Thirty Five

101

   The night had been sleepless for Corey. For hours he simply stared at the mask he had found in the subway. It oozed it's vile liquid onto the carpet of his apartment - securing the fact that he would never get his security deposit back. It cried and laughed in his brain and his ears. It begged with him to finally put it on.

   It wasn't until the first songbirds of dawn began their cacophony of twits and whistles that the frozen man moved. Almost as a robot he walked to his bathroom and stood in front of his mirror. His eyes stared into the empty sockets of the mask, and for a moment there were eyes staring back at him. This vision pushed Corey passed the edge- he lifted the mask to his face.

   Immediately the smell of his metallic vomit from the night prior filled every sense he had and some he never new a human could possess. His skin felt as if it had lit on fire, and his mouth instantly became parched of all liquid. A rough coughing scream found it's way up his throat and passed the lips of the mask. The liquid ooze began filling his nose, mouth, and eyes. It dripped into his esophagus, pouring into his stomach. It filled his lungs as easily as air.

   The fusion could have taken seconds or hours. The trembling man would never know. He lay on the linoleum of his bathroom, each of his muscles firing as whomever or whatever inhabits the mask takes over each and every cell of his body. The sounds it had been making have vanished, replaced with his own thoughts in a foreign voice.

   "Time starts now." The voice whispers. There is a palpable sadness to it's words. It is not threatening nor angry. It sounds almost desperate.

   Corey finds the strength to stand, clutching the lip of the sink to steady himself. Despite the lack of straps or other ways to secure it the mask stays atop his face. His hand gently tugs at the jaw of the porcelain. The feeling of his own skin being stretched makes his recoil.

   "My vessel of worship." The voice speaks again, this time from Corey's mouth.

   The host can see his hands touch the mask that is now his face from the reflection in the mirror. He watches as it begins to contort and elongate and it's eyes become slits, it's liquid that once poured from each hole turning red and leaving marks and stains before evaporating completely. His fingers move without his permission, tracing the symbol. As he does so images flash in his minds eye of a humanoid figure. It is feminine, though not like the girls Corey once stared at on his computer. This form seems to be disintegrating - no, flowing. It looks at him, despite being within his mind. It frowns.

   "This is an offering." The voice speaks to the form made of dust standing in the abyss of Corey's mind. This sentiment doesn't seem to help with it's demeanor at all, instead causing it's flowing dust to twirl in anger. There is a pulsing glow that seems to come from each particle of the figure. Corsey's transformed body falls to it's knees under the power of the soul of the mask. He can feel the sorrow and heartbreak it feels fill him. Their memories twist together and Corey watches as the history of the mask plays for his soul. He can feel the crushing love, fear, and devotion. He can also feel fingers on his skin and in his hair. His chest feels the tickle of hair, and then the sting of cuts. A sudden crashing headache flows through his skull, and then the taste of blood and throbbing of a broken nose.

   He's seen things like this before. He watched his own mother staunch bleeding from her nose from an impact with a wall.

   Corey wishes he could look away, but the images and memories and feelings don't stop. The soul of the mask is screaming. Animalistic and frightened. The figure in the darkness snarls, seemingly watching each moment with the two souls.

   "Let me be your harbor." The voice whimpers through gagging on tears and blood. The figure simply turns it's back, and then Corey is once again in his bathroom. He is still on his knees now just staring at the cabinet under his sink.

   "You love her." Corey says. He knows the mask can hear him.
   "She is my Goddess." It replies, it's voice still hoarse.