The Last Masquerade
by Michaela Riege
As I hold this mask, I can feel the essence of the person who once wore it before I caused their demise. I can feel the soothing mortal touch, the mortal bliss incarnate in flesh before the breaking of the vein. But as I stare into the colored eyes, the painted lips and brows, I can still remember the face of the beautiful mortal that once wore it perfectly from all others I had killed the night she had died too. But now since the masquerade is over, I can still see the essence of the mortality she once bore incarcerated in the form of her desired ghost form over my shoulder in the darkness we both grew to love. Oh how immortality loves the essence of life and mortal color....