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11 - The Haunted Mask Page 6
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Sabrina grabbed the mask top. “It’s so warm!” she exclaimed. “You must be suffocating in there.”
“Just pull!” Carly Beth wailed.
Sabrina pulled.
“Ouch! Not so hard!” Carly Beth cried. “It really hurts!”
Sabrina pulled more gently, but the mask didn’t budge. She lowered her hands to the cheeks and pulled.
“Ouch!” Carly Beth shrieked. “It’s really stuck to my face.”
“What’s this thing made of?” Sabrina asked, staring intently at the mask. “It doesn’t feel like rubber. It feels like skin.”
“I don’t know what it’s made of, and I don’t care,” Carly Beth grumbled. “I just want it off. Maybe we should cut it off. You know. With scissors.”
“And wreck the mask?” Sabrina asked.
“I don’t care!” Carly Beth exclaimed, tugging furiously on it. “I really don’t! I just want out! If I don’t get this thing off me, I’m going to freak out. I’m serious!”
Sabrina put a calming hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Okay. Okay. One more try. Then we’ll cut it off.”
She narrowed her eyes as she examined the mask. “I should be able to reach underneath it and pull it away,” she said, thinking out loud. “If I slip my hands up through the neck, I can stretch it out and then push it up.”
“Well, go ahead. Just hurry!” Carly Beth pleaded.
But Sabrina didn’t move. Her dark eyes grew wide, and her mouth dropped open as she studied the mask. She uttered a soft gasp of surprise.
“Sabrina? What’s the matter?” Carly Beth demanded.
Sabrina didn’t reply. Instead, she ran her fingers over Carly Beth’s throat.
Her astonished expression remained frozen on her face. She moved behind Carly Beth and ran her fingers along the back of Carly Beth’s neck.
“What is it? What’s the matter?” Carly Beth demanded shrilly.
Sabrina ran a hand back through her black hair. Her forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Carly Beth,” she said finally, “there’s something very weird going on here.”
“What? What are you talking about?” Carly Beth demanded.
“There’s no bottom to the mask.”
“Huh?” Carly Beth’s hands shot up to her neck. She felt around frantically. “What do you mean?”
“There’s no line,” Sabrina told her in a trembling voice. “There’s no line between the mask and your skin. No place to slip my hand in.”
“But that’s crazy!” Carly Beth cried. She moved her hands to her throat, pushing up the skin, feeling for the bottom of the mask. “That’s crazy! Just crazy!”
Sabrina raised her hands to her face, her features tight with horror.
“That’s crazy! Crazy!” Carly Beth repeated in a high-pitched, frightened voice.
But as her trembling fingers desperately explored her neck, Carly Beth realized that her friend was right.
There was no longer a bottom to the mask. No place where the mask ended. No opening between the mask and Carly Beth’s skin.
The mask had become her face.
22
Carly Beth’s legs trembled as she made her way to the mirror in the front entryway. Her hands still frantically searched her throat as she stepped up to the large, rectangular wall mirror and brought her face close to the glass.
“No line!” she cried. “No mask line!”
Sabrina stood a few feet back, her expression troubled. “I—I don’t understand it,” she muttered, staring at Carly Beth’s reflection.
Carly Beth uttered a sharp gasp. “Those aren’t my eyes!” she screamed.
“Huh?” Sabrina stepped up beside her, still staring into the mirror.
“Those aren’t my eyes!” Carly Beth wailed. “My eyes don’t look like that.”
“Try to calm down,” Sabrina urged softly. “Your eyes—”
“They’re not mine! Not mine!” Carly Beth cried, ignoring her friend’s plea for calm. “Where are my eyes? Where am I? Where am I, Sabrina? This isn’t me in here!”
“Carly Beth—please calm down!” Sabrina urged. But her voice came out choked and frightened.
“It isn’t me!” Carly Beth declared, gaping in open-mouthed horror at her reflection, her hands pressed tightly against the grotesquely wrinkled cheeks of the mask. “It isn’t me!”
Sabrina reached out to her friend. But Carly Beth pulled away. With a high-pitched wail, a cry of horror and despair, she flung herself through the hallway. She pulled open the front door, struggling with the lock, sobbing loudly.
“Carly Beth—stop! Come back!”
Ignoring Sabrina’s pleas, Carly Beth plunged back into the darkness. The storm door slammed behind her.
As she began to run, she could hear Sabrina’s frantic cries from the doorway: “Carly Beth—your coat! Come back! You forgot your coat!”
Carly Beth’s sneakers thudded over the hard ground. She ran into the darkness beneath the trees, as if trying to hide, as if trying to keep her hideous face from view.
She reached the sidewalk, turned right, and kept running.
She had no idea where she was going. She only knew she had to run away from Sabrina, away from the mirror.
She wanted to run away from herself, away from her face, the hideous face that had stared back at her in the mirror with those frightening, unfamiliar eyes.
Someone else’s eyes. Someone else’s eyes in her head.
Only it was no longer her head. It was an ugly green monster head that had attached itself to hers.
Uttering another cry of panic, Carly Beth crossed the street and kept running. The dark trees, black against the starless night sky, swayed and shivered overhead. Houses whirred past, a blur of orange light from their windows.
Into the darkness she ran, breathing noisily through the ugly, flat nose. She lowered her smooth, green head against the wind and stared at the ground as she ran.
But no matter where she turned her gaze, she saw the mask. She saw the face staring back at her, the ugly, puckered skin, the glowing orange eyes, the rows of jagged animal teeth.
My face… my face…
High-pitched screams startled her from her thoughts.
Carly Beth glanced up to see that she had run into a group of trick or treaters. There were six or seven of them, all turned toward her, screaming and pointing.
She opened her mouth wide, revealing the sharp fangs, and growled at them, a deep animal growl.
The growl made them grow silent. They stared hard at her, trying to decide if she was threatening them or only kidding.
“What are you supposed to be?” a girl in a red-and-white ruffled clown costume called to her.
I’m supposed to be ME, but I’m not! Carly Beth thought bitterly.
She ignored the question. Lowering her head, turning away from them, she started to run again.
She could hear them laughing now. They were laughing in relief, she knew, glad she was leaving them.
With a bitter sob, she turned the corner and kept running.
Where am I going? What am I doing? Am I going to keep running forever?
The questions roared through her mind.
She stopped short when the party store came into view.
Of course, she thought. The party store.
The strange man in the cape. He will help me. He will know what to do.
The man in the cape will know how to get this mask off.
Feeling a surge of hope, Carly Beth jogged toward the store.
But as she neared it, her hope dimmed as dark as the store window. Through the glass she could see that all the lights were out. The store was as dark as the night. It was closed.
23
As she stared into the darkened store, a wave of despair swept over Carly Beth.
Her hands raised against the window, she pressed her head against the glass. It felt cool against her hot forehead. The mask’s hot forehead.
She closed her eyes.
Wh
at do I do now? What am I going to do?
“It’s all a bad dream,” she murmured out loud. “A bad dream. I’m going to open my eyes now, and wake up.”
She opened her eyes. She could see her eyes, her glowing orange eyes, reflected in the dark window glass.
She could see her grotesque face, staring darkly back at her.
“Noooo!” With a shudder that shook her entire body, Carly Beth slammed her fists against the window.
Why didn’t I wear my mother’s duck costume?
she asked herself angrily. Why was I so determined to be the scariest creature that ever roamed on Halloween? Why was I so determined to terrify Chuck and Steve?
She swallowed hard. Now I’m going to scare people for the rest of my life.
As the bitter thoughts rolled through her mind, Carly Beth suddenly became aware of movement inside the store. She saw a dark shadow roll over the floor. She heard footsteps.
The door rattled, then opened a few inches.
The store owner poked his head out. His eyes narrowed as they studied Carly Beth. “I stayed late,” he said quietly. “I expected to see you again.”
Carly Beth was startled by his calmness. “I—I can’t get it off!” she sputtered. She tugged at the top of her head to demonstrate.
“I know,” the man said. His expression didn’t change. “Come inside.” He pushed the door open the rest of the way, then stepped back.
Carly Beth hesitated, then walked quickly into the dark store. It was very warm inside.
The owner turned on a single light above the front counter. He was no longer wearing the cape, Carly Beth saw. He wore black suit pants and a white dress shirt.
“You knew I’d come back?” Carly Beth demanded shrilly. The raspy voice she had acquired inside the mask revealed both anger and confusion. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t want to sell it to you,” he replied, staring at the mask. He shook his head, frowning. “You remember, don’t you? You remember that I didn’t want to sell it to you?”
“I remember,” Carly Beth replied impatiently. “Just help me take it off. Okay? Help me.”
He stared hard at her. He didn’t reply.
“Help me take it off,” Carly Beth insisted, shouting. “I want you to take it off!”
He sighed. “I can’t,” he told her sadly. “I can’t take it off. I’m really sorry.”
24
“Wh-what do you mean?” Carly Beth stammered.
The store owner didn’t reply. He turned toward the back of the store and motioned for her to follow him.
“Answer me!” Carly Beth shrieked. “Don’t walk away! Answer me! What do you mean the mask can’t be taken off?”
She followed him into the back room, her heart pounding. He clicked on the light.
Carly Beth blinked in the sudden brightness. The two long shelves of hideous masks came into focus. She saw a bare spot on the shelf where hers had stood.
The grotesque masks all seemed to stare at her. She forced herself to look away from them. “Take this mask off—now!” she demanded, moving to block the store owner’s path.
“I can’t remove it,” he repeated softly, almost sadly.
“Why not?” Carly Beth demanded.
He lowered his voice. “Because it isn’t a mask.”
Carly Beth gaped at him. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
“It isn’t a mask,” he told her. “It’s a real face.”
Carly Beth suddenly felt dizzy. The floor tilted. The rows of ugly faces glared at her. All of the bulging, bloodshot, yellow and green eyes seemed to be trained on her.
She pressed her back against the wall and tried to steady herself.
The store owner walked over to the display shelf and gestured to the ugly, staring heads. “The Unloved,” he said sadly, his voice lowered to a whisper.
“I—I don’t understand,” Carly Beth managed to choke out.
“These are not masks. They are faces,” he explained. “Real faces. I made them. I created them in my lab—real faces.”
“But—but they are so ugly—” Carly Beth started. “Why—?”
“They weren’t ugly in the beginning,” he interrupted, his voice bitter, his eyes angry. “They were beautiful. And they were alive. But something went wrong. When they were taken out of the lab, they changed. My experiments—my poor heads—were a failure. But I had to keep them alive. I had to.”
“I—I don’t believe it!” Carly Beth exclaimed breathlessly, raising her hands to the sides of her face, her green, distorted face. “I don’t believe any of it.”
“I am telling the truth,” the store owner continued, running a finger over one side of his narrow mustache, his eyes burning into Carly Beth’s. “I keep them here. I call them The Unloved because no one will ever want to see them. Occasionally, someone wanders into the back room—you, for example—and one of my faces finds a new home….”
“Nooooo!” Carly Beth uttered a cry of protest, more an animal wail than a human cry.
She stared at the gnarled, twisted faces on the shelf. The bulging heads, the open wounds, the animal fangs. Monsters! All monsters!
“Take this off!” she screamed, losing control. “Take this off! Take it off!”
She began tearing frantically at her face, trying to pull it off, trying to rip it off in pieces.
“Take it off! Take it off!”
He raised a hand to quiet her. “I am sorry. The face is your face now,” he said without expression.
“No!” Carly Beth shrieked again in her new, raspy voice. “Take it off! Take it off—NOW!”
She tore at the face. But even in her anger and panic, she knew her actions were useless.
“The face can be removed,” the store owner told her, speaking softly.
“Huh?” Carly Beth lowered her hands. She stared hard at him. “What did you say?”
“I said there is one way the face can be removed.”
“Yes?” Carly Beth felt a powerful chill run down her back, a chill of hope. “Yes? How? Tell me!” she pleaded. “Please—tell me!”
“I cannot do it for you,” he replied, frowning. “But I can tell you how. However, if it ever again attaches itself to you or to another person, it will be forever.”
“How do I get it off? Tell me! Tell me!” Carly Beth begged. “How do I get it off?”
25
The light flickered overhead. The rows of bloated, distorted faces continued to stare at Carly Beth.
Monsters, she thought.
It’s a room full of monsters, waiting to come alive.
And now I’m one of them.
Now I’m a monster, too.
The floorboards creaked as the store owner moved away from the display shelves and came up close to Carly Beth.
“How do I get this off me?” she pleaded. “Tell me. Show me—now!”
“It can only be removed once,” he repeated softly. “And it can only be removed by a symbol of love.”
She stared at him, waiting for him to continue.
The silence filled the room. Heavy silence.
“I—I don’t understand,” Carly Beth stammered finally. “You’ve got to help me. I don’t understand you! Tell me something that makes sense! Help me!”
“I can say no more,” he said, lowering his head, shutting his eyes, and wearily rubbing his eyelids with his fingers.
“But—what do you mean by a symbol of love?” Carly Beth demanded. She grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands. “What do you mean? What do you mean?”
He made no attempt to remove her hands. “I can say no more,” he repeated in a whisper.
“No!” she shouted. “No! You have to help me! You have to!”
She could feel her rage explode, could feel herself burst out of control—but she couldn’t stop herself.
“I want my face back!” she shrieked, pounding on his chest with both fists. “I want my face back! I want myself back!”
&nbs
p; She was screaming at the top of her lungs now, but she didn’t care.
The store owner backed away, motioning with both hands for her to be quiet. Then, suddenly, his eyes opened wide in fear.
Carly Beth followed his gaze to the display shelves.
“Ohh!” She uttered a startled cry of horror as she saw the rows of faces all begin to move.
Bulging eyes blinked. Swollen tongues licked at dry lips. Dark wounds began to pulsate.
The heads were all bobbing, blinking, breathing.
“What—what is happening?” Carly Beth cried in a trembling whisper.
“You’ve awakened them all!” he cried, his expression as frightened as hers.
“But—but—”
“Run!” he screamed, giving her a hard shove toward the doorway. “Run!”
26
Carly Beth hesitated. She turned back to stare at the heads bobbing on the shelves.
Fat, dark lips began to move, making wet sucking sounds. Crooked fangs clicked up and down. Ugly, inhuman noses twitched and gasped air noisily.
The heads, two long rows of them, throbbed to life.
And the eyes—the blood-veined, bulging eyes—the green eyes, the sickly yellow eyes, the bright scarlet eyes, the disgusting eyeballs hanging by threads—they were all on her!
“Run! You’ve awakened them!” the store owner screamed, his voice choked with fear. “Run! Get away from here!”
Carly Beth wanted to run. But her legs wouldn’t cooperate. Her knees felt wobbly and weak. She suddenly felt as if she weighed a thousand pounds.
“Run! Run!” The store owner repeated his frantic cry.
But she couldn’t take her eyes off the throbbing, twitching heads.
Carly Beth gaped at the hideous scene, frozen in terror, feeling her legs turn to Jell-O, feeling her breath catch in her throat. And as she watched, the heads rose up and floated into the air.
“Run! Hurry! Run!”
The store owner’s voice seemed far away now.
The heads began to jabber in rumbling, deep voices, drowning out his frantic cries. They murmured excitedly, making only sounds, no words, like a chorus of frogs.