Smiling Mask Vendor by Rinanda Hidayat 

His face was blank, no eyes, no mouth, nothing, on his back was a towering backpack, twice the size of his body and on his belt hung the masks he sells, three of them : Happy, Sad, and Angry.

“What are you looking for today?” asked the mask man.

“My in-law is coming, I need to be happy,” replied a woman with furrowed brows.

“I see,” the vendor put his backpack down, and with just a quick pull, he got exactly what he wanted: a mask with a half circle smile “You know what happens next–”

“Yes, yes just hurry on with it,” the woman closed her eyes, the vendor put his hands on her forehead, grabbed the skin, and peeled her face off, there were no screams, no blood, only another blank face. The vendor thrusted the smiling mask into the woman’s face, it wrapped itself around her head then pulsated for a few beats, after that the skin swallowed it, a pair of eyes emerged from inside, then a mouth, a nose, everything else followed. The woman’s face was reborn, the furrowed brows and the unamused frown  had become all smiling, all cheerful, all happy.

“There you go, the effect will wear off–”

“I know, you don’t have to tell me everytime.”

“I do, it’s written on my contract.”

“Whatever, I got what I wanted.,” the woman turned and walked away.

The vendor looked at the woman’s peeled off face and put it on his own, it pulsated then vanished like before, followed by the emerging of the eyes, mouth and what not, soon a face was formed, one with furrowed brows and unamused frown. The vendor took a deep breath and screamed, releasing all the rage and frustration within him, it was loud enough that even the clouds trembled, but none heard it.

As seconds passed, the vendor’s voice grew fainter and his face gradually cracked until they were nothing but blank.  The vendor tapped his foot three times and the ground swallowed him.

A few days later, the vendor resurfaced to find another person looking for him, it was a man this time, suited and choked by his tie.

“Excuse me mister, are you the one who sells masks”

“Yes, what are you looking for?”

“So, one of my employees made a mistake, a big one and I need to yell at him for it, but I can’t–I just can’t be mad at him.”

“I see,” the vendor pulled a mask from his backpack, one with furrowed brows and an unamused frown “you need this.”

“That’s perfect, how much will it cost?”

“Just a layer of face.”

“You’re going to rip my face off?”

“Don’t worry, you won’t feel a thing.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, I don’t want to be angry all the time.”

“That won’t happen, after a day the effect will wear off and you’ll get your face back.”

“I–I see, I guess that’s fine.”

“Then close your eyes, it will be done before you know it,” the man did just that, the vendor put his hand on the man’s forehead.

“You’re certain this won’t hurt?”

“Yes, now don’t speak please,” the man spoke not another word, the vendor tore up his face and put the mask on the man, it pulsated, eyes emerged, etc. A new face is formed, one of anger.

“There you go,” The vendor pulled up a mirror from his backpack.

“This is incredible,” the man touched his newfound face. “I feel more confident already,” the man bowed to the vendor “thank you for your service.”

“My pleasure.”

“I’ll be going now, but I might come back some time later.”

“I’m fine with that,” the man gave the vendor a last bow and left. After the man was out of sight, the vendor put on his face and the once blank slate had grown into a sad frown, the vendor knelt to the ground, clutched himself and cried, tears after tears, the sky wept along him, with each drop cracking the mask till it was no more, yet still none heard him.

The vendor tapped his feet and disappeared into the ground.

Sometime later, he reemerged, now at the present of a young woman wearing a face somehow even more blank than his.

“You sell masks, don’t you?”

“What are you looking for?”

“Sadness.”

“Sadness?” the vendor was taken aback “not many people choose that.”

“Do you have it or not?”

“Of course, but why do you need such a mask?”

“It’s my mother’s funeral, I need to cry..”

“I see,”  the vendor pulled a mask from his backpack, one with tears running down its cheeks. “here it is.”

“Looks good to me.”

“For payment, I need to peel a layer of your face, but don’t worry, it’s not goin–”

“I’m fine with that,”

“Of course, close your eyes please” the woman did just that, the vendor put his arm on her forehead and began the masking process, after going through all the steps, the woman’s face was reborn, into one of drooping brows and glistening eyes.

“There you go, the effect will wear off 24 hours from now,” the vendor pulled a mirror from his backpack.

“So this is what I should look like,” said the woman “This will do, thank you,” the woman left.

The vendor looked at her original face “this must be,” he muttered as he put on the mask, after the process was done, the vendor’s face changed into one of frown.

 “How odd, how very–” the vendor struggled to finish his word, choking on the great sadness that was to come, he fell to the ground, and cried until his tear dried off, until the sun slept and the moon awoke, in bated breath, in absolute agony, he cried, tears after tears after tears after tears, and yet still, none heard him.

Rinanda Hidayat is a young aspiring writer from Indonesia, he has been writing as a hobby for the past 3 year and has written many stories, but due to some circumstances (namely fear and laziness) he doesn’t have a single published work yet, but he’s been trying to fight his fear and put himself out there, hoping he can gain more confidence in his work and himself.

Rinanda Hidayat

Image: Pixabay.com – black and white border of mase tied together with ribbon