Your Eyes and Other Dreams

Mascarade

She danced like she was made of fire, but her eyes shone like the hypnotizing depths of the ocean.

That was the first thing I noticed about her as I watched from my seat near the bar.

The second thing, was that I was not the only one admiring. The girl in the carmine clothes had a ton of spectators who, like myself, were enchanted by her lonely yet lively movements, too scared to interrupt, because her beauty erupted something fatal that made it even harder to look away. Like mythical creatures that crawled out of children tales, I thought she would turn to stone anyone who met her gaze. Even worse, if that were true, many would gladly be petrified; a low price to be paid for a second of her undivided attention. But she was now swinging, and her whole world seemed to be in the music.

Her disguise didn't reveal much, and was clearly not meant to provoke, unlike the ones the other girls – dressed as degrading bunnies, fairies and witches – wore. A robe, dark red, fell around her shoulders, exposing them, tied to her neck delicately and hinting an also red top underneath. The tunic fell nearly grazing the floor, almost flowing at her feet. I wondered, while eyeing the blood colored stripes painted over her face and shoulders, why was she alone, if she was escaping too. The paint curled at her cheekbones delicately, making them look sharper, and also stripped her shoulders. If I graced my fingers through it, would it blear? Would it blur out over her skin, staining my hands too? She seemed so distant from this world, I was almost sure it wouldn't. She would remain the same. Eternal like her beauty.

"You could just, you know," Grant said, snapping me out of my daydreaming, "talk to her."

Of course, my friend was not even paying attention to the mystery girl. Ever since he got together with Lea, he didn't have eyes for anyone else, or speak about anything else, for that matter. "Lea this, Lea that," it was sweet to see him in love, and just as annoying.

"Creepy staring is not quite the best move with ladies," Lea, by his side, mocked.

I shrugged, taking my drink and finishing it. It scorched my throat, relaxed the tension in my arms.

I didn't see the problem with staring. It was not as if she would notice. Right after parking the car at the fraternity's door I threw on a mask– Grant said it was too creepy, like something a serial killer would wear, or a bank robber –, that didn't allow my eyes nor my face to be seen. Even on Halloween, no one likes to be face to face with a monster. Someone – I couldn't remember quite the face – said that many years ago, and it, somehow, stuck with me.

The girl's dance died slowly with the song, her eyes opened, and a smile brightened her features. As if the world didn't weight an ounce over her shoulders. But I knew a broken soul the moment I saw it, and underneath the white pearls of her smile, the shiny hair, and the graceful movement of her hips, that girl irradiated all-consuming sorrow. It was painfully beautiful to watch.

When I first saw her, around ten minutes ago, she had her hair in a braid that swinged around her, but now it was gone, and her hair, dark and curly, cascaded over her back. Ten minutes, and I hadn't seen her interact with anyone. It was almost as if she had come on her own.

"What?" I barked over my shoulder. Grant wouldn't shut up by my side. He was saying something about tardiness and being worried.

"I was just asking if you knew anything about Seth. He was supposed to be here like ten minutes ago."

My eyes widened.

Shit, Seth.

Grant was right. He was supposed to be here, the whole "bros night out" had been his idea. Where was that dork?