Elijah stands entrapped in a blank white room the size of a mansion living room, perfectly square and with an empty floor and ceiling. The front wall, though blank, seems to stare menacingly before him. In square inlets in the right wall hang various masks, lining the walls like guards to a great castle. The first mask is made of bold grey stone and stares out blankly, eyes droopy and mouth unhinged. The second is by far the most alluring, its polish glistening under a warm pink light. It smiles beautifully, and its eyeholes are hugged by soft grey paint. The third mask is an easy yellow like the morning sun far across the ocean. It smiles less widely than the pink mask, but its expression feels real and alarmingly pleasant. The fourth mask seems to have been caught mid-cry, adorned by bumps jutting out like tears streaming down its ocean-blue surface, amassing into an ugly pool that protrudes sloppily from the chin of the mask like the brim of an old hat.
The left wall is blank but for a small window with a view out into the dark eclipse outside. Elijah walks to the right side of the room to examine the masks closer.
lyrics
[Elijah]
White room, blank heart.
Things come along, things fall apart.
Standing so tall, four masks on a wall,
Stare into space, like dolls.
Pink mask is smiling, inviting me in.
Grey-brimmed eyeholes, sucking my skin.
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