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"Truth, like beauty, survives and thrives in the light of day.
Lies live in the darkness, moldering and corrupting all they touch."
- A Fool's Book of Wisdom
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Chapter One -- Truth
Cliché though it may be, it was a dark and stormy night that Erik ran away from his mother's home. He knew that if he stayed the man that visited his mother would convince her to send him away to the mental institution. And, that was something he vowed he would never allow.
Although a genius, he was still only a boy of nine years and he had lived a sheltered life. Having a mother that truly belonged in a mental institution and an absent father had not prepared Erik for the reality of life outside his mother's attic. The few times he snuck out of the house and visited the town, he found the people there to be savage and cruel. He knew he wore the face of a monster, but Erik also knew that within his chest beat the heart of a human being.
"Why can no one see who I am? Is there no one who can see me? Shall I always be a monstrous being forced to hide behind a mask?"
The boy's impassioned words went unanswered by the tempest that raged about him. Erik placed his hand to his face and held his mask in place as the ferocity of the wind threatened to whip it from his face.
'And,' thought the boy, 'that would never do.'
The tree roots seemed to tangle with his feet purposefully attempting to trip him and the branches clutched and clawed at his clothing.
'If I do not get inside my clothing will soon be in tatters. I need to find someplace out of the storm, someplace safe.'
As if in answer to his silent plea, Erik caught sight of a small flickering light in the distance. Not seeing that he really had any other choice, the boy directed his faltering feet towards it.
'Please? If there is a God, please help me. I have never asked for anything from you before, but if you are there, please help me now. I am just a boy.'
A blue-white streak of lightning flashed down from the heavens, illuminating the stick-thin child, which scrambled through the forest. Too tall for his nine years, too thin with too pale skin, his face reflexively turned up to gape at the bolt streaking across the heavens. Another flash glistened off the water, which beaded on the surface of the porcelain face he wore as a mask. While the slender body quite obviously belonged to a boy, the face he wore was that of a beautiful girl. If someone had taken the time for a closer inspection, they would have discovered that the boy's face was a mask. In actuality, he used the face of a large porcelain doll to mask his features. The sides of the face carefully rounded to remove any sharp edges and five delicate holes pierced the eyes, nostrils and mouth for obvious reasons.
Thunder boomed about the boy and brought him out of his stupor. He once again began his journey towards the light. Another crash of lightning followed by the boom of thunder startled the boy with its closeness and he tripped on a tree root. He fell forward with a cry. He twisted as he fell, hitting his head on the trunk of the tree to whom the roots belonged. The next flash of lightning revealed the crumpled form of the boy lying still beneath the tree.
And the rain continued to pelt the still form.
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Helen hurried through the forest. Her anger escalated with each splash of rain upon her already drenched cloak. She had known that a storm was brewing, but her responsibilities required certain things of her. However, she hoped she would be able to finish her work and return home before the rain began. She had underestimated the time she needed and now, found herself very annoyed at finding herself caught in the torrent, which now soaked her to the bone.
"Of all the stupid things! After all these years I would think I would be able to judge the proper time, I need to perform the ritual! But, no! I just had to have that one last cup of tea and then that extra biscuit! I must be getting soft in the head ...."
The woman ranted as she walked, pausing to wipe an errant rivulet of water that ran into her eye. Lightning sparked across the sky and fate intervened as the woman's eyes caught sight of the still form sprawled atop the gnarled roots of the old oak.
"Merde! Now what?"
She bent and turned over the still form.
"Mon Dieu! What on earth is a child doing out here on a night like this? A child wearing a mask? Hmmm .... Well, there is no such thing as coincidence, so now fate reveals why I must walk in this god-forsaken weather. Well, I see no way around this and no help in sight." She paused and shook the limp form. "Boy! Wake up! Boy?"
She groaned, as her ministrations received no response.
"Damnez-le! Very well, Helen. Stop cursing and get busy. He needs help not your swearing."
The woman gently lifted the boy into her arms, marveling at the lightness of his frame. She hoisted him over her shoulder and resumed her trek through the woods muttering curses as she walked.
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