Here, wear this Mask.

Story written by nickrip on Wednesday 20, January 2010

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Description
who am I?

Overall Rating: 84%

This writing has been rated by 1 members, resulting in a rating of 84% overall. Below is a breakdown of these results:

Concept/Plot:85%
Imagery:80%
Spelling & Grammar:85%
Flow/Rhythm:85%
Vocabulary:85%
Person-persona-character-role-mask "A constant stream of revelation enlightens only the most ignorant. When one ceases to be enlightened then they have either lost all emotion or have become the ultimate power of knowledge." -an ancient Asian proverb No man has ever become omnipotent; though I can vouch that the loss of feelings delivers one from any new excitement. Of course adrenaline and fear occasionally break through but only in the most severe dilemmas. Otherwise, I am rid of amazement and awe as a child purges himself from the bottle. The solemn one might detect from me is that merely of peace. I am only mellow and the customer service department is closed;forever. Unfortunately I am extremely open minded, except about hatred. I can not stop hating the man who put me here. Another time in another place. "Here; wear this mask." My partner slid the face on the floor in the dark. It makes a dull scraping noise on the cement which seems thunderous compared to the prior silence. We are in a basement. It is pitch black as I feel for the mask that will save my identity, or tragically ruin it. The tragedy would not be in my arrest but in my death. A death I did not believe was justifiable or for that matter even necessary. This was not who I was. I could not be this person. I felt the brim of the mask and lifted it to my face. I quickly tie the small string behind my head. No time to ponder what I looked like because I was still contemplating whether or not I was going to go through with this. I could turn back now and lose myself in Africa. I would first forget my sins and find absolution later. I may even find some relatives that live there. They would eventually accept me. No, I could never accept myself. I am not an honorable man but I will never live such a lie. I would sooner die. My decision is absolute and I will die a conceited self justifying radical rather than live another day as an emotionless nobody. Then what is the difference? No one has ever considered my reasoning to be any sign of intelligence. I don't care. Waiting in the dark for such an event is gripping. Every possible flaw in our plan rattles against my brain and worry finds a way to leak over into my present attitude. "Are you ready?" my partner asks. "For God's sake;this better work" I reply. "For God's sake;you are about to become so wildly rich that you will forget about your entire past. Trust me. Get Ready Now;Ok;and;Go!" I run up the stairs by myself and see the daylight pierce in. The heat immediately overwhelms me but I won't need to worry about that for much longer. I am met with shrieks as I am spotted by my neighbors in the alley. I continue to run and I see my target. I hate who I am. Who put me here? I knew the answer but refused to take responsibility. It must have been my society. The bus has come to a complete stop and the driver has still not seen me. A few passengers react with only wide eyes and a gasp. They know where they are going. I am not sure of my final destination. I reach the bus but I can not kill myself. So my partner does for me, detonation.
   

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