This went waaaay off where I was going with it at the start. I fancied a romantic meeting at a masked ball. Fate took a hand. And well, she had other ideas.
Fate had planned their meeting,
How they laughed as they arrived,
Collected motley strangers,
Unsuspecting aught contrived.
Bedecked in costumed finery,
Masks upon their eyes,
Ambience electric
As all hid behind their lies,
Flattered to be asked there,
Dressed one and all as spies,
Agents, Mata Haris,
Sleuths renowned as wise,
Yet none detected counterfeit
In ticketed surprise,
Flirted, danced, now targets,
Fate held them compromised.
Twirling as they partied
They missed their own demise,
Revealed, at last, behind each mask,
Dead already in their lives.
Spied parties to eternity,
No one hears their cries,
Double lives no more concealed,
Fate held mask’d surprise.
I mean, wtf! I wanted romance, I got death. Bloody charming. I might give the romantic version another bash. What can I say? I like the idea of masked encounters.
Fate can bugger off.
If you fancy a bash at writing something based on masks, I’d be delighted if you link in comments so I can visit and read what fate does to your version. Or perhaps you have more control over her than I do. (Shh! Don’t tell her I said that. She’s soooo contrary.)
scottishmomus 