Lost behind masks, Noah was trying to not remain put for too long. It felt odd in that quiet room, the only sound that disturbed the silence being that of sand brushing over the cold green blocks that made up the 'floor'. It did not simply refer to his presence in that place, but also to the place itself. There was a magical tint to it, something that gave the sensation that even air was an intruder when it came to this mysterious walkway.
The room actually was the space defined by the few block that kept him from plummeting into the dark void below. The secreted depths called out to him, he could feel the touch of fingers tracing the lines of his face, trying to sooth him over the edge. Still, he was kept away from the secrets that lied in the Dark's shroud by the blocks that moved along with him. Each step summoned another block, each simmering with a bright emerald light that dispelled the darkness, and lengthened the path that he was following.
The small room kept growing in size as his curiosity drove Noah forward. Alongside the floor, hung in invisible niches in the air, stood masks, each encased in a perfect square of silk that constantly fluttered despite the lack of the slightest breeze. the masks themselves shined brightly, each being part of a different act. They were not to be touched, that much was clear to him.
As he went along, Noah's steps started to drift closer to the edge of the path, closer to the niches. He could still feel the delicate ghostly touches, but, as time went by, he could feel that their caresses had taken on a hint of urgency. Each time he went by a mask Noah felt the finger guiding his face towards the shimmering cases, towards the hollow eye sockets. And each stare into those empty spaces brought a new voice, a new story to his mind.
As he walked down the line Noah found himself drifting from life to life. He was always lead there by one of the masks, each different in its own way. Some revealed traces of glorious pasts by sporting marvelous engravings on their surface. Others spoke of plainer, gentler lives such as those that befitted a man of the land, one that understood that he will only take from this land exactly what he brought to it, himself. With each story another touch disappeared, satisfied for having been given the chance to share the story of its past.
Noah could not help but marvel at the proportions of what he saw. Rows upon rows of masks sat around him, calling for him, calling for his eyes. They all wanted to share, to give away their story in exchange for even a moment's glimpse of the world through the eyes of an actor. This place held not just masks of men, they held the masks of legends and stories that carved time himself.
Finally, his steps had brought him to the last place that he was to see on this path. Slowly, Noah's fingers began to track the lines of his face, making their way over the fine lines of laughter and frowns and slowly separating what he was from what will remain. With trembling hands, he carefully lifted the newest mask and placed it in the air where it was soon encased in another plain cubicle, his tongue briefly flickering over his lips as he was focusing on the mask. It was going to always be one of his favorites, both then and long after another keeper shall walk down the same magical hallways and lead the remnants of souls to their final resting place. But for now he was no longer Noah, he was just the Keeper.
A hood gently caressing his featureless head, he now moved back the way he came, the blocks retreating with him. Soon the only thing that kept the dark at bay was the mask's faint blue light that kept calling out for anyone willing to look deep into its essence and learn of its tale. Just then, however, it was just another Noah, one last addition to a long line of tale makers of all ranks and kinds that roamed the earth, leaving their stage only when they answered their grim keeper's call.
There, in that dark corridor, there was no end of life nor any eternal boredom spent guzzling ambrosia or brimstone. There, in that endless night, they were never alone for they had countless minds to intertwine their energies with. There, along that endless path, they sat and taunted their keeper, showing him that even though he had the power to bring down the curtains and end their plays they still would not be stopped from reaching forth and sharing dreams and hopes.
There Noah sat and let himself rest before being called again upon the stage, before getting to bring another smile to a pair of warm lips, a tear to a pair of eyes and a story to a pair of ears, all to be crafted by his peers. If the world's a stage, would it not make sense for spirit to be just a mask to be placed on a shelf after the completion of its assigned part? That was what Noah asked and what the Keeper knew that he would never share the answer to.
***
Thus comes the end of the story and the beginning of a night's sleep. Well earned, i hope. :))
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