WarMonger widened his eyes in awe at what he had seen around him. Everything looks perfectly different up close. He never thought that he had to look up to see the boats and ships in the jetty. He never thought that bread would smell so good at a close range. He never thought that the people he had observed from above looked so different when seen face to face. He never knew that there were more than just bibles to read out in the open road (obviously he has stumbled upon Max’s favourite haunt). He never knew that there were so many things out here he had never known before. It was like heaven just walking around among the people just like any other regular guy.
Of course, he had to keep himself cloaked and unnoticed. He didn’t want to risk scaring people with his looks for he knew he was ugly—he scared a girl once in church—and most importantly, he didn’t want to be found by his master.
He noticed that the whole town was looking lively and enthusiastic and they were walking about getting ready for a big occasion. He recognized the things they were carrying around the village were mostly coloured flags and balloons and all kinds of festivity stuff meant for the anniversary of the village. Looks like he came down just in time. He could see people shouting out to sell their things at half of the cost and the whole place was full of life and full of hustle and bustle of people. He was really enjoying the preparation for this festive day.
He was so engrossed with his surroundings that he didn’t notice Virginia Deanhart and her butler Norman walking from the opposite direction. He bumped into them and scattered all the groceries the two had bought. His cloak almost fell off but WarMonger immediately cloaked it back.
“Hey, watch where you’re going, boy!” Norman said as he ran around chasing the oranges that rolled out of the shopping bags.
“I’m sorry,” WarMonger replied, pulling his hood closer and lower to his face. “I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“Norman, it was an accident,” Virginia said while turning towards the cowering WarMonger. “You’re scaring the poor boy! You’re not hurt, are you, boy? Here, let me have a look.”
WarMonger was horrified. She was going to remove his hood and let her see his hideous face! What would happen if she does see his face? She might probably scream and her boyfriend would clobber him like a punching bag! Despite WarMonger’s “No! No!” protests, Virginia looked into his hood and saw his face. He was expecting her to scream, but weird enough, she just smiled.
“See? No harm done. I guess he’s alright,” Virginia said sweetly in spite of Norman’s screwed-up face of utter disgust.
WarMonger was quite at lost of words. She didn’t scream or back away in fright at all. She even smiled at him like he was just someone else, an ordinary someone else. And she was so pretty with her golden blonde hair and striking dark-blue eyes, like one of the angels in the stained glass of the cathedral. He had looked over the village from his bell-tower and he was sure that he had never seen anything as beautiful as her. Well, even if he did see her, she was about 10, 15 or maybe 20 feet below him to be seen clearly.
“Just try to be a little more careful, OK?” Virginia’s motherly voice brought him back to reality. Norman was looking at him like he had seen a decomposing corpse or something.
“I…I will. Thank you very much,” WarMonger almost stuttered. He was amazed that she didn’t even shudder at his raspy voice.
“By the way, are you joining in the Horror Face Contest?”
“What?” WarMonger was surprised at Virginia’s question.
Virginia pointed at the sign post a few feet away from where they were standing, just opposite the bakery shop. It bears the banner writing in bold ‘HORROR FACE CONTEST: REGISTER HERE’. She said cheerfully, “It’s our main attraction for tomorrow’s Fishermen’s Friend 25th Anniversary. That is why you’re wearing that great mask, right?”
“Err…yeah. Yeah, that’s right,” WarMonger lied, not knowing what else to say. “I’m opting for the contest and give them a great scare of their life. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll…”
“Let me go with you!” Virginia said enthusiastically, pulling WarMonger’s arm without caring if he wanted it or not. “I’ll help you register; the boy sitting there at the counter is my son’s best friend.”
Despite his kind refusal, Virginia dragged WarMonger all the way towards the counter where Felix and Bea were sitting and taking in contestants. They shrank a little when they saw Mrs. Deanhart coming—they have heard about her locking Max up in his room and not letting him out in case he had any bright ideas going down to the sea—but when they saw her dragging someone short and built along with her, they guessed that she was up to her hospitality moods again.
“Hey there, Mrs. Deanhart,” Bea greeted Virginia. “Who do we have here?”
“This boy here wants to participate in the contest,” Virginia said as she pointed at the cowering WarMonger. “Don’t be shy, boy. Go on and tell him your name.”
“W…WarMonger…” the bell-ringer said timidly and Felix scribbled it down, wrinkling his nose at this weird name.
“Mind if we have a premiere of what you’re going to present for tomorrow’s contest?”
“Show him, WarMonger,” Virginia coaxed. WarMonger hesitated before finally lowering his hood to reveal his face. Everyone present gasped at his appearance, except Virginia who looked more impressed as she continued staring at him. “Now that’s what I call a horror face!”
“Hey, dude,” Felix said with a half-impressed-half-shocked look on his face. “Would you mind taking that mask off so that I can get a closer look? This mask must be the work of an artist.”
“Um…err…I…I can’t…you don’t want to touch me…” WarMonger hesitated, inching his way from the counter but Virginia got him firmly.
“Don’t be silly, WarMonger. It’s just a mask, take it off and let me see how you really look like. You must be handsome beneath that grotesque mask of yours.”
Still, WarMonger shook his head. He wanted to run away before he caused more trouble but Virginia caught him firmly on the face. She pulled and tugged but the ‘mask’ won’t come off. Finally, when she realized that she was hurting the boy, she gasped and let go. Her sudden movement loosened the cloak he was putting on and it slid off his body, showing the rest of his red skin. Everyone else gasped too as they realized what was going on.
“That’s not a mask!” Norman said, quite horrified.
“It’s his face!” Bea joined in, shocked.
“Woah, hideous, man! Funky but hideous!” Felix agreed.
“It’s must the legendary bell-ringer of the cathedral!” someone else exclaimed. “I have got a glance of him before!”
Everyone began to mutter and give rude comments about him. As they were too engrossed in being grossed out by WarMonger’s appearance, they didn’t realize that their mysterious funding man of the village, SkullMaster, was walking around trying to check out the village and see if there were any outsiders to be of good use to him. He saw the crowd and he saw WarMonger cowering and trying to hide his face from them, wanting to look for a way out and back to the cathedral. His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits but he didn’t attempt to get him out of the situation. He just stood there and watched.
“Well, he’s not welcomed even if he has the most horror face in the contest! He’s to win for sure!” one of the men in the crowd yelled. “That’s not fair!”
“Yeah! I want to win! I’ve been waiting all year for this!”
“Get him out of here!”
“He’s scaring the children!”
In the midst of all the shouting and protests, someone flung an egg at the poor bell-ringer. The others followed suite, throwing tomatoes and fruits and other rotten stuff at him. WarMonger soon found himself showered with food of all kinds, and none of them want to let him go until they had satisfied themselves of making him a wretched fool. WarMonger caught a glimpse of his master in the middle of the crowd—he could recognize him even when he is in his long, billowing cloak and dark hood. He yelled out desperately.
“Master! Master, please help me! Master!”
SkullMaster just stood there watching, not wanting to help. He wanted to teach this disobedient boy of his a lesson.
Suddenly, all went quiet. Everyone stopped throwing their food halfway through. SkullMaster was surprised at the sudden silence and craned his neck to watch. In the middle of the crowd, shielding the bell-ringer was Virginia, drenched in sour milk and stained with tomato juice and egg yolks. Everyone was surprised; why did this archaeologist nutter, mother of the most handsome boy in the village, want to help a wretched being from hell like him? She stood up abruptly and yelled at the top of her lungs.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself! How could you mistreat this unfortunate person?! Sure, he may be hideous and he may be a joke, but he’s a human being, just like the rest of us! He just looks different than us, that’s all! Why are you doing this to him? Why aren’t you doing this to the miller’s son who’s a bit retarded or the beggar who had been begging in our village for the last couple of years? Why him? Why now? You care about those people but you are cruel to this being who needed most of our attention! I’m sure this is the first time he’s out in the world and you’re giving him a hard time! If I were to do this to your sons or daughters, how would you feel?! Shame on you all!!”
Everyone put down whatever they were holding timidly and looked away, feeling awkward. They had to admit that Virginia was right—they have been too harsh on WarMonger. Virginia turned slowly towards the red boy and offered him her hanky, whispering, “I’m sorry, boy. This isn’t supposed to happen.”
Soon, the sky darkened and it began to rain, as if it was a cue for everyone to leave and make a way for WarMonger to go back to his cathedral. The rain slowly washed away the dirt off WarMonger. He refused Virginia’s hanky and ran helter-skelter towards the direction of the cathedral. In the midway, he bumped into his master, who was glaring at him with his cold, unkind eyes. He lowered his head in shame and whispered, “I’m sorry, master. I will never disobey you again.”
SkullMaster kept quiet, but made way for the boy to go home where he belonged. WarMonger ran and ran and didn’t stop until he was standing in front of the church’s open door. He slipped into it and closed it quietly, not wanting to alarm the church members that he was out of the bell-tower. He was trained to keep out of sight as much as possible and he did a good job avoiding anyone who came in his way. But as he climbed up the stairs to his beloved bell-tower, he couldn’t avoid the archdeacon. They stared at each other as if they were speaking to each other with their eyes and not their mouth, and they seemed to comprehend each other’s meaning. The archdeacon nodded before letting WarMonger continue his way up the bell-tower.
WarMonger didn’t speak a word for the rest of the day, and Thor was wise not to talk to him until he felt like talking. He did everything in silence until the rain stopped and the moon rose up into the sky before he finally broke down and cried on Thor’s spiky back. It was a terrible day out in the real world and he admitted that his master was right all along.
Things couldn’t get any worse than this.
SkullMaster followed quietly behind as Virginia and Norman made their way home. He hid in an inconspicuous spot as the duo walked into the house which he hadn’t been in for a long, long while. He looked up and saw that Max, Blake’s son, was watching out of the window longingly at the vast sea beyond the jetty. He stood there for a moment or so and smiled an evil smile before he left the premises.
“We finally meet again.”
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