Seven Masks at Once

A gloomy day...

Marking the days of my journey, I step through a rusted gate wrapped in vines. Time had worn so much of this entrance that even its walls are wrapped by the entangling plants. The stone path lead to one direction that it did not take a curve to the left or to the right. With the dark shades marking the trees, it seemed to carry over this heavy air. If my mood was as gloomy as this day is, the place made it worse than that.

For some reason, I can't help but just walk through this strange woods and end up somewhere. And in fact....I did. This mist-laden place seemed to have covered more than just anticipation as it began to let its veil clear away at every step I took. Now that it has covered everything around me, I couldn't tell which direction I'm walking to right now.

I grimaced at what welcomed me...or more of what I just saw right there and then.

Seven graves, different in shape but grave markers nonetheless. All bore names, all of it I recognize very well. Names that bore no meaning to everyone else but to myself. How did I end up in this graveyard, in this place where time forsook with abhorrence and despair?

Unless I'm the one feeling that despair and horror....

I ambled closely, trying to see each name engraved on the black marble marker. I smirked at what these were to me. Names that belonged to me...names that had very distinct descriptions, separated by insignias that I recall not seeing elsewhere but here. I shook my head at the idea, I shook my head in denial that these were my remains.

Note that when I say remains, I mean the ones that have been buried in the deepest of consciousness, bound to be forgotten as if they have died. I am breathing and still walking amongst civilization.

Why is this place here? Why am I here? Those questions, I indeed found no answer to them except for one.....

"Do you remember what you have done here?"

I jumped at the sound of that voice. I looked around and searched for the source...and found nothing.

"What do you mean?" I asked back.

"Do you know why you built this place?"

I sneered at the idea of answering that. I know I have no answer, I'm convinced that I don't.

"Shall we replay them for you? Every scene that took place here?"

For some reason, I gave out an answer that made me scratch my head.

"How about lay out a gallery of paintings and I'll guess them myself."

Great, now the voice laughed with amusement. The next thing I knew, frames hovered above the grave markers, the canvas revealing these various depictions of every scene captured with detail. I hated the fact that I suggested this part to happen.

Each painting had a certain scenario laid out. From left to right, each had borne a timeline on every depiction. A painting of a man in robes, surrounded by a great library while holding a book, was the first that I saw. He bore a sparkle of fascination on every book laid out on those shelves.

The painting next to it had a different picture. It was that of a priest, seated inside a confessional booth. This one bore darker robes compared to the other, but his expression was that of a listener intent on mincing every detail while keeping the darkest secrets within the crypt of his heart.

After that, there was another painting. It was that of a boy, clasping a lute while singing songs under the moonlit night. It was a picture filled with bliss that I can't help but wonder how his voice would sound like if he were to sing.

There were others. On the very right, I saw this painting filled with chains and bound to it was this blindfolded figure. Stifled and restrained, I felt a pang in my chest after seeing how much this one had suffered in silence.

The one next to it was a masked knave, thanks to the clothes he wore. A card on one hand and a knife on the other. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of scheme was being made inside his head. But the only thing that left me questioning was the smile on his face....a twisted smile.

This one bore a face of wrath and anger. Bloodied hands and clothes torn asunder, revealing wounds that were crimson with blood. In hand was a sword, rusted and stained due to a number of encounters placed. I never bothered asking what caused it to be like this.

Lastly, I saw an empty frame. On it was a chair in the center of an empty gallery. The only thing I could make out in that place was the top hat and a cane. I wondered where that came from.

"That one on the center is the only one you haven't given a proper burial."

I turned back and saw this figure that I recognized. He looked similar to me, however, he was dressed in a black suit. I realized what these things were and shook my head at how slow I was in figuring it out.

"This was my graveyard. I buried so much of my other selves here....I never thought I'd be here, again."

He chuckled at first before walking past me. By the time he was already behind me, he started laughing. I faced the painting and saw him staring at it intently, as if he was waiting for me to say something.

"Why did you leave me as is while the rest slept in their graves?" I heard him ask me this.

"I cannot find any way to end your story just yet. I still have yet to see how this would turn out." I answered him. Placing my hands inside the pockets of my jacket, I smiled.

"I still need my Magister. I still need the Count to see if this will be fitting for his tale. After all, I have a few more years to straighten out your tale. As for the others, I have concluded them as fitting as they should."

Feeling as if there's nothing else to do, I turned my back on the dandy gentleman and left the graveyard. I heard him speak loudly as I neared the gate.

"You will come back here.....soon."

((This post was done a year ago on Facebook. I just thought of posting it here to show it. Link:  http://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=10150220645665431))