I’ve been here before. I’ve felt the burlap colored, bubble-textured walls on my fingertips, always cool except in the places my body heats after leaning on from time to time. I come here from time to time. The mattress here is old and hurts my back each time. I now sit upon it in an upright position, with my feet flat on the ground. A parakeet perched in its cage.

          “What time is it?” I call out. I can’t tell if I'm being ignored or not loud enough. So, I repeat myself louder. Receiving no answer confirms the first assumption. Typical. I lean back against the wall and sigh, until---

          “Why did you do that!” Maurice yells as he runs over annoyed. He unlocks the door and threatens me, the same way he does every time. It doesn’t faze me anymore. Just as much as my “foul language and profanity bits” do not faze him anymore. I can tell he’s not in the mood to play games today so I answer simply, “I had a bad taste in my mouth so I spit it out.”

          He asks who will clean up the mess on the floor. It isn’t a big mess; Maurice just has nothing else to complain about. So, I say, “Well, I don’t know. The other tech will be here in 5 minutes to switch shifts. Make him do it.”

          “He clocks in at 4 and it’s only 2:45. That’s more than an hour of your vomit on the floor. It’s gonna stink up the whole place. Not to mention the health violations. Oh god, the paperwork”. Alas, I have shifted the strings of my puppet to move his mouth and tell me the time.

          “Well Maurice, seeing as there is no other alternative, I guess I just have to eat it then. Shouldn’t I?” I taunt. He isn’t buying it, “Cut the crap Lucy.” He rolls his eyes, shoves a mask over my face, calls maintenance, and sends me back to the unit, accompanied by a new hire named Robert, or so his name tag says.

          “You don’t have to hold me like that. It hurts.” I insist he let me walk alongside him. Robert is sympathetic yet a very obedient employee, “You’re an elopement risk.” he says. I reply angrily, “Holding me like this is a liability risk!” I groan with significant emphasis. He lets me go. This Robert character proves to be an impressionable little twit. We walk in silence the whole way to the unit. Robert scans his I.D. tag and the doors open. It amazes me that idiots like Robert and puppets like Maurice are given authority. Obedience is a mask that does not fit my face.

          Us patients, we go around the unit in prescribed masks. Some with square-ish jaws, large chins, and no mouth. Others cover the full face and are often either heavily gilded or stark white. Some wear heavily decorated, colorful half-masks that only cover the wearer’s eyes, cheeks, and sometimes nose. There are also simple styles that cover the entire face as well, but depict basic facial features such as the lips and nose. Last but not least, my favorite of them all, the joker-like mask. With its elaborate colors, short nose, arched brows, usually accessorized with large headpieces and/or collars and bells. Together, we all partake in extravagant pageants and glamorous processions, mingling amongst each other in complete anonymity, grazing the finest halls of the unit with the pomp of our glorious dances.

          All the while, the plague doctors hide behind their Medico della Peste masks; to spare themselves the "evil" smells of the plague and prevent them from becoming infected with our diseases. The tech’s are required to wear The Zanni type masks. They happily oblige and don’t mind the long nose, or the bulging eyebrows and low forehead. When they look in the mirror, they only see gold.

          I join the villagers and Robert goes off with the other Zanni’s.

          As I walk down the hall to my room, I sarcastically chime, “Parting is such sweet sorrow. That I should say good night, til be it morrow.”

          Demetri follows me in and continues the lines. “Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!” His speech sounds muffled behind his mask. It has distinct nose and mouth features and an elaborate gold design around the eyes, temples, forehead and bridge of the nose. The rest is white and covers his whole face, but the blue of his eyes penetrates through the eye holes.

          I stand before the mirror and stare into my new mask. It is a half-mask, one side is gold and the other turquoise, gold emblems are scattered all over, and golden lace outlines the edges. I tear it from my face and toss it out the nearest window. Concerned and alarmed, Demetri demands to know my motives. 

          I watch the wind carry the mask safely to the ground. It fell slower than I had imagined it would. With less swaying and not at all like a paper airplane. Actually, it fell in no particular way at all.

          I whisper, “It’s gone.”

          Demetri grabs my arms and shakes me. He screams for a Zanni. His eyes are wild with fear. He says, “Lucy, you’ve gone mad!” The look in his eyes is supremely frightful.

          I grab his head and tear off his mask.

          He fell to the floor and screamed in agony. In all the years I’ve known him, I had never seen his face. Never seen the olive skin, the bushy eyebrows, or the dark brown almond shaped eyes, and the down turned mouth. It hung open now, loudly spewing psychosomatic aches. Sweat beaded his forehead and upper lip. He got the shakes. I slapped him across the face and said, “You're beautiful. We are not sick. It's all lies.” The Zanni’s pulled me off of him and The Medico’s sedated me. I awoke perched in my cage again.

Masq, Ahmed Aldoori                              

Clarissa Leigh is a poetry and fiction writer from Texas. She is currently editing her first completed novel and putting together a book of poetry. You can find her on Instagram @blissfulleighdisoriented.