I am out in the gardens, enjoying the fresh air, sunshine, and the beautiful plants surrounding me. Beauty's irony does not escape me. For a beautiful thing does not often live forever. Eventually it breaks, the beauty fade and dulls, or the thing itself dies. In death, we are all made equals. I forget who said or wrote that, bur it does fit, does it not? Death is truly the great equalizer. God is not, but Death is.
I have taken off the mask, which I usually wear when I go out, so that I can fully catch the sun's warm, healthful rays. It does not matter—no matter how long I am out in the sun, exposed to her rays, I do not tan nor burn. Odd, wouldn't you say? Especially with my pale skin… Ah, but I should not question this seemingly mysterious fact.
I hear whispers. Where? I listen closer. There! Behind those bushes! Using all my "power of quietness", I sneak over behind the said bushes and then behind the intruders.
I clear my throat. That seems to get their attention. They are all just a couple of young neighborhood hooligans. Two boys, no older than fifteen, and a girl, perhaps a year younger than the boys. They turn around and their eyes go wide.
"It's a zombie!" Whispers the shorter of the two boys. "Wait 'till we tell Marc and Luc! They'll never believe us!"
The taller boy tells him to quiet.
"You're right," I say. "They never will believe you. Because I am no zombie. A living corpse, maybe, but not a zombie. Now what were you doing hiding behind the bushes in my gardens?"
"Your gardens, sir," the little girl asks. "I'm sorry. I thought no one lived here anymore except perhaps a ghost or two."
"Nah, I am no ghost. It's okay for you, as you did not know. As for you two boys, why were you spying on me?" I hiss in their ears.
"We were on a dare, sir," the smaller of the two answers.
"Shut up, Pierre," warns the taller one. "Actually, we were told this place was inhabited by a zombie or a corpse, and Pierre and me wanted to see if it was true or not."
"Well, young sirs, I am afraid that whoever told you that was dead wrong," I say. I have to stop those rumors… I think to myself. "Now where do you live?"
They tell my driver and me in order to bring the tow boys home, while I will bring the girl home myself. I quickly write two letters for the boys' parents and hand them to the driver. I ask the girl if she would like a ride on a horse back home. She is delighted, I tell her to wait a minute. I go and put one of my flesh-colored masks on.
"Who are you?" she asks when I return.
"Don't be silly," I tease as I take it off to show her it is just me in a mask.
"Why do you wear a mask, sir?"
"Because not everyone is as tolerant of those who are different (like me) as you are, little one," I admit.
"You can call me Annabelle, sir."
"Well then. Come on, Annabelle. Let's get you home."