Masquerade: Flash Fiction
When he lifted the mask, Charlotte and I giggled as we stared at him. We were the only ones noticing him.
Or so we thought.
He was with another woman, walking closer to her, his face leaning closer to her lips. I was hiding behind a pillar, hoping that he wouldn't see me staring at him. I knew, without a doubt, that I was too young for Lord Weatherley. Still, it did not stop me from staring.
"Lord Weatherley is about to reveal his identity to Lady Sophia Havisham," Charlotte whispered. "His true identity."
"I wish I were a lady so I can be in the ball," I whispered to Charlotte. "I wish I had my own identity."
"You wish you were Lady Sophia Havisham," she said, shaking her head. "I can see the way you look at him. You want that. Don't you?"
I was at a loss for words. Everything was jumbled into my mind and I couldn't form a a single, coherent thought. But I supposed Charlotte was right. My twin sister and I shared a telepathy. The masquerade ball did not go exactly as I had wished it would. In my dreams, I imagined myself already coming out. I wanted to be a proper lady, like the woman who was in Lord Weatherley's arms. But I knew that it would be a long time until my twin and I would grow up into women. And what kind of women would we be? Women worthy of attention? Miserable, pathetic wall-flowers that no one noticed at any party or social event?
It wasn't until years later that I realized the truth behind the mask. Women weren't free to be whomever they chose to be and that my life was nothing more than a masquerade ball, constantly hiding my true identity. And I would see those wall-flowers who were hardly noticed at all and wish, so dreadfully, that I was among those lot of women.
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