1 The Masked Man

A sizzling yolk hangs brightly above the blue sky. Discordant sounds mix in with the rough howling wind as the desolate desert's only village bustles with activity. White-skinned primates wear their long thick clothes appropriate for the scorching climate. Full of energetic smiles, these beings, who call themselves "humans", cross the busy intersections with their primitive, weak bodies.

This day is when the villagers of this small, brick-walled place celebrate its founding anniversary. On one of the potholed streets, "clowns", the things wearing fancy clothes with a rounded red nose and nearly funny yet almost scary make-up, bring out their best to entertain everyone. Their audiences are mostly the happy young primates who clap their hands, sitting on the shoulders of their sires. 

Underdeveloped modes of transportation with their rustic parts, honk their horns as they are locked in a standstill. Ear-piercing sounds from merchants who sell all kinds of good-for-nothing celebratory items and trinkets, with their dire-styled megaphones, resonate; making some of the passersby cover their ears. Joining them, an anonymous man with messy black hair, wearing a grotesque mask, tours this festive village like a psychopath. He gains all the attention everywhere he goes due to his tattered clothes and his burned - beef - steak skin.

Without the reminders from the Gods, and from all the bad luck that had been accumulated in this dead planet for a century, he falls into an open sinkhole. Humans with their ugly, callous and dire features laugh at him with all their might. Not a single one of them bothers to help him out of the sinkhole. The pungent smell of a dead animal covers the man's body, causing everyone to pinch their nose. Finally, he hoists himself out of the sinkhole looking ugly while everyone stares at him scornfully.

The masked man continues to make smooth steps towards the large gate of the village not caring for the laughter and insults thrown at him. He has lived in this village even before it surged with humans. Walking for half a mile, he witnesses five children playing under the shade of a tree with their new ball.

It is unusual for these children to choose to play and not to celebrate their village's founding anniversary with their parents. Walking like a panther stalking its prey, he sits under the shade of the tree as his thoughts penetrate the emptiness. This man has no wife nor child. He lives independently with his mysterious background. Children fear him, as their parents depict him as a monster or even a villain in their bedtime stories. The mask he is wearing lets the villagers make up stories about his face. They say that he has a long deep cut on it when he fought a war that happened a decade ago. Thus, it instigates more fear into the children's naive minds. Every time he strolls the streets, he sees children shaking, hiding behind their parents, or even crying from the fear they have of him. He can be considered as a prominent elder of this village as he had cured most of its sick villagers. In fact, he gives his service free of charge. He is angry inside that these villagers repaid his kindness with this kind of slander and contempt.

Thuck! 

The familiar sound of a ball bouncing off his lap echoes all the way to his mind. The reason for his thoughts to go back at present. The masked man throws a lightning gaze upon it. His lips twitch when he remembers something lovely about the ball, something he regrets remembering.

"Obi! G-get my ball from, M-Mr. Mask!" exclaims the boy shaking, wearing new fancy clothes.

"Why me? Can't you do it, Kaffir?" The other boy looks at the ground while on the verge of tears.

"Hello, Mister." A chubby girl approaches him with a brimming smile on her face and adds, "Sorry for disturbing you, but can I have that ball, please?" 

Strangely, the pungent smell of a dead animal is erased from his body. He now smells like blooming flowers. His scent makes the children wonder where it comes from. Without any reaction from his deep ancient eyes, he gives back their ball using his hideous right hand and turns to be with the emptiness again.

"Lily, you're awesome!"

"Yeah, my mother said he is monster and he eats children, like me."

"You are an idol for me this day, Lily," her playmates exclaim when the ball is brought back by Lily, who is now painted with confidence on her red, round cheeks.

"My mom said that Mr. Mask is not bad. He helped everyone in the village when we got sick. Don't you remember what he did for you, Zayn? Mr. Mask gave your parents medicine to cure your colds," says Lily. 

The other children nod their heads to what Lily tells them. They look at the masked man while shaking and eventually go to play with the ball again. The masked man smiles at what he heard. He thought the children in the village were scared of him; he is happy to know that there's a single one who is not. Her parents raised her differently from the others. And he admires what they had done for their daughter.

Thuck!

The ball once again leaps towards him.

"Clumsy Obi! Go get it!" Kaffir, the owner of the ball points his finger. The playmate he is looking at trembles in fear unsure of what he should do.

"Lily, can you please get it?" Obi looks at Lily teary-eyed. His parents truly made the masked man his worst nightmare.

"Obi, you are the one who dropped the ball! Therefore, you get it!" Lily replies to him with her irritation showing through her knit brows.

Obi doesn't know if he should get the ball from the man he is so afraid of. Sweating, he makes a step at a time towards the masked man.

"He-hello Mr. Mask, can I h-have the b-ball, b-back?" Obi asks gulping the fears he has from his words.

The masked man smiles behind his mask. He remembers himself from a long time ago; a very, very long time ago. He picks up the ball and bounces it back towards the boy. "Happy birthday, my love," he murmurs into the air drifting up above the swaying green leaves of the tree. How he wishes for it to travel far, far away from here.

He leaves the five children playing and journeys back to his original path. The door creaks when he enters his empty house. There is a cabinet at three o'clock, a chair at four and a very ancient bed at six. It is almost empty, as there is no food nor any blankets, towels or clothing. "This is too far from the last time," he whispers wishing it could drift to that someone's ear.

There's nothing he wishes upon the star when he lays down on his bed. That familiar sound of creaking and the feeling of emptiness seeps into his soul. He understands he's fortunate to be so healthy, and he knows that his current situation is better compared to that far away chaotic place. He lets out a breath so deep that the bottomless pit is far from enough. The sound of his heart can't overshadow his nightmares, the scar can't be erased, and memories are nothing but a thing of the past. He believes in that, in himself, in someone; he's just hoping to convince himself.

Regardless of whether he opens or closes his eyes, he only sees the same scenes: tragedy, romance, sometimes death, life, hope, wishes, happiness, sadness, anger, but most importantly darkness and light. How he wants to be blind or deaf. More-so, he just doesn't want to see or hear anything. When he sees children fear him, he abhors himself. All his life, there's nothing he wants, except to erase everything, to forget. In the first place, does he have what it takes? That question is worth a million life-cycles.

"I've been on this dead planet, witnessing the fall and rise of their Empires! I saw how they journeyed in the ocean, the barrens, the tundra, and space! Father, I've seen too much, and they are exactly like us!" Those words penetrate time and loneliness. They are heavy, hard and rough.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Voices of despair come through the door. "Mr. Mask! My son, Obi, and the others! They've been kidnapped by the Taliban! P-please h-help us!" 

"M-Mr. Mask! Please save my daughter, Lily!"

"Please, Mr. Mask! Don't let our twins die in the hands of those devils!"

"Pl-please, help us!" Their parents cry on the other side of the door. One of the traits of these, humans, is that they remember you when they need you. He noted that into his mind.

This is something that makes him the hero who develops into a monster. The sword that is hidden under his bed shows its use once again. This village gives him life, the will to continue living with a reason - a purpose. He loves the village, not the people, like how he once loved his Nation which betrayed him. He must not repeat what happened before. It is a regret to be remembered forever.