The Masquerade only had two rules: You had to be invited to order to attend, and you must dress in the outfit assigned to you.
This was my first year being invited to the Masquerade. The first year I might get the answer to the question I've been a...
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"I never knew how much alike we really are. If you think about it, we are the tale of The Butterfly and the Blue Flower." I stared at Hugo, waited for him to continue his thought. His blue eyes wandered, looking at the skull fountain in the middle of the garden. He appeared to be watching the path of the water through the eye sockets and gaps in-between the rotted teeth. Hugo was in a trance of sorts, trying to figure out where to start his tale. He then decided to follow my example. Start from the beginning.
"My name is Hugo, and I am also eighteen. While I do like reading, I have quite the—how did you put it," He smirked, joking around about the use of words I used to describe my boring life. "Ah, yes, it's coming to me—I have quite the fascination with science." He looked at me, appearing to expect some reaction out of me. I didn't give him one; he continued.
"To be more specific about my profession, I am ever so interested in medical science, like our dear friend, the Blue Flower." As Hugo said this, he turned his head around and gestured to the blue flowers behind him, which appeared to glow in color when he started to tell his story. Like the were waking up from eternal sleep. Hugo turned back to toward, his face reading like he made the same conclusion about the flowers as I did. He looked down at our connected hands and continued his story.
"I study under my uncle, who ....studies the dead " He spoke with such hesitation that I thought something must be wrong with him. Then it dawned on me. Dealing with the dead in this town in looked down upon, but cutting them open and figuring out what killed them, that's horrid in the town's eyes, If anyone has any dealings with the dead, the town talks and makeup rumors saying that that person deals with the Devil and has every bad thing out to get them. Which is false of course.
Hugo was starting to shake because he thought I was like everyone else, which I'm not. While I'm not like Hugo in the regards of science, I do love a little bit of it here and there. It's interesting, seeing how life works before your eyes, seeing what's there and what isn't. It's beauty in the making that I wish more people would see. But sadly, the cloud of properness fogs their opportunity to have an open mind.
I lifted my other hand that wasn't holding Hugo's, and I held his face and made him looked up at me. "I'm not like everyone else, Hugo. If this night has taught me anything, I've learned that I'm like you." I spoke with all the love and appreciation that I could, and it appeared to work because I saw life in Hugo's beautiful eyes once again.
"Thank you. You've taught me that, too." I nodded at him to continue; I was very eager to learn what connected us, what dragged us here to the masquerade tonight.
"As I said before, I study under my uncle. In case it wasn't obvious since my uncle studies the dead and I do, too, we are disregarded by our family. They think that studying the dead is a sign of working with the Devil. I've told them several times and tried to explain to them more times than that. What I'm doing could one day save people, if not then stop whatever disease plagued them or catch the monster of a person that killed them. But, they wouldn't listen, so I left to live and continue my studies with my uncle, who is the only person who understands me, well besides you, now." I leaned toward and nodded for him to continue. By how fast he was speaking, it appears he's never told anyone this before; he was finally getting the weight of his secrets off his chest for the first time in a long time.
"For years, I performed experiments with my uncle, trying out different procedures and repeating experiments done by several scientists before us. Actually, before I received the invitation to come tonight, we were preparing for Galvani's experiment." Hugo smiled, a true smile appeared on his face when he spoke of his uncle and their experiments. He looks cute when he's happy.
"Sorry to interrupt you, but may I please ask, what is Galvani's experiment?" I already knew the answer from reading Frankenstein so many times, but he had pure and lovable joy on his face, and I didn't want it to go away.
"His experiment was galvanism, which is basically inducing electric currents into a muscle to make it contract and move. It's quite interesting if you read up on it." Hugo continued on about himself, talking about his experiments and his life leading up to the masquerade and meeting me.
Hugo didn't have a lot of friends; we related somewhat on that account. While I had friends that had nothing in common with me, he had few friends that shared lots with him. He talked about each of his friends and which areas of science they studied. It was fun watching him talk about science and his friends, from the way he talked, I could easily tell that they were good people and I instantly wanted to meet them. "Maybe, someday you will," said Hugo.
Hugo also told him about another account that we both shared in common: experience with another person. Hugo, like myself, thought romance was out of the question for him, it was something to be desired but never have for one's self. He mentioned the times when his family would bring suitors home and force them upon him. None of the suitors had anything in common with him. According to Hugo, they would dumb themselves down and push themselves against him, trying to get something out of their forced time together. He respected them and told them "no", and pushed them gently off of him before he stormed out of his family's mansion and ran to his uncle's lab to put his hands into a bloody cadaver for several hours, trying to get his mind off of the lingering touches of the girl's wandering hands.
When he finished, he looked at me, weak and vulnerable. Hugo just came clean to me, and at the same time, I think we both realized how close we are to our story, our shared story. A life different from ours.
Hugo was about to speak again, most likely to start telling the proper and true story of The Butterfly and the Blue Flower, but he suddenly stopped himself. He looked at me, pupils wide as can be and said, " Did you hear that?"
