Disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda and Majora's Mask and the Happy Mask Salesman are all trademarks of Nintendo. Any character, location or object featured in the game also belongs to Nintendo. However, all original characters and locations are trademark to sleepingPisces. This is purely a work of fiction for the purpose of entertainment. The opinions or ideas of the author do not necessarily reflect those of Nintendo.
Authors note: I'm not a fan of authors notes, so this is probably the only one you'll see, except possibly the final chapter. First of all, I want to thank anybody who takes the time to read this. Secondly, I wanted to point out that if the story feels strange or disjointed, it's because I tried to write it that way. As the story is being told by the Happy Mask Salesman, I felt it should have an elusive and somewhat eccentric feel to it. I also tried to include themes from the game Majora's Mask, such as sadness and an eerie quality. Finally, I'd like to plug my Read and Review message here. We all come to this website for the same reason and reviews, particularly those with constructive criticism, are the best tool we have to helping others become better writers. Anyway, I hope you enjoy my story.
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"You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?"
Prologue---
"Happiness is important. Happiness is what makes the sun shine, the moon glow. Without happiness, could there be a world? Would you want to live in such a world? Imagine a world where happiness was nothing more than a dream, and sorrow was all anybody knew. Such a world existed once. Shall I tell you that story? It is a sad story, and will no doubt leave you wishing you had never heard it. However, sadness is a part of life just as happiness is. Can you have one without the other? Maybe this tale will help you discern the answer."
The overlarge backpack on the man's shoulders sagged, as if it weighed more than it ought to. After all, it was only full of masks, was it not? Nonetheless, the eccentric appearance of the man was not only suggested by the backpack covered in various masks, but rather his entire manner. You would be forgiven for being apprehensive about approaching the salesman, but if you wanted a mask there would be no better man to speak to. And if you weren't in the market for a mask, well then...well, everyone would like a mask. However, the man known as the Happy Mask Salesman will also gladly share with you a tale, and all it will cost you is your undivided attention.
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Chapter One – Genesis
The sun was setting over the small village which was at the foot of a looming mountain. The inhabitants were preparing for a ritual performed only once every decade. For weeks the village had been decorated with the furs of slain animals and beasts, and the village elder fitted with ceremonial robes. In these times, spirits and other more powerful deities had more influence amongst the people than they do today. The people of the village led peaceful lives, their crops were always plentiful and monsters were kept at bay.
However, there was a price for such sanctity, a price which was to be paid on the first full moon of the year every decade. On this night, when the moon is it it brightest, the bravest and most courageous warrior of the tribe was to climb the mountain and do battle with the Beast, which had already claimed eleven souls. This year was number twelve. It was a tradition which had been going on for generations, for the villagers didn't dare disobey the orders of the Beast which could surely destroy their homes in a single night.
"Everything is prepared, Elder." The voice from behind the old man caused him to jump a little. One of the villagers nodded before exiting the elders tent. A heavy sigh escaped the lips of the elder as he squared his shoulders and prepared for what must be done.
As he stepped out of his small tent and into the open, the sun seemed to burn a bright orange. His people surrounded him, a crowd of sorrowful faces. In the middle of the gathering was a a young man, set apart from the others. Two villagers were putting the finishing touches on his ceremonial face paint. His wooden shield was tied to his back, and a humble sword stowed behind it. In the dying moments of the day, young Valorer seemed to glow with an inner fire.
"I am ready." The young warrior spoke aloud, so that all could hear him. All around him the villagers sighed and groaned pleadingly, for Valorer was much loved among the little village. "I face my destiny tonight." He spoke again, voice strong and steady as a rock. His voice only faltered slightly as, before turning away and facing the mountain he would have to climb he faced the village elder and whispered, "I won't let you down, Father." Without another word, the young warrior left his village to face his destiny.
As the village elder watched his only son climb to his certain death, a voice spoke from beside him. "Forgive me, Elder, but surely if we were to attack in group, the Beast might not-"
"No." The elder spoke softly, but with enough authority to cut the man off mid-speech. "This is the way it must be."
A heavy sigh escaped the lips of the man. "Your own son..." To which the elder only nodded and turned away. Nobody ever saw the single tear the old man shed for his son.