The Muse’s Monster

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Once upon a time...

A girl met a boy. This girl, for centuries, had worn a mask to protect herself from persecution by the community, for the community did not take kindly to the girl. At first, the mask was simply that—a way for her to assimilate.

Though the mask helped her blend into society, sometimes, something underneath would scratch at the inside of the mask, wishing to be set free from the confinement the mask had created. Over time, however, she ignored the creature underneath, and the mask became a part of her being.

When she met the boy, it was by chance. Their paths may have never crossed if not by complete accident. For it was on this day—and by the nature of their meeting—that her mask began to peel away. But that is a story for another time.

The two met in secret, often losing track of time as they walked down dark alleys and through the twisted forests where no one else dared to venture. The girl smiled, and her eyes softened in the boy’s presence, and at the edges of her face, the carefully curated mask she had worn for so long began to crack and flay from her bones. The boy said nothing of it and only let it be, assuming only that it was part of the girl he was falling so deeply in love with.

One night as the two strolled through a meadow full of luscious green grass and bursting wildflowers, the girl paused. Her eyes scanned the meadow curiously. What she thought had been fireflies dancing about the flowers, she came to notice were actually faeries flitting around. 

She knelt down and put her hand out to them, and they whirled around her fingers and up into her hair. She let out a soft, bewildered laugh as they brushed against the paring edges of her mask. 

“I know this place,” she said, but she didn’t know how. She blinked, puzzled. 

The flaps of broken skin from her mask tickled the lashes around her eyes and sent her heart into a start. She stood swiftly. She turned to the boy, but he said nothing. Only smiled at her gently, his eyes looking into her deeply. In the magic of the field, and the security of the boy, she felt a safety surround her. 

With ragged breath, she began to pull at the corners of the mask. The boy watched her curiously. She flinched and recoiled at the tug. It peeled from her skull, sending blood dripping down her neck and chest. 

The mask had become her. All of her. Shock from the realization filler her, but she could not stop pulling the mask from her face.

Not only her face, but as she removed the last bits from her chin, the skin kept flaying off her, pulling veins and connective tissue down her neck and over her shoulders. 

The agony of it was excruciating, and she had to pause when she started to pull it from her stomach. She looked down at her decaying body then. Tears mixed with blood, flowing down her disfigured form, exposing the monster she had tried so hard to hide. 

She fell to her knees, covering her mangled face with her skeletal fingers and wept. The boy knelt down with her and placed his hands on hers before he pulled her into a tight embrace. Her tears slowed then, but she finally felt it. The warmth of his embrace mingled with her true form.

She then unraveled herself the rest of the way, peeling and flinching and crying as the mask was pulled from her body. As the mask was removed, a new scene unfolded around them. The wild growth of the meadow disappeared, and the scent of excavated earth wafted in the air, and suddenly, she remembered. She knew where they were. 

The landscape had become a cemetery. But not any ordinary cemetery. She looked down and, in her hand, she held a shovel - worn and chipped and cracked. It fit perfectly in her hand, as though she had worked with it for millennia. And perhaps she had. 

She looked to the boy, covered in her blood and gore, and he did not flinch at her zombie-like appearance. He stood firm next to her. She wanted so badly to be whole again. 

She looked down at the mangled pile of flesh beside her. Disgust filled what was left of her. She screamed and stabbed the tip of her shovel into what remained of the mask, slicing it into pieces before hitting something solid beneath. She paused, looking to the boy. He simply nodded to her. Giving their curiosity permission.

The girl dropped to her knees, tossing the butchered bloody tissue and the shovel to the side before burying her fingers into the earth. From the dirt she pulled a bone. She studied it for a long moment, not truly knowing where it might go, feeling so disconnected from it in that moment, though knowing somehow that it was hers. \

Slowly, the boys hand appeared in front of her, beckoning for the bone. In the girl’s frustration, she pulled it back, cradling it in her hands like a precious gem. The boy did not press but neither did he take his hand away. 

Hesitantly, the girl placed the bone in the boy’s outstretched hand. He took a step behind the girl and placed the bone into her spinal column. She sucked in a sharp breath when it clicked into place. Miraculously, the girl felt a bit more stable, and a connection to something deep within her formed.

She looked around at all the shallow graves that surrounded them before looking back up into the boys’ eyes. Acceptance boiled from them. Though she was in pieces, he looked at her as though she were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

She knew what she needed to do. But the only way she was going to survive it was with help. His help.

“Will you...” she began, motioning toward the graves.

“Whatever you need.” He replied softly.

The girl loosed a shaky breath before they began. It took them months, but together they slowly pieced her back together. She became a patchwork of parts of herself. What some might call a monster, he called his muse. His beautiful inspiration. And through his loving hands, she became whole again.