Chapter Seven: Of Masks and Men

In the years that followed, Smith taught me how to pull myself into a more human shape, by showing me pictures of people and letting me try to mimic them. I could never get the fine details, and things always seemed a little off. Any attempt to make a face ended looking like a childs drawing, and was the one thing that truly frustrated me. Smith would watch as I tried to contort my face in different ways, making lines and shapes but never getting it right. The more frustrated I became the less control I had and the harder it was to get it right, which only served to make me more frustrated and more unstable. He would just smile and laugh and tell me, “you aint gotta get so worked up about it. Havin a face aint that important, hell I’ve had one all my life and I can’t say Ive ever been rightly pleased with it.” This would always make him laugh, and when he laughed my spirits lifted, and I didn’t feel so bad.

Once I was able to take a stable enough human shape, Smith put me to work on the farm. My ability to stretch or use extra tendrils made me a great worker, able to fill multiple troughs at once, and reach or carry things that Smith was just too old to handle anymore. Despite his age though, Smith never stopped working, always standing alongside me and working just as hard. While we worked, smith would tell me stories about his life or his family. He taught me about the world outside and about how dangerous yet exciting it can be. I would listen in awe as he regaled me with stories from around the world and filled me with his wisdom. To me, there was no one in the world as wise and learned as Smith was. And there was no one who worked as hard either. Besides working on the farm, Smith also let me watch as he worked in the forge, making horseshoes and nails to be used around the farm. He would tell me that though the metal was solid, when enough heat was added it could be molded into anything imaginable. “In a way, it’s a lot like you. I can take this hear lump of metal and make it into somethin more useful, just like you can mold yourself into whatever you need. But no matter what shape it’s in, it’s still metal. Ya can mold somethin all ya want, ya can twist it and bend it and make it sharper or duller, but you can never change what it is at heart. Ya are what ya let yourself be my boy, cause no matter what shape you take, you’ll always be you.” He said things like that a lot when we were in the forge, always telling me that I was a great person, no matter what I looked like, always trying to make me feel like I wasn’t a monster. He made me feel like I belonged. So night after night, we’d stand together, bathed in the glow of the forge’s flames, and it was in those moments I felt most like a part of a family.

He always said his hard work was the reason he was so healthy. But what I didn’t know then is that Smith was not as healthy as he seemed. When he pushed himself too hard, he had violent coughing fits that sounded terrible and always made me worried. As the years went on, the fits became worse and more frequent. I would always drop what I was doing and rush to his side, but he would just brush me away saying, “I’m fine boy, get back to work. We got lots to do. Bein’ old ain’t no excuse to stop workin.” He always smiled at me when he said this, in an attempt to ease my worries, and most times it did. But as time went on, I could see the years catching up to him behind that strong and happy demeanor. Though the smile remained, I could see the truth in his tired eyes.

One night, after returning from some late night chores, I came in to find smith asleep in his chair, holding a round package and a letter. Upon further inspection I found that the letter was for me, and I quickly opened it and began to read.

My dearest son,

        Livin with you has made me the happiest I’ve been in a long time. And though you may not see yourself as human, I think your one of the greatest men I’ve ever known. You make me proud to call myself your father. I gotta thank you for listening to this old man ramble on about his life. 

Lately I’ve been workin out in the forge after you go to sleep to work on something special for you. It’s always been one of my favorite things to watch you grow and change, and to see you refine your shape. The one thing that I always remember that frustrated you was that you could never get the face quite right. I thought long and hard about how I could help you out, but no face I could find ever quite felt right. So I decided to make one for ya myself. In the package I hold in my hand is a mask made of the strongest metal I’ve ever seen. One of those critters from the facility dropped it while trying to eat up one of my pigs. It’s pretty fancy stuff if I do say so myself. I kept it for a long time, never quite knew what to use it for. But now I do. Such a good son like you deserves only the best. I hope you like it.

Now comes the hard part. I been sick for a real long time. I never told ya cause you worried about me too much as it was. But I know I'm on my last leg, which is why I'm writin this letter. Before I want you to know that I love you like you were one of my own, and I’m proud to be your pop. You’ve become a wonderful person, and I'm sure you’ll go great places. Guess this is goodbye son..

Eternally yours,

        Edward J. Smith

 

As I put the letter down, my entire body began to tremble. “It can’t be true, you can’t be dead!”  I slowly put a trembling hand at his neck and checked his pulse. Nothing. “ No…no no no no NO! PLEASE! YOU CAN’T GO! I NEED YOU! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE!” my entire body began to writhe and convulse wildly as a flood of emotion swept me away. I began to howl and scream at the top of my lungs as my body raged, tendrils flying around the room, slamming into walls and knocking things from their shelves. By this point I had completely lost my shape, and broke down completely. The only person who had ever cared about me, who made me feel like I belonged somewhere was gone, and I was alone again.

The strain must have been so great that it caused me to pass out, for when I awoke, I was but a puddle at Smith’s feet. I finally mustered enough strength to pull myself up, and saw the package still gripped in his cold hands. I slowly took my human-esque form and took the package from him. As I unwrapped it, I was met with a round steel disk, bowed out slightly at the center. In the mask, three holes were drilled, two at the top and a larger one at the bottom. Two eyes and a mouth. Smith had made me a face, just like he said in the letter. I held the cold steel against me and cradled it, holding close the last piece of him I had.

I remained in the house for a few weeks, to upset and unstable to do anything. I didn’t know what to do with myself. It was then that Smith’s words began to echo in my mind “I’m sure you’ll go great places”. I decided there and then that I would make my way out into the world and find my place, it’s what Smith would’ve wanted. So that day, I filled up the troughs one last time, packed some food, and left that place behind forever, bound to make a new life for myself.