Carefully chosen to accentuate my best features, my mask and I ventured into the ballroom. Partners reeled, slipping in and out of view. Some lingered for a moment, a soft caress before the music spun us away. Each one chasing a mask more tempting than the one before.
One mask began to circle back again and again. More alluring that I had dared to dream, full of promise and with eyes only for me. Your mask was a study in perfection. Thrilled, I began to fear the hour of the unmasking. Would you be repulsed by the hidden me? The me who was riddled with doubt and insecurity. The me who never quite measured up to expectations.
We danced in anticipation. You, an expert of every move, calculated and sure. I gallantly attempting to hid my uncertainty, my tentative nature. As the time drew near I became nervous, unsure, perhaps my mask had promised too much. How did I presume to be worthy of one such as you?
The clock chimed, the truth had arrived. Everything revealed. We stood naked, face to face and horror thundered through me. I had failed to consider that your mask would hide a monster.
Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer