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Masquerade: You receive an invitation to a secret Halloween Masquerade Ball held in an abandoned mansion. Describe the event, the guests, and surprises that await within.
Pulling up to the mansion, Ezra took a deep breath. He had been surprised to receive the invitation. He had heard rumors about the ball two years earlier. As part of his role as an undercover agent, he did his best to keep an eye on the elite, the esoteric, the unusual, and the rumored events of wherever he was. This ball - an annual, invite only, All Hallow Masquerade - was beyond secret. After months of patient listening, studying silences, and reading between the lines, he had found nothing a slight will ‘o the wisp bit of rumor.
Until the invitation arrived by special courier, to his home, precisely as he arrived home.
The venue - an abandoned mansion on the outskirts of town. Built in the 1880’s, it had once been the home of one of Colorado’s ‘gold rush’ barons. The gothic Victorian stood tall against the darkening sky, its straight rooflines and dark metal filigree ironwork hinted at the strong bones and great care of its construction. Under the nebulous moonlight, it held an eerie elegance from the bygone past.
The snow had been plowed to reveal an amazingly intact, dark cobblestone drive. Glimpses of a barren garden were visible through the tall sinister hedge, showing a terrifying graveyard of overgrown roses and other thorny plants that reached for the sky, like pleading, haunted fingers.
A valet appeared the moment Ezra pulled his card to a stop. Silent, fully costumed from head to gloved hand to perfectly polished boots, he could have been a 19th Century footman with the cut and material of his outfit. His visage, however, put the CGI Ezra had ever seen to shame.
Green hair was swept back from a sharp widow’s peak into intricate braids, complete with elaborately carved golden beads. Shaded and shadowed green skin moved flawlessly over sharp, inhuman bones with no visible sign of prosthetics or make-up lines. Yellow irises watched him, unblinking, patient, subtly judging.
Handing the gremlin his keyes, Ezra accepted a thick parchment receipt and headed up the cobblestone path. Like the drive it had been cleared of the recent snow. Although he could not actually see it, he could feel some sort of grit under his boots, giving traction against the frigid night air and potential threat of black ice in the later hours.
On either side of the path, the once ornate garden hinted at garden parties and genteel teas in long ago summers. The remnants of flower beds now appeared as sadly shadowed graves, huddling under a thick, icy blanket of glittering white snow.
The stately entry porch ran along the entirety of the front of the house. It was decorated expressly for the ball. The tall columns bore dark, narrow ribbons - the colors so dark they were almost black, only the smallest hint of the deep purple, blue, and green showing true under the muted lights. Jet black, heavy iron candelabra stood tall and proud, holding real wax candles between each of the columns, their flickering light catching on the long, hanging crystals carefully hung from the porch railings and casting eerie shadows on the snowy grounds. From the tall ceiling of the porch hung fine silver chains which formed an intricate spider web from the railing to the columns. Nestled on the longest strand of chain was a large, bejeweled, clockwork spider that Ezra would have sworn was alive.
A pale woman, dressed in a green silk gown that clung to every perfect curve met him at the door. She smiled at him in true delight as she took in his costume, her blood red lips a perfect, glistening bow. She offered him a slim, graceful hand as she purred, “Oh cousin Ezra, we are so very happy to see you. We have missed you so.”
He accepted her hand, noting that it was amazingly warm for all that it was so pale. “I was delighted to receive the invitation,” Ezra drawled, his accent thickening without conscious thought. He had not heard anything on the family grapevine about a change in venue, but then again, he was not so very surprised.
She reached out and tapped his silk jacket, smoothing the black sash. “We do so approve of your choice,” she added, acknowledging his choice in costume. “Gomez, will of course, wish to duel.”
“But of course,” he replied, lifting her hand to his lips. “Two swordsmen at a masquerade implies a duel, especially when it is hosted by an enchantress such as yourself.”
“I do believe we will enjoy this town,” she added. “It is so very delightfully dark. The family has been so put out without the sheer chaos you bring our days.”