The Mask

As the clock struck two, the sorcerer woke up. It had been a tiring year and he was feeling completely soulless. He looked around. He knew that no one could see him unless he chose to be visible.

He was surprised to see that no one had cared to inspect the mask.

‘Why no one is curious about that mask? Have they come to suspect that it’s a trap? But that’s not possible?’

He had made elaborate preparations. It had taken him almost a year to plan everything to the last detail. He would, finally, become master of their souls. Someone had to just touch the mask and his magic would do the rest. The magic would spread like a contagion and everyone who got afflicted would forfeit his soul.  

No one, however, could be forced to touch the mask. His teacher had been rudely adamant. He could only lay a trap and wait.

When waiting became painful he decided to persuade someone to inspect and touch the mask.  

‘Don’t you think that mask over there is the finest piece of art?’ the sorcerer tried to be as subtle as was possible.

‘Which mask? I can’t see any mask,’ the man looked at the sorcerer;  he gave the sorcerer a mysterious look and vanished.

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A post for Magpie Tales.