Consequential Mockery

Consequential Mockery

I can’t describe the sense of euphoria that overwhelmed me at that very moment.
Spinning wildly like a chaotic whirling-dervish. Faces, coming wildly into focus, just as quickly dissolving, smiling, laughing. The room echoing with shouts of jubilation and optimism at the dawning of a brand new year. For the first time I was with people who truly loved and accepted me, for what and who, I truly am. I no longer felt the need to hide who and what I was. That night, my deformity no longer felt like a curse.
With certainty I knew that that moment would be the turning point for me. The moment, I’d been longing for my entire life. I wanted to reach out, shake them all by the hand, hold and embrace them. Drink in the whole atmosphere radiating in that room.
Then it happened.

Only one, at first. Then more started to stop and stare. I could just about make them out as I carried on my manic twirling, arms flailing, heart pumping. Heart slowing slightly, then rapidly picking up its pace, competing with the underlying beat of the music now pounding in my head.

The faces, once smiling and laughing, now, elongated, stretched and deformed, like a horrific blended contortion of the works of Picasso and Bosch combined to make a nightmarish portrayal of Hell. I felt hatred and recognition for those faces. It was what I had seen staring back at me in the mirror for all of my loathsome existence.

My spinning slowly ebbed, as did the moment of euphoric acceptance. The laughter now turning to gasps of shock and disgust. Looking at the banner over the DJ’s booth, “New Years Eve Fancy Dress Ball”, they had obviously thought I had come to the occasion wearing a belated Halloween costume, slowly realising that, I myself, was the costume.

People turned away, unable to gaze upon the freak. More now stared. From
nowhere, a drink was thrown, my eyes stinging, rooted to the spot, out of shock and fear, the laughter began. Not the laughter that I had felt earlier that night, but the mocking laughter of a mob, goading one-another, pushing and taunting.

I found myself fighting to free myself from my tormentors, pushing, pulling forcing myself through, leaving behind a wake of, some hostile some shocked, reveller’s. More projectiles aimed in my direction.
Finally, making it out into the cold night air.

Back inside, the crowd went back to their party, having obviously have had their fun, losing their bloodlust.

But, not I.

I can’t remember how many died in the fire that night. But, as I stood and watched them being brought out, I smiled with recognition at the faces -like mine- before me.