The Mask

Their father had always told them never to enter the icehouse.

"It's dangerous in there," he'd say, whenever they asked. "The floor is weak and you could fall through, and plus, the bees have taken over. We don't mess with the bees, right?"

Each time, they'd pout about it but begrudgingly agree and would head off to play with something else. Young kids are easy to distract.

But time marches on, and the curiosity of teenagers isn't quite as easy to interrupt.

They could always hear the buzzing of course when close to the icehouse. A droning hum like a thousand bees... But there were never any bees actually outside of the old icehouse.

Once they realized that... Well, of course it became a mystery that consumed them. The icehouse had a single window in the west wall of the shack but it was so old and covered with grime that it was impossible to see through. Occasionally on a bright day they could sometimes get the hint of motion through its old panes.

The day their father left for the weekend to attend a market in the city, he reminded them to take care of the house, feed the dogs, and... Above all else... Stay away from the icehouse.

It took them three hours after he'd driven down the old dirt road to find the key to the heavy lock on the door. It took another hour and a half to talk themselves into being brave enough to try the key.

The click of the lock was barely audible over the droning hum of bees.

As they pulled the lock out of the latch, however, the droning immediately stopped. The change was so sudden and so surprising that it causes them to freeze for a second, before gathering their courage again and throwing open the icehouse door.

Inside stood their mother, one of their uncles, and a child they didn't recognize. Mouths hung open from palid faces, dead eyes staring blankly at them. They recoiled in shock, but then noticed the mask.

It was tucked into the far corner of the icehouse, partly overgrown with an ancient nest of some kind. Once spotted, it was impossible to resist. It called to them, pulled them forward, and though in the back of their mind they were screaming... They watched themselves reach out to touch it.

Two days later, their father returned. He knew what he'd find. A wide open icehouse, with three occupants dutifully tending to the expanded hive. He wept softly, as he slowly shut the door, put the latch back into place, and locked it.

In his mind, the mask hummed contentedly. He knew in a few years the droning would start again and when he next oepend the door there would be even more dead faces he loved staring back at him, hosts to the things in the hive... but for now... For now there was silence and contentment.

He reached down to pet his dog. "Well ol' girl... Guess we need to make some more friends."

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