True Horror Story: The Mask

I was there when he bought the damn thing. We went to a garage sale just out of town; an old woman’s house that had the driveway filled to the very edge with hand-me-downs and knick-knacks. My sister Angie and I were waving through a selection of old dresses when he surprised us with it.

He was just standing there, staring at us behind the eye-holes of that hideous thing. I’ll never forget that thousand-yard stare, coupled with those unsettling lips and wispy strands of hair. I nearly jumped out of my skin, and my sister screamed, one that drew the attention of everyone else browsing the drive.

It was just a prank, something Tom was known for, but there was something so awful about that mask. It looked like a human face.

“You’re such a dick!” Angie said, flailing at his chest. He laughed for a second, extending his arms and acting like a zombie, cheesy moans and all. He kept laughing as he pulled it off, the stretch of the thin rubber elongating the nose and cheeks.

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t resist. I mean, look at this thing!” Tom said as he hugged her around the waist playfully, holding it out for her to see. She was flustered and holding back tears, but she tried to play it off.

“Thanks. I hate it.” Angie said, pushing it away.

I knew then she really didn’t like it. Angie was sensitive to pranks like that. Even when we were kids she would bawl every time I would hide somewhere and scare her, crying long after our parents would comfort her. It was something that stuck with her even into our college years. Angie hated to be scared.

Tom stopped laughing, sensing he had clearly hit a nerve.

“Alright babe, I’m sorry. Sorry, okay? I’ll put it back.” He said, attempting to sooth her with a caress on her cheek. One she didn’t give into until after he tossed it back in the box he found it in. It rolled sloppily over some old VHS tapes, coming to a flattened halt on its side. The empty eye holes stared innocently at Angie, and she shuddered as they went back to browsing.

The mask seemed to have a personality of its own. It was fucking creepy, plain and simple. I knew the thing was going to be a problem, so as they walked away I tried to hide it. I covered it up with another box, one filled with weathered basketballs and old tennis rackets. Tom was smart, even going to college to be a doctor. But he was a natural prankster. If he found it again, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from buying it.

Not long after, we concluded our day at the garage sale. We got a pretty good haul, I found a few old sweaters that would look good with some shoes I had, and Angie got a pair of platform boots, as well as an old vinyl of Purple Rain.

Tom got a haul of his own, clutching an old paper grocery filled with jeans and a 90’s version of the Ab-coaster.

Together we left the garage sale and headed back to town. I drove, and Angie sat up front with me. Tom sat in the backseat, rifling through his bag to inspect the jeans he bought, mumbling something like “you have to pay to get them like this now.”

We drove for a while, taking back roads on our return to town so we could enjoy the sun and the weather. Things had gotten so busy as we got older, it was nice to just drive around like we did when we were teenagers. Looking back, I wish I had taken more time to enjoy Angie’s company, and make more effort to hang out outside of work.

By the time we got to town, we decided we would grab something to eat. We pulled into a burger place, intending to get some food and eat outside. As I swung into a parking spot, Angie unbuckled her seatbelt and swiveled in her seat. I saw it coming in the rear-view mirror, but it was too late.

The scream that followed could’ve woken the dead.

Tom was sitting perfectly still in the backseat. Stretched across his face was the mask from the garage sale.

Angie ran out of the car, screaming bloody murder. Tom took the mask off immediately and threw his hands up in surrender, but Angie was inconsolable.

“I didn’t actually buy it, it was just there in the bag.”

“I don’t know how it came with me, I swear.”

“You saw me buy my stuff! I didn’t buy it. I didn’t even know where it was!”

“I don’t know why I put it on. I just thought I’d get you one more time. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did it.”

Tom pleaded his case, but ultimately it was his fault for buying it, even more so for putting it back on. I didn’t actually see him buy it, but he was smart enough to figure out a way to hide it.

In the end, I was the only one to calm her down. Sprinkling some of that older-sister charm, in the midst of the shitty looks I gave Tom.

He gave me the mask, and I threw it in the trash. I told him I’d kill him if he scared my sister like that again. He apologized several times, most of which fell on deaf ears. He said the same thing over and over again.

I promise I’ll never put the mask on again. It’s gone, okay? It’s over. I promise.

I could hear the sincerity in his voice, he understood he fucked up.

But all I could see was the unsettling look of his eyes behind the mask in the rear-view mirror. I wasn’t easily scared, but there was just something not right about that mask. It made me think of a woman’s face.

Angie came around, eventually. Tom paid for our meals in an attempt to make amends, but it was pretty clear he was in the doghouse for the rest of the day. We ate our food in silence, Angie sniffling while she chewed her cheeseburger. Tom tried joking and turning on the charm. It worked a little bit, but you could tell she was still wounded over the ordeal.

After we ate we decided it was time to call it a day and return home. The two of them had school in the morning, and I had to work the next day. I made an effort to check the garbage before I left. The mask was still there, quietly watching underneath burger wrappers and fountain cups. It stayed there as we pulled away. Tom didn’t even look at it.

They sat together in the backseat, and Angie warmed up to him again. They talked about school, trending shows, and current events. They laughed. Tom was funny when he wanted to be, and he could be really sweet when he wasn’t fucking around. I don’t think I’d ever fully forgive him for the second scare. You don’t quite forget something like that.

Before I got to the campus they were sweet on each other again, and I had to tell them to “get a room”. They laughed a little. It seemed like they had gotten past it.

Tom’s dorm was a couple miles away, and my sister’s apartment was only a couple blocks down the road from there. It was dusk by the time I dropped them off. We said our goodbyes and made plans to get together again when things got less busy, on the condition that we wouldn’t go to any garage sales next time.

On the way home I thought of that horrible mask, and how bad it had scared Angie. There was something about it that I just couldn’t shake. The way its dingy locks felt like human hair. The way the rubber felt like real skin.

Even as I dozed off to some Netflix, I couldn’t get the image out of my head. It made me want to drive back to that burger joint, dig it out of the trash and set it on fire.

In the middle of the night, I woke to the sound of my phone going off. Through the fog of sleep I checked the time. It was shortly after 2am. Angie was calling me.

I answered immediately, thinking something was wrong.

“Hey, Ang. What’s going on?” I said through a yawn.

There was nothing on the other line for a time, and I wondered if she had called me on accident.

“Ang? You there? Hello?”

The only response was rapid breathing, like someone was running in the background.

“Hello? Angie, you there?”

She hung up. I immediately called back.

The phone just rang on the other end, over and over until her voicemail picked it up. I left a message telling her I was worried, and for her to call back.

I was just about to set the phone down and go back to sleep, when I realized I had some unseen notifications. Like a lot of them.

Angie had texted me several times, more and more frequently leading up to her call:

Hey, you up?

I know it’s stupid, but I keep thinking about that mask

You guys threw it away right?

Right?

I called Tom, but he’s not answering. Probably playing cod again :/

You guys threw it away right?

Sorry, I can’t stop thinking about it. I know it’s dumb

Wtf

We lost power, weird

Tom’s not answering, would you mind picking me up? I can’t sleep

I guess I’ll just try to sleep. It’s fuckin creepy here though

I think there’s someone in my apartment

Oh god

The last text was an attachment, and image that hadn’t downloaded yet. My heart raced as I stared at the screen, waiting for the Wi-Fi to do its thing.

When I opened the image, I wanted to scream.

The picture looked like her living room, the center of it illuminated by the flash of her phone’s camera. Tom was sitting on the couch in the dark, staring blankly at the turned off television. He was only wearing a t-shirt and boxers, his feet covered in dirt.

Stretched over his head was that horrible mask.

I called Angie again, and when she didn’t pick up, I called the police. I reported a break-in, and started getting dressed to head over there myself.

By the time I arrived, the entire apartment complex was lit up. Four squad cars, a firetruck, and an ambulance. No sign of Angie, or Tom. Neither of them answered the phone.

People were standing outside in their pajamas, looking terrified, pointing their fingers. I had to push past the group to see, and when I did, I felt a knot forming in my throat. Everyone was looking at the same thing, despite the policemen’s efforts to keep them back.

The stairs leading to Angie’s apartment were covered in blood, a trail that continued onto the sidewalk and into the grass. The messy drag mark kept going until it reached the woods, where it seemingly vanished.

It took two weeks before the police would give me any details, aside from what I already knew. They can’t really explain what happened, they don’t really have a straight answer. There’s obvious suspicion of foul play, but there’s no witnesses. With the power being out, there’s no eyewitness statement on what unfolded. They suspect the blood spatter started in the bedroom, but there’s no murder weapon to clarify exactly what happened. There’s dozens of handprints on the sheets, stained in blood. All Angie’s, because they’re simply too small for a man’s hands. There were muddy footprints all over her apartment, but only an adult male’s. Angie didn’t take another step after what happened in the bed. They searched the woods for her, but the trail went cold immediately. No blood after the drag mark… nothing. Like they just disappeared.

Tom didn’t have a car. That night, he had left his phone, wallet, and dorm key on his nightstand.

They said they’ll keep me updated, but I can see it in their eyes. They have nothing. It’s already over.

I went back to that burger joint where we tossed the mask and went through the garbage. I checked the bin we tossed it in, even cut open every bag in the dumpster behind the building. The mask wasn’t there.

I went to the old woman’s house and questioned her about the mask she sold us, but she had no idea what I was talking about. She remembered us quite clearly, but she said she never sold us a mask. She never had one in the first place.

Both Angie and Tom were never seen again.

Their disappearance and the cause have shaken our little town to its core. I don’t understand. Nobody seems to understand. The news can speculate, people can form their “theories”, but it doesn’t really matter.

The lack of reasoning behind this isn’t what keeps me up at night. It’s not the fact that the trail goes cold. It’s not the fact that we combed the woods and found nothing. It’s not the fact that the burger joint was three and a half miles away from the dorms and her apartment. It’s a little detail in the police report, one that was left out of the press.

Tom’s muddy footprints were all over the crime scene. Up the apartment stairs, heavy imprints outside the door before they let themselves in. They led from the front door to the couch, where he sat in the same spot of the picture Angie sent me. A single path leads to the bedroom, presumably following her to the bedroom where she ran in fear. The mud tracks don’t follow her to the bed, though.

They go up the wall, and onto the ceiling, where they stop. Directly above her bed.

In the exact spot, I see them now.

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