the night, skulking in the shadows, allowing the darkness to be a cloak. He finds it easier to protect himself this way. Tonight the man chooses Enzo. Enzo has a small moustache with stubble on his chin and a sharp jawline that outlines his face. As the man pulls Enzo’s face over his own, he remembers the night before. A blur of darkness and strangers. Nobody paid any attention to Pax. Nobody would even remember he was there. 

As the man steps out of his apartment door, a vicious wind bites at his exposed skin. The man presses on in the night, reaching the busy part of town. Drunk college students force their way into bars, and nightclubs fill to the brim with people. The man always found peace in places like these, places where a person was rarely recognized, places where a person could sink into the crowd and become one of them. The man ends up finding himself in one of these places, a nightclub called The Dazy Night. For hours the man stands, his invisibility a drug to his addiction. The dim lighting and loud music make the man inconspicuous in this world. The man is invincible.

Suddenly, he is bumped and knocked out of his trance. 

“I apologize,” says the man, trying to avoid any interactions. “That’s quite alright. No need to apologize. What’s your name? I’m Dorian,” he says. “My name is… Enzo.” “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Enzo.” Dorian extends his arm, a smile cracking his face.

The man takes several moments to decide his next action. He has never had a spur-of-the-moment interaction like this. Why is this stranger being so kind? There is no reason. Is this how all people are? The man has no idea. He hasn’t spoken to a person in years. Maybe this is his chance to become a human again, to stop being so frightened of someone knowing who he is. 

The two men leave The Dazy Night, wandering the darkness. For hours, they talk about nothing and everything. Dorian is odd looking. He has crooked teeth and a crazy laugh that makes him seem mad. Maybe he is, but the man doesn’t mind. He is one of the first people that makes the man feel alive–like an actual person, not just a sack of flesh and bones hiding behind a mask. 

As the night begins to turn to day, Dorian suggests they part ways. Just as they say their goodbyes, it begins. At first, the rain falls lightly, but the man knows what is to come. Cutting Dorian off mid-sentence, he begins to run. His feet pound the pavement simultaneously with the rain. He sprints around a corner into a back alley, scaring a crow into the pitch-black sky, hoping to lose Dorian. 

Searching for refuge from the rain, with no success, the man is exposed. Vulnerable. He falls to his knees, the mask of Enzo sliding off his face and slipping between the crevices of his hands. Soon, the man’s face will be exposed for the world to see. They will know who he truly is, what he truly is. His shield is broken. Panic fills his throat, as the man hears Dorian’s footsteps coming nearer.

 “Enzo! Enzo!” he screams as he rounds the alley. The man kneels shrouded by darkness. He stays silent. “Hey, what was that? You just totally blew me off,” Dorian asks. “ I was having fun, man.”

Slowly the man rises, taking slow steps toward Dorian. Soon his cloak will be ripped off, and Dorian will bear witness to the truth. As the man steps out of the darkness and into the light, Dorian stumbles back, falling to the wet ground, for what he sees is not human: the face of a man scarred beyond recognition. Purple veins pulse from his skin, tissue is torn, and his eyes are as red as blood. A disturbing smile appears on the man’s face as he comes closer and closer to Dorian, his fear morphing into a lust for blood. 

“Now you see who I really am. You shouldn’t have followed me, Dorian. Now I have to do something that I don’t want to do,” the man says, still creeping closer. Every second, the man’s face becomes less and less protected by the night sky.  

“Yo-You’re a monster,” Dorain whispers, unable to muster any other words. 

“Yes. I guess I am,” the man cackles, coming closer and closer.

Dorian’s back is now pressed to the wall. More and more of the man’s mask drips off his face, falling in drops with the rain. As the man stands in front of Dorian, he can’t help but wonder what could’ve been. 

“You will make a fine mask for my collection.”