The Mask

She’d always worn a mask. No one questioned her motives; no one dared to ask why. It was simply a given that Stella Ridley wore her crimson mask everywhere she went. She didn’t wear it because she had some facial deformity. It was widely believed that she was rather beautiful underneath that handcrafted piece of red Venetian leather, yet still she continued to wear it.

Despite the mask, the one thing that really distanced her from reality, she made friends easily. Her manner was unassuming, relaxed, understanding. She allowed much and forbade nothing. All were equal in her eyes, from the darkest, most sorrowful soul to the brightest smiling entity she attended school with. Her best friend was nearly her opposite, constantly concerned with appearances and impressions, but Stella’s nature only increased their friendship. Though Genevieve Cartier was obsessed with how the world perceived her, Stella brought a new wind to her life, a wind that helped strip her of her own invisible masks. They understood each other, despite their mass of differences.

Everyone knew not to question Stella about her mask. It was simply something the girl did. It was her form of expression; some their age wrote out their frustration, some painted or took their anger out in a sport, but Stella wore her mask. It kept her safe. It was her net. When all else failed and the world came closing in, Stella could hide behind her mask. When everyone left her to fend for herself, her mask would protect her from the harshness of reality.

Stella astounded everyone who knew her; she seemed born to knock down the old pillars of belief in beauty. There was nothing special about her, save for her mask, but Stella’s presence seemed to bring about an odd sense of trust. Her masked face and kind voice brought faith to those who had long given up. She was a masked prophet, a teenage girl who could bring those close to despair back from their black prison.

The day Stella Ridley died came all too soon. She’d not yet turned eighteen when she was taken from her parents, her friends, her charges, yet all who’d known her remembered her. Stella Ridley had changed everyone who knew her. She’d given friends new perspective while she’d helped strangers realize that not all was lost. She’d been an angel in times of desperation and a benevolent presence in times of peace. Stella Ridley had been a mystery, but now she was a mystery much missed.

She’d brought hope to those who had forsaken all, and she would be remembered for her forgiving manner, her deep kindness, her soft voice, and her red Venetian mask.