okay, here it is, the mystery fic. which is kinda cool, 'cause it could be in third person, second, or tfirst! ain't that cool? no? oh well. enjoy, and review! just cause!
There are hundreds of them – no, thousands. Thousands of people, all dressed in black. They laugh, it sounds clear and melodic, flowing like the waterfall by the tree. They dance and spin, so fast it's dizzying, golden clasps winking in the flickering light of the torches lining the walls. Beauty, everywhere. And the masks! Black, silver, purple, blue, gold…every colour under the sun! Each mask unique and dazzling…yet at the same time strangely expressionless and plain. No feathers or beads of coloured glass adorn the wood, no smile dances upon the delicately carved lips. Nothing.
Suddenly the lights go out, the entire hall plunges into darkness. Yet even so, the eyes glow behind the masks, now cruel and golden. The moon is hidden behind the smoke-like clouds, but they slink away, letting the silver orb shine once more, shedding silver light on the macabre dance below.
The people no longer seem friendly. Everything is leeched of its colour, even the brightly coloured masks. Now, they are all identical. Their dark clothes blend with the shadows, till all that is visible is a sea of expressionless bone-white faces, yellow eyes glowing behind the masks, tiny pinpricks in the gaping eye sockets. They laugh once more, but their voices no longer sound beautiful. Instead they are harsh, scraping, filled with malice.
One by one, they remove their masks, and as they do so, their eyes flare to life, huge, glowing, as if the masks had been holding them back, trapping the true darkness beneath. Their faces, their hands, their entire bodies, all black. All that remains visible is thousands of evil, strangely lifeless yellow eyes. And how they burn. Burning with hate, their blackened souls writhing in envy for those with light. For they both hate it, and love it. They yearn its warmth, fear its heat, need it to survive. For without light, there are no shadows, yet with light, the shadows are weak. They begin to dance, spinning, faster and faster the yellow lights flickering with every turn. And all the while, their laughter echoes, roaring, deafening, merging with terrified screams…
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"Riku? Riku! Wake up!"
"M…mom?"
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah…I think…"
"You had another nightmare again, didn't you. What am I going to do with you, hey?"
"I'm sorry…"
"Hush. Don't be. It's not your fault. Now, get some rest."
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There she is. Mother, smiling, gentle and kind in the merciless world of reality. A light in the realms of darkness. The moon that shines at night. But behind her, pinned up to the wall, an old toy. It's like it's sneering, taunting, expressionless wooden lips somehow curled into a mocking smile. A harmless toy. And yet, even as it disappears as the darkness takes over once more, it's there, watching, laughing.
A white mask with empty eyes.