Adventures in anonymity

This afternoon I changed my outfit five times. I switched my earrings twice, the second time because I was informed I was being cliche and pretentious. I worried about the temperature being colder than I anticipated, but left my apartment anyway. I rode the train in pensive silence, watching the sun set and the buildings speed by.

I ate my dinner quickly and without stopping, and my foot never ceased its tapping on the footrest of the bar stool. My companion and I stood in line for a short while, and then entered into an unremarkable corridor. After checking our coats, we scurried through the first maze into the bar. Stage fog rolled around the velvet tufted seating, the lights creating shadows that obscured the faces of those around us. We arrived at the velvet curtain when our cards were called, put our masks on, and got on the elevator up.

We stepped off the elevator… into a graveyard. It was like a graveyard for children, the crosses were small and the dirt was loose and piled haphazardly. I espied a cloak disappearing around the corner into another room, and chased after it. I looked back only to find my companion was gone…

I wandered. I wandered through a desolate and forlorn gravel courtyard, I passed through an infirmary lined with stained bathtubs. I entered cautiously into a study, and hesitantly read the scattered notes on the desk. Sometimes others in masks joined me, one followed me for a short time. I found the forest and the breath caught in my throat. It was here that I met up with my companion again, confirmed by a touch to his elbow and in return, receiving a knowing nod. It was here that I lost him again too. Later on I found myself back in the forest, witnessing a nurse who in turn, saw a ghost and gave chase.

I ran my fingers over everything, I am a tactile person and this appealed to me. I touched smooth rocks piled in a child’s bed, I touched tattered curtains as I stumbled into a man fleeing for his life. I wound up losing someone I was following, and in turn ended up in a witches’ den or wild apothecary of sorts. The drying herbs and melted candles gave such a warm and grassy scent to the room, so I put off leaving until I had circuited through twice. I lingered at windows a lot, choosing to watch the action from behind the window rather than crowded in with the pack of greedy, pushy other ghosts. We were all ghosts this evening, albeit ones that were more often than not, in the way.

I watched her bathe the blood off his body, and then become obsessed with the remnants of blood she couldn’t get rid of. I watched another, wild with grief and anger. He tore through the hallway, turning over every mirror and finally resorting to climbing the walls themselves. The final scene - the hanging, and there we all were, a room full of anonymous ghosts, watching, observing, craving interaction from what was left of the living.

Afterwards, emerging into the bar and removing the mask - it was a few minutes before I found my companion again, and even longer before we finally found ourselves streetside again. Would I go again? Not under those conditions; there were entirely too many people. But I’m glad I did it, and experienced a little bit of magic while it lasted…