Carlotta Montoya

Carlotta stared in awe at the giant wooden doors of Eldridge Manor. She pushed her glittering green masquerade mask up the bridge of her nose and inhaled deeply before taking the doors’ brass knocker in hand and banging three times.

The doors swung open, revealing an elderly bald man wearing a neatly tailored suit. He had a clipboard in hand, and a loud, festive party served as a backdrop for him.

“Good evening, Miss…?” his voice trailed off.

“Montoya. Miss Carlotta Montoya,” she replied, finishing his sentence.

He glanced at his clipboard with his squinty eyes before looking up and saying,

“Ah, yes, Miss Montoya. The Eldridges have been expecting you.” He stepped aside, allowing Carlotta to join the party.

She had never been to an event as massive or as luxurious as this. She was certain even her ballet performances never had this many attendees. Her head spun excitedly at the sound of musical ensemble, the glimmering golden decorations. It was obvious the Eldridges spared no expense for this party.

She scurried around the ballroom dancers, making her way to a table lined with bottles of spirits. Carlotta poured herself a glass of champagne. She sighed in delight as she leaned against a nearby wall.

Many socialites stared at her, amused at her quiet, reserved nature. To be boisterous at a masquerade was usual, nay, expected. Self-consciousness creeped in as she realised many curious eyes were on her. Her cheeks flushed red. She pushed herself off the wall and was off to mingle with fellow guests. It’s a party, Carly. Have fun, she assured herself.

She wandered aimlessly around the ballroom, her eyes flitting from person to person. One man caught her eye though, his sleek black suit commanding attention. She stared, uncertain on how to approach him. The man turned his head, noticing Carlotta eyeing him. He grinned, and walked over to her, taking his steps in stride until he stood across from the Hispanic ballerina. His piercing green eyes, framed with a plain black mask met her brown ones.

“Hello,” he said enthusiastically. The masked man inched closer to Carlotta. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“Yes,” Carlotta smiled.

He returned the smile, “Well, would you let me enjoy it with you?” He held out a white-gloved hand.

Carlotta took his hand. He led her out on the dance floor and they got into position for a slow waltz. They danced in silence, but where words were absent smiles were abundant. When their dance was done, they walked off the floor, hand-in-hand.

“You were a good dancer,” the man said gracefully.

Carlotta blushed at his homespun charm. “Thank you. My name is Carlotta, and yourself?”

He pulled her closer to him by her hips. His light fingers roamed across her body as he grinned a mischievous grin and said, “Charlie Sinclair.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Charlie Sinclair,” she replied.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips.

Charlie finally felt his hand catch on a hidden pocket sewn inside Carlotta’s sea green dress. They looked deep into each other’s eyes before Charlie gave Carlotta a prolonged kiss on the cheek. As he was charming her, he discreetly removed her cell phone and a few loose bills from her person. He pocketed the goods and pulled himself away from Carlotta. With a wink and a smile, he disappeared into the crowd.

A wistful smile appeared on Carlotta’s face. She was painfully reminded of her David. A barrage of emotions came over her, as all memories of her lost lover became conscious thoughts. She was brought back to every starry night alone with him, every time she felt protected in his arms, every kiss…

A single tear rolled down her cheek. When she snapped back, the sharpness of reality contrasted with the dull wisps of memories. The clamorous clattering of thousands of heeled shoes trampled her feelings of pleasant nostalgia.

The façade of her emotionless expression kept away any gossiping socialites. She wiped the tear from her face with back of her hand and shook her head, trying to escape the funk that had overcome her.

She skirted around the ballroom, unsure of her destination. The lighting was dimming, muting the colours of the ladies’ dresses and the turning the black of the mens’ tailcoats darker than ravens’ feathers. Their outdated regalia and wicked spinning made it difficult to distinguish one cavorting couple from another; their uniform white masks that obscured their faces made it impossible. None of them took note of the silk-clad Hispanic girl staring wide-eyed at them; it was as if they were lost to the world, their only anchor their partner.

Carlotta shoved her way to the edge of the crowd, trying to get a closer look at the promenade. She squinted, trying to pinpoint even the smallest difference in them, until she caught a slightest glimpse of their face.

Their eyes were painted onto their masks.

She gasped, terrified at the waltzing horrors. She staggered back, crashing onto the floor. Pairs of shining eyes met her crazed ones, and stared at her in disgust and disgrace.

“Are you always on the floor, girl?”

“Get up!”

“What in the hell was that for?!”

The remarks pounded against her eardrums and with each call against her, the voices sounded less and less human. She covered her ears and clumsily pushed herself off the ground, careening from the crowd to the other side of the ballroom. Breathing heavily, she wiped the nervous sweat off her forehead. Her eyes searched for the door but to no avail. Hoping to block out the terrors around her she buried her face in her hands. Faint cries echoed around her and she fell to the floor in hysterical tears, overwhelmed by her senses. She curled up against the floor in defense, until her all of the moans approaching her were suddenly quieted.

She composed herself, uncurling herself. There were dozens of eyes on her. She was breathing heavily, exhaling with relief when she thought she was safe from any monstrosities, as all of the eyes peering down on her in curiousity were human.

She was pushing herself off the polished floor, slowly looking up and disregarding any judging stares. Her head was clouded by fear of the hallucinations she had experienced, but she managed to get up off of the floor. Someone held out a hand to lead her away from the crowd gathering around her. She nodded and took his hand, her eyes on her feet. They lead her to the door, and she nodded. It was nearly unbearable to look into the faces of her fellow guests, however she turned her head up to thank the person who helped her. She tried to salvage a gracious smile, and rasped out, “Thank you.” The pitiable expression on her face twisted into horror as the man returned the smile, his mouth full of teeth too hideous for any beast of the Earth.

Carlotta let out a bloodcurdling scream and fell against the door, shattering the wood. She fell into an abysmal void, and she felt restraining tentacles tangling themselves around her limbs. She wanted to cry out, but nothing escaped her mouth. She kicked and tried to fight her way out of their grasp, but they continued to wrap their slimy feelers around her being until she was fully encased.

Her mind emptied, devoid of anything other than pain. She was slowly easing into unconsciousness, and for the first time in years she felt the fear of death surging through her thoughts. She remembered her body going limp.

When she awoke a second time, she saw no eyes welcoming her back to consciousness, only the harsh lighting of a hospital. Her eyes wandered to her left arm, looking for any injury the tentacles might have caused, but only saw the straps confining her to her bed. Crisscrossed scars were up the length of her arm, looking discoloured in the lighting.

She struggled against the bindings, but to no avail. The white lights above were getting brighter, highlighting her sallow features.

As she let the illumination overcome her body, she felt as if it overwhelmed the darknesses in her life and she felt, finally, at peace.

Author's Note

Accepting any and all critique.