Majora's Mask

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Majora's Mask

Post by Masked (kingRa) on Sun Sep 04, 2011 2:43 pm

Just my interpretation of the infamous 2000 video game. Kudos to you if you manage to read through it all~

There once was an imp who had four great friends. Even though the imp was very different from his friends, they were very close and they did everything together. So close that they were his only real friends, everybody else was mean and cold. One day, his four friends decided to leave the world.
"We are needed elsewhere, imp. We love you and care for you, but our duty is as important as our friendship." And with that, they left. The imp, of course, was distraught. He had nobody else to turn to. He was not good with coming up with conversation, and he wasn't talented like everybody else. He was lonely and sad and desperate for anyone-anything to warm his cold and frozen soul. But for a good while, the cold ice in his soul went on for an endless winter.
After such a while, the imp began to play pranks on people, displacing his sadness on innocent people. The people, of course, retaliated, and accosted him for these pranks. "That is the boy who has no friends-that is the boy who has no face!" they shouted, "We ban you from our town, imp, go far away from here!"
Oh and tears formed in the imp's eyes. Cold tears. Almost as cold as the rain in his soul. He ran...ran and ran and ran until his faceless self could not take it any longer. He was still crying, but his tears were not tears of sadness anymore, but tears of anger. As he left this world, the imp, by fate, came across a salesman, and so the imp decided to play one more prank.
"What are you doing?" asked the salesman, "The items I sale are very precious, do not come any closer-" but it was too late. The imp knocked the salesman unconscious and began to shuffle through his huge luggage of "precious items". The imp laughed in a child-like screech, however; the items were a bunch of stupid doo-hickeys and toys...
The imp came across a strange artifact the size of a skull. Heart-shaped, but it looked nothing like a real heart. It was tinted with a purplish black, strange lines, and colors, that reminded the imp of tie-dye. Spikes ran across the body of the "heart", establishing a perimeter. Three spikes on each side-and one spike on each of the two humps of the heart. The artifact, which he now noted was a mask, had two orange-cold eyes. Staring at him blankly-calling him, terrifying him. But the mask was so real-unlike the people who threw him out of the world, cold and heartless. Unlike the people he tried to make friends with. Unlike his four friends...who abandoned him in a time where he them the most. The mask, though just a mask, at least made him feel necessary in the world. It was the only heart that had found him; now, here they were.
He could not let fate decide again, so he did what could only be right. He stole the mask. He put it on. And they became one…for a time

Things were different with the mask on his face. The imp wasn’t afraid of showing a new face to the townspeople; in fact, he anticipated the action. The mask, though just a mask, gave him confidence-enough to exact his revenge. Indeed, the boy still felt the fingers pointing at him, the betrayal he did not deserve. They would pay the price for destroying his soul, for destroying his only world. And so, he would do the same exact thing to the innocent townspeople.
Oh the power of a mask in front of a face is no mere covering. It uses its wearer as a puppet, sucking its soul, so that the wearer would do things he would normally not do without the mask. That power, when harnessed and used at a most powerful emotion (the imp’s was of course anger) could bring down a moon on an innocent group of people.
And so…
“The moon. Good Lord, the moon,” one townswoman wailed, “it is closer than ever before.”
“Impossible,” said another one.
“Unbelievable,” yet another one.
At the sight of a moon with anger, crashing down at an incredible speed, there was nothing really to be said. It was horrifying, but waking up to a death as terrifying as this, left the townspeople speechless, tears slowly building in their burning eyes.
The imp sat at the top of the center of the town building, overlooking the wails and screaming of a world destined to end. The eyes of his mask looked coldly upon the people who betrayed him, and he felt powerful. He did not feel no pity. But then again, the imp had trouble feeling anything; for the mask had stolen his soul, and now, “it” was in control.
At time’s end, at the most saddest of moments in that world, a chant so loud was heard, and it pierced the imp’s ears. It was not a wail, nor a chant, nor a cry, it was a cheer-and it came from four directions. One from the west- loud steps could be heard, walking proudly toward the center of the town. “Things are not supposed to be like this.”
One from the north- proudly walking toward the center. “Between your hardships, there is a flower underneath.”
One from the south- proudly walking toward the center. “Live for yourself, not for your mask.”
One from the east-proudly walking toward the center. “It is time to set things right.”

With an amazing power of teamwork and friendship, the four friends came together and grabbed the moon. With trust, they proudly, elegantly, threw the moon into the heavens. Order was put to the town. To the world. Except for one imp with a mask.
All this time, the imp only stared at his four friends; they looked more mature now. They were wiser and stronger, too good for him.
“Imp,” they spoke in unison, “take off your mask from the underneath.” The imp did as he was told. “You caused this world much trouble, and you almost destroyed life entirely.”
“But look at you now,” they continued. The imp looked up, “You are beautiful, friend, your face is much more beautiful than the ugly thing you once wore.” The imp blinked; they still thought he was a friend. “Promise us, imp, this is your world, too. Promise us you will treat it as such.”
The imp nodded; he looked down at his feet and shivered quietly. The four friends separated and left to their four respective directions.
He looked at the mask he once wore. He wanted to put it on.

Instead, the imp went to the west to throw the mask into the swamp that resided there. He didn’t need it anymore. He only needed one face and that was beautiful enough.
Masked (kingRa)
Masked (kingRa)

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