Aragon Masks. Inga Soborova

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      Aragon:

      I have a child’s mask. It’s beautiful. The head teacher gave it to me for my birthday. He bought a new one. We went with him to the Maskmaker’s shop. He has many beautiful masks. They whisper to each other. But the teacher doesn’t hear. I recognized my mask at once. And it recognized me, too. I hear someone calling me. It’s my mask.

      In one mirror, the mask looks like mine. And in the other, it looks like someone else’s.

      In this, the other mirror, I’m not allowed to look at. Old nurse saw herself in it without a mask. They say it was an accident. That’s all she’s talked about ever since. Even in her dreams.

      When the teacher and everyone who lives in the orphanage lose sight of me, I go to the mirror. I looked at it for a long time. Even once, it seemed to me that someone was standing behind me. When I turned around, no one was there.

      I scratched my face under my mask. Scratched and moved my mask a bit. My skin is white under the mask. Beautiful. Soft. They say my cheeks are there.

      I put a piece of sugar in my mouth under the mask today. Not in the mouth hole. The mask let me do it. But I can’t tell the teacher. He’ll scold me. But, Head Teacher, if he finds out, he will bind the mask so tightly for the day so you can’t eat, drink, or even breathe.

      I saw my mouth in the mirror, my tongue in it. Turns out to be a big one. Sometimes, when someone shows his tongue in a mask, through a hole, only a little piece can be seen.

      And I could see teeth. Like white beads. I got a lot of them.

      I’ve been told I breathe through my nose. I want to see. What’s it like?

      The aged nurse, in that mirror, behind my back, told everything about what she saw under the mask. I am used to seeing this nurse in the mirror all the time. She’s wearing the kind of mask no one wears nowadays.

      I saw my nose. It is very ugly. It’s not even pretty. I’m afraid to lift the mask any further.

      I saw one of my eyes. It’s beautiful. Like a goat’s, only smaller. The white skin covers the eye, and it’s as if it doesn’t exist. The hairs on this skin are small.

      If I lift the mask, I only lift it from the edge. Either my mouth, or my nose, or my eye. You can’t see them all together.

      Today I and all the children in our orphanage went to worship the Firsts. The Stone Firsts. They are wearing masks of stone. There are two of them. Their masks are special – square.

      No one is allowed to wear square masks. Today at school we were taught, «As soon as you think of a square mask for yourself, pray at once, Glory to the First Ones, Glory forever and ever! And immediately those thoughts will go away.»

      Today is a big celebration. All of our city’s young men who have come of age will take off their «child» masks and put on their «adult» masks. The city council gives masks to those who live in the orphanage. We don’t have a chest of masks that are passed down from our ancestors. Maybe that’s a good thing. The masks are new. Smells like fresh wood. They’re all the same. The law says, «Everyone can decorate his own mask. But modestly, in the same color.» This is to distinguish a thief from a good citizen.

      I am an adult now. When I build my own house, I will no longer live in a shelter. I won’t have long to look in the forbidden mirror.

      I go to the mirror every day. Yesterday I got scared. I looked at myself in the mirror and I didn’t have my mask on. Two eyes, like a yard dog’s, looking at me, my face white, and two cheeks at once. And this scary nose. And my mouth is open. I ran away.

      It reminded me a lot of what I had seen in parts under the children’s mask.