The clock strikes eight. The weather is acting strange today. Something feels off while grey clouds shift above. Ladies put on elegant gowns and gentlemen put on extravagant suits. All with unknown identities to every other guest due to a mask hiding their faces. Every card is on the table. You could be dancing with the prince or the house maid. Anything can happen tonight at the formal, annual masquerade ball. Everyone in town dresses formally, places their mask on, and takes a carriage drawn by white horses. Women and men pile in the castle and began to dance. Different partners every few minutes. The clock strikes eight. Chatter is rising as people get comfortable. Every mask is hand-crafted. Wine drank and masks kiss. The clock strikes nine. Dancing is happening and people are enjoying themselves. Carriages galloped back, away from the castle. The clock strikes ten. A light rain is heard outside. Raindrops hit the beautiful glass windows. The sky is growing dark. Trees are blowing in every direction. Screams are heard nearby but no one checks it out. A few guests are no longer dancing or in the room. The front door was shut. They never left. The clock strikes eleven. More wine is shared. Two types in fact. Half the crowd to one and one half to the other. The storm is growing. The clock strikes twelve. Right on the bell, half the crowd dropped dead. The others are trapped to dance over their bodies. The storm is raging. Trees block the roads making it impossible for the carriages to come. Someone standing is killer. The clock strikes one. Many of the people are gone. Not out the front. It’s too dangerous to leave in this weather. A hundred people left. The clock strikes two. More people gone. A couple more dropped. Other continued to dance. Not a single worry. The clock strikes three. Only a handful of people are left and still no worry. The clock strikes four. Mostly everyone drops and the storm is the strongest. The clock strikes five. Everyone but a masked girl and the masked killer are dead. The storm ends and brings a little rainbow in the clouds. He makes her dance with him. Not wanting to be killed, she does. The clock strikes six. He drags her away from the castle and to a hideaway. Identities are revealed. The clock strikes seven. News has spread and anger is rising.

He keeps her captive but does she want to stay or leave? Both are safe as neither had an identity. He forces her to be with him as the threat of death over her head. Escape is impossible since chains are used. Masquerade parties make it easy to take out your enemies.

"Why?" you ask, am I

separated from the rest.

--you wear such a pretty mask--

I shrug.

you tell

we dance

I fell

my heart

you play

they laugh

you stay

I stray.

you tug

and pull

and grasp

and yell

and move

and rush

never, never silent or still

I blush.

you purr

and rasp

and sigh

and gasp

and tantalize

and tempt

and try

and manipulate

your pretty gain

your petty game

I recoil.

I will not be your puppet,

will not let you hold my strings

I will not let you hide my heart

in pettiness and mediocrity

I will not wear your pretty mask,

or let you hold me close

I do not want your promises,

I do not want your lies

I do not want your emptiness

I will not wear your guise.

And so I end your masquerade,

your waltzing through my life,

your wretched, scheming promenade,

your despair-filled din and strife

--you the Piper with your fife!

I know now that separate from the rest

is sometimes for the best.

I turn aside.

Out of darkness,

into Light.

The child lies behind the mask

holding onto a silver flask,

She fears revealing light

as she hides in the warm night,

The stars cry golden tears

they want to take her from her fears,

Midnight approaches quick

the mask shatters on the brick,

Fractured glass glides

nowhere for the child to hide,

Her problems on display for all

she had no place in this ball.