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~The Blackheart Masquerade 2020 ~ Closed


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Black Masquerade

Dorothy skipped into The Devil's with Toto nipping at her ruby slippers.  Her outfit was was a white short sleeved blouse with blue stitching around the neck and on the short half sleeves.  A blue and wlite gingham pinafore made part of her costume.  On her little feet were baby blue ankle socks in a pair of ruby slippers.   Her hair was plaited into two braids tied off with matching baby blue ribbons.

Her eyes twinkled as she danced past the bouncer in her ruby slippers.  "I have a pass.  I will be a good girl!"   The bouncer scratched his balding head with his big hand and he ushered her to the drinks.  

A little black dog with long silky hair and small black eyes that twinkled merrily on either side of his funny, wee nose.    He trottted in the room behind Dorothy  as she handed the bouncer her pass.   Toto sat on the ground beside Dorothy.  His little beady glanced around the large room.   If he could say which he couldn't so he waited for the man to escort him and Dorothy to food and water for both of them.   "There you are Toto!  Mr Bouncer will grab you a  bowl of water and some food!"   Dorothy looked up at the bouncer with her pleading eyes.   The bouncer was charmed  as he barked out an order for a bowl of cold water and some plain steak bites for Toto.
He barked out an order for a Shirley Temple (no alcohol) with an extra cherry for her.    She slipped the bouncer a few dollars.  "Thank you very much, sir."     The bouncer noticed the Tin Man as she picked out Fungeon Fudge Brownies and the Steak Frites."   The bouncer grabbed the plate for Dorothy in one hand and her drink in another.  It was amended to Death Punch instead of a Shirley Temple.     "Okay Dorothy,  Tin Man I assume is your father?   Father and daughter set?"     He ushered the little girl and her dog to the Tin Man's table.    

"Here's your kid, Mister.  The dog's food and water will be here shortly.   I assume you both will be on your best behaviors."


Raffle Ticket #10
October 18, 2020 09:31 pm

Black Masquerade


It was time to meet the people of the realm. The one time of year where all got together with difference aside.
Putting the finishing touches on. She made sure her pants had the right length and bubble, the ruffles were exactly how they needed to be and the big red pompoms in a nice row down her shirt. The face paint exactly how it should be from each end of her lips going up past her eyes.

The last thing she took were her red balloons. Skipping along with a creepy smile past the bouncers and into the room her eyes looked around at the party guest that had already arrived. Pennywise found a friend or so she hoped skipping over to the mime.

Raffle Ticket #11
October 19, 2020 01:59 am

Black Masquerade

-:The Grim Reaper:-

He wondered around flipping his hour glass every hour like he was keeping time. He wondered what the night would become or the day who knew anymore. He kept his eyes open to all the costumes and smiled at those who looked at him. He wondered if he was even doing the right thing by be here. his costume seemed to fit his frame just right but then was it really a costume to him or an expression of how he felt these days.
October 19, 2020 10:07 am

Black Masquerade

The High Priestess

The High Priestess kicked back 4 zombie shots then looked around the venue, taking in the newcomer’s costumes and letting her eyes move over everyone in attendance thus far. She smiled to herself, also giving a soft sigh. She wasn’t normally one for mingling with people. She was a loner by nature, but for this night, she decided she would put forth some real effort.

Stepping down from her barstool, she took her staff up in her hand, determined to make a little round of the room.

She looked first to the Reaper. Stepping to him, as he wasn’t far from her own seat, she nodded her head to him, tipping her feathered top hat a bit. “Love the costume…” she said as she slid by him. She didn’t want to seem as she was imposing, as his body language appeared to be a little constrained. Was he uncomfortable? She decided she would come back to him for a bit of conversation as she then tipped her hat to what seemed to be Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde…maybe. She was unsure. These costumes, they were all just so wonderful.

Turning, she strode over to the Tin Man and Dorothy. She looked at Dorothy and her little dog after clunking her staff off the Tin Mans armor with a chuckle. “Y’all look amazing. Dorothy, I just want to pinch your lil cheeks…but Toto may bite me…” She snickered. “Have a good time tonight…come sit with me later if you’d like!” She invited.

She moved again, passing Medusa. She shivered. Alla snakes! Sure, fake?, but still...Maybe not. She gave the woman a wink and a smile. Danger Noodles. *shivers*

Walking a little fast past the idea of alla snakes The High Priestess found herself nearly toppling over a Ghost. She blinked, adjusting her top hat. “Oh, I’m so sorry Ghostie!” She snickered out. Spinning a bit to avoid becoming tangled in the ghosts’ cloaks and robes, she spotted Wednesday Addams slipping something into the punch bowl. Mental note was made to not drink the punch and stick to the zombie shooters.

Next she moved to greet the Plague Doctor. “You look fabulous, Her Doktor…” She said in a phony German accent. She really liked the idea of the Doctor, especially in light of 2020 thus far.

Her eyes landed on Pennywise and her eyes widened and brightened. The mime the female ‘IT’ was sharing space with was adorable, and The High Priestess couldn’t resist herself. She moved to Pennywise, smiling and nodded to both ladies.

“Pennywise! Huge fan! Do you have a lovely red balloon to spare?” She asked, her voice hopeful.

October 19, 2020 10:45 am

Black Masquerade

The Mime

It would seem that during her search for a new friend that one had found her.

Blue hues stared at the clown as it approached. A look of mock terror spread across her face and she feigned distress throwing her head and her arm back like a damsel in distress. She turned in an attempt to make a stationary escape. The bag she was carrying acted as an imaginary weight that held her back. She sank deeper and deeper as it dragged her back.

She then turned hands pressed together as though begging the cannibalistic clown not to eat her like she had Georgie. Of course mime's do not talk so she simply conveyed these words through actions. Then she threw herself down dramatically at the clown's feet, silent sobs as she begged for her mime life.

Then suddenly as it began the act was over. She bounced up to her feet in one movement. The Mime made a big deal of fluffing her deflated skirt back up, making sure it was just as flouncy as ever. She took a bow to the applause that didn't exist. Then she gestured towards Pennywise and began clapping and gesturing the audience (or other party goers) to do the same. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a fake daisy and held it out to Pennywise, a thank you for her help with this act.

Then she noticed the High Priestess approaching. Unsure how a mime should address a priestess she made a deep, sweeping bow. She was sure to put extra emphasis on the deepness. She reached into her pocket and another silk daisy appeared, this one she tossed lightly to the high priestess. Now she would let the them confer about red balloons.

A passing server was immediately subject to the flailing of the mime's arms as she sought his attention! She gestured to herself and then the two near her and put her hand up towards her mouth as though she was drinking from a cup. Her request was clear. He looked at her as though she was the strangest person he'd ever met and that might be true. Still he started listing off the available drinks and when he reached the one she wanted the mime began to jump up and down with glee. A Velvet Hammer it would be.
October 19, 2020 03:18 pm

Black Masquerade

Grady Twin One

Dressed in a blue dress, the white ribbon encircling her waist, the tiny woman would tap her patent leather Mary Jane impatiently waiting for the bouncers to finish up with her and her sister; this was going to be a fun night. While she didn’t usually get out much and certainly didn’t speak to others except when she was on the hunt; tonight had transformed her into one of the famously known twins that certainly spooked an entire generation.

Or so she had been told.

The chance to play dress-up and maybe get some more candy; well, no one had to tell her twice, she was game for a party, especially one that seemed to coincide with this holiday she had become enamored with.

If they could creep some people out with their simultaneous speaking; more the better.

In fact, she wanted to try it now, the bouncer wasn’t that scary.

Guileless oceanic orbs turned toward the guardian of the portal; still unsure of herself, her fingers raked over side-parted hair held with a small barrette, but with a deep breath to steady and a moment to wait on her twin, the words finally would creepily come from parted lips.

“Come and play with us.”

Raffle Ticket #12

October 19, 2020 03:21 pm

Black Masquerade

Grady Twin Two

Are you seeing double? Yes, yes you are. But you’ve probably already had too much to drink too. Twin Two wore an identical outfit to Twin One. Everything was exactly the same, right down to the way she parted her hair and the barrette that parted it. She remembered the movie where these two came from well from a night as a child...Sometimes, humans were a lot more twisted than the supernatural.

As the bouncer made sure they didn’t have any real weapons, she had her head tilted, almost uncomfortably, to the left, watching intently. After catching her sister taking a deep breath, she snapped her head back up to look forward and grinned, though the grin didn’t quite reach her eyes. She laced her fingers between her sister’s and with a blank stare, spoke as she did.

Come play with us...

The bouncer stared at the two for a moment before nodding them through.

Twin Two pouted at him, but what can you expect from a demon that guards a room Lucifer made.

Let’s go! Maybe the patrons will be easier to scare.

She dragged Twin One into the main room, ready for some drinks, dancing and hopefully creeping people out. Drinks first. She grabbed a menu and rushed them to the bar. “Zombie Slime Shooters please!” Yes, she was old enough to drink! “What about you Twinny?

Raffle Ticket #13
October 19, 2020 03:24 pm

Black Masquerade

Oya; the Orisha.

Santería had many Orisha that were worshipped; but Oya would fit her just perfectly.

The Cubano woman nearly had a change of heart, but she wanted to get out and meet new people, and with a mask guarding her features, her very identity; she couldn’t turn away from the anonymity of it all. Not when she could people watch from behind the copper and maroon domino partially hiding her face from the world; the costume itself was quite simple, borderline plain, but to represent the Orisha that rules the dead, the one that is associated with cemeteries and ancestors, there need not be an extravagance to behold.

Simple is best.

Robed in the same reddish-purple as her mask, the only noted embellishments on the cloth being the coppery shimmer of flames that danced in the lowered lights of the establishment as feet kicked the hem as she moved about, between people and to the bar.

The lights would glint off the copper twist of metal adorning her brow; the crown with nine points representing Oya as the warrior that she is; but it didn’t mean that the Orisha couldn’t partake in the party or even have a bit of fun going incognito during this night of festivities.

Quietly making her way to the bar, she’d order a drink with an accent as colorful as the ancestors she would be representing through her artistry in her costume and while she sipped on her beverage, she’d just watch the crowd for now.

Raffle Ticket #14
October 19, 2020 03:39 pm

Black Masquerade

The Ghost

As more people arrived, he couldn't help but admire some of the other costumes, especially Medusa and Dr. Jekyll/Mrs Hyde. Unfortunately, he blended in with the fog and the High Priestess nearly bowled him over. In response to her apology, he let out a moan and rattled his chain at her.

October 19, 2020 06:50 pm

Black Masquerade


It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Don't scream. You mustn't ruin the pretty party.

She glances around the room. It's all wrong, you see. The mesmerizing lights are full and pulsing, the spikes from ceiling to floor pierce hearts, skewered bits of meat dripping blood onto the dancefloor, flooding the senses and adding more grit to wade through. The mangled, commingling of shadows in the dark corners or swirling in pairs, circling like vultures, to sweep about her in a slow frenzy. Everything is paced in an agonizingly sedated manner, time disjointed for her, dislocated from where it should be. Her own movements overstrung with tension and swift, willowy frame trembling to contain the volant convulsions of her reactions to the space and beings around her.

They are all blank, so very empty. Puppetry being pulled by unseen strings dangling from the ceilings as a cosmic joke, the comic display of all those that the fates control. Or the gods. Or some unnamed puppetmaster who keeps greedy gaze on the masquerade.
And all those hiding behind the lie of fake faces. There is a scattered array of gleaming eyes down here too, in the dreary gloom gathering, lit with avarice and indulgence. Eyes that only she can see. Those optic orbs glowing through tenebrous faces that have no other definition to them except the gash of white teeth set crookedly into the smudged bodies. Like bugs on a windshield or the shadow of a finger in a photograph taken by an amateur, they are smeared together in her vision. So much paint muddied on a canvas.

A statue grows of her, sets her in stone in the center of the room, directly beneath the bloodied glow of what might be seen as crystalline and warming. She breathes deep, the revelry, the giddy atmosphere that is lost on her in all ways but one. The low hum of activity, the corrosive eyes that find one another in the mass of gray mist. The lyrebirds and those lying in wait, she listens to their whispers and their silences and in turn allows the quietus to conform itself to her in stillness while she too waits. It clings to her skin, ripe with carnage still steaming in the brumal night.

The music is inharmonious to her ears, jangling notes crawling up her creaking spine as she stretches, trying to ease the weight of their tension. Neck cracking in a series of clicks, twisting at an unnatural angle, broken. Voices are muffled, laughter abrupt and long lasting. Sounds, all, that pull at the threadbare strings of her sanity and begin stripping away pieces. They rise to the vaulted ceiling with the bloody lava-filled lights and the darker wisps of decadence and disaster hunting from above between the sharp, jutting rock. Ready to have their cages open, to descend and devour them all. To slide inside the skin with razor teeth and red-wet claws and tear them open. Herself included.

All this is merely a prelude.

What comes before the beginning.

Her head turns, staring daggers over a shoulder, chin brushing stained skin. There are eyes looking. Her gaze meets the stinging glint of an observer in the shadows. One. And then two. And then three sets of disconcertingly glowing eyes. A watcher's momentary watching. She turns away again, shifting her body, bending the spine to find relief from the weight of those stares. It doesn't matter if they're seeing. Or dancing. Or laughing. Or screaming. Only that they are here. Now. In this moment.

The one that will play harbinger for the finale.

October 19, 2020 08:59 pm

Black Masquerade

Dr. Jekyll/Mrs. Hyde

Dr. Jekyll/Mrs. Hyde was leaning up against the bar, a little out of boredom. At this vantage point, she could also see all the newcomers walking through the door. There were a lot of great costumes tonight. A silly mime, a beautifully terrifying medusa whose movements made her question what exactly she was doing.. the wiggling, jerking, and twitching as she moved.. the blood that followed in her movements. A Silver and possibly squeaky, if not for the oil can, a tin man entered soon after. Somehow able to keep his ax maybe it’s a prop. He ordered something nonalcoholic, a good choice. Then, She walked in. Dressed in something absolutely stunning. The tattoos suited her.. even if they were fake. What was she though? Something voodoo ish she could tell that much from the braids and the makeup gave it a little New Orleans style panache. Oh! maybe some sort of priestess. Either way Dr. Jekyll/Mrs. Hyde liked!

Then Dorothy! How perfect tin man and Dorothy

And perfectly horrific pennywise made its way over to the mime, skipping in the same silly sense the mime once did.

The Priestess was making rounds. She tipped her hat.

The mime was a curious creature, funny even.

The party was starting to fill with so many people that it became hard to even pay attention to them all.

Dr. Jekyll was still out for now. Behaving as she promised the bouncer. Her feelings toward the costume one were not just to be a little promiscuous and sexy, but It was perfect for her feelings as of late. She never really knew which side of her was going to show at any given time. Her friendly, soft side that would cry at sappy movie points. Or the side of her that could easily rip a throat out with her teeth. The thought soothed her. Standing as an observer now. She ordered another drink, this time a Blackheart Martini.

October 19, 2020 09:07 pm

Black Masquerade

The Hostess

The Hostess grabs a microphone from behind the bar and turns it on to address the current Masquerade goers.

"Hello everyone!" The music quiets down slightly so her voice can be heard, "There's so many of you already that I will be running one of the first raffles very shortly!

"I just wanted to take a moment to welcome everyone and wish you all a fun Masquerade and give everyone a refresher on what's going on!"

She pointed to the bar, with multiple bartenders ready and waiting, "First and foremost, our wonderful bartender staff can whip up anything you like! We have special drinks and treats as listed on the menus, but if those don't tickle your fancy, you're free to order just about anything else you can imagine.

"Second, please remember that all grievances and prejudices are to be left outside. There will be no violence among patrons or you will be removed immediately.

"And of course, No magic or real weapons that can do damage.

"As always, please come see me if you have any questions or concerns."

The Hostess turned off the microphone and continued to welcome new guests and assign them a raffle number.
October 19, 2020 11:15 pm

Black Masquerade

The High Priestess

The High Priestess was still staring at Pennywise when her attention swayed to the door once again. The Grady Twins? She squeaked a little and tried to move Pennywises attention to the Twins. “its Stephen King night!!” She quipped.

Again her attention was pulled when The Hostess took the stage. The High Priestess listened happily, having forgotten all about the fact she had asked ‘IT’ for a balloon.

“Excuse me, ladies…” She said to Pennywise and the Mime, bowing with a sweep of her top hat. “I think it’s time to refresh myself with some alcohol, and maybe some snacks. Feel free to join me if you’d like.”

She moved off, returning to the bar. She ordered up more zombie slime shooters and eyed the snack menu. She was feeling peckish, but worried about her black and white skull face paints smearing. Coming to a decision, she nixed the idea of food and stuck with the alcohol. She would probably be shitfaced by nights end.

Downing two shots, she turned her back to the bar and looked over the venue again. Everyone looked great, however, they didn’t all look happy. She knew the feeling as hazel eyes moved to the door again. It was only a momentary lapse before she shook herself from those thoughts and feelings.

She lived for the Masquerade every year. Well, this time of year, period. She loved October. The weather, the horror movies and the shorter days.

The music raised back up when The Hostess left the stage, and with it, The High Priestess found one of her bare feet tapping against the floor. Again, eyes moved over to the entrance and she let out a sigh before kicking back two more shots. She would not allow this to ruin her night. Perhaps she would grow a pair and be forward enough to ask someone to dance? If it were not for the extensive face paint, everyone would have seen the deep crimson stain of a blush on her face. She didn’t have it in her to be so forward. Maybe after more alcohol?

October 19, 2020 11:50 pm

Black Masquerade

The Lady in Lavender ~ A Blossoming Spring

She stands at the door awaiting entry as the bouncer confirms she has arrived weaponless. She gives a respectful nod of her head to the Hostess as the fog from the main room spills out around them. She is ready to enter and for the festivities of the night to begin.

Her dress is the softest of lilac in color. The bodice embossed with small flower petals weaving intricate patterns. The skirt drapes in a gauzy cascade of shimmering translucent flowing behind her like a waterfall. Auburn tresses are coiffed meticulously, accentuated with fragrant flowers and baby’s-breath and topped with a gold tiara speckled in gossamer wings. Around her neck, a chain of daisies interlace together to form a tight fitting choker. Soft hints of pastel glow from her high cheekbones and her smile is colored a rose-like hue. The eye-mask she wears is spun from gold and encrusted in a rainbow of budding blossoms and gems. Two small horns peek out from under her auburn waves, reminiscent of a new lamb’s soft bumps. Narrow streams of colorful ribbon and peacock feathers wave gently from her temples.

Light reflects from her orbs as they peer out at the nicely appointed decor. The staff has clearly spared no expense and the ambiance is an ideal setting for the celebration. The soft sound of bird song follows her with each dainty step taken in her matching lilac toned heels. Her pink manicured toes wiggle in delight as she comes to the drink table and ladles punch. Lips curl upward in a soft smile to see the ice slowly melt in her cup, just as the frozen liquid breaks across the meadows when she first awakens in the dawn of March.

Cup in hand, she makes her way to one of the larger tables in back, nodding and smiling pleasantly at the patrons already enjoying their evening as she passes. The location she chose offers the perfect vantage point to observe the entry, buffet/bar and the dance floor - which currently remains empty. She is confident that will change as the night progresses and the martinis flow. She notices the music is peppered with occasional screams adding to the charm of the setting, and she perches on a stool as butterflies still on her bare shoulders.

Raffle Ticket #15

October 20, 2020 01:44 am

Black Masquerade

The King in Yellow ~ A Scorched Summer

"The gate below opened and shut, and I crept shaking to my door and bolted it, but I knew no bolts, no locks, could keep that creature out who was coming for the Yellow Sign. And now I heard him moving very softly along the hall. Now he was at the door, and the bolts rotted at his touch. Now he had entered. With eyes starting from my head I peered into the darkness, but when he came into the room I did not see him. It was only when I felt him envelope me in his cold soft grasp that I cried out and struggled with deadly fury, but my hands were useless... I knew that the King in Yellow had opened his tattered mantle and there was only God to cry to now."
~Excerpt from The Yellow Sign.

An eerie hush had settled upon the room like a suffocating blanket, unnerving and disquieting. Time had stilled, and the air trembled with the smell of an ancient rot. An unnatural, putrid malodour not of this world, but of cosmic decay. If eternal dread and abysmal sorrow had a scent. The noxious fumes a precursor to the plague. The door opened and the sudden rise in heat was palpable. A violent zephyr of dry, acrid summer spreading through the room like a wildfire kissed by the law of entropy. Heart racing and sweat beading upon their brows, they would taste the singe of disorder.

Quiet steps carried the mysterious entity forward, barely visible at first in the hazy darkness of the nebulous entrance, though just enough to pique the curiosity and raise anxiety - like a lantern gently floating through a misty moor. Shifting between the columns of penumbral darkness, the falcon head mask of Ra, the sun god, stretched into what would appear to be a pair of ripped goat horns, was caught in the psychedelic glow of faint light, before vanishing under the hood and shadows again. The mask was a blessing, a courtesy offered, for to reveal that face of horrors to humanity would ensue bedlam and insanity upon the feeble mortal minds. Behind the mask, inhuman eyes shone with barbaric gleam in a suppurating, festering sea of stubby maggot-like mouths; liquescent flesh, tumorous and gelid, constantly floating and reforming the facial decay.

But, as the being finally stepped into the light, it would not be the mask, but the enormous hooded mantle that would draw the attention. That sickly yellow fabric made of cephalopod skin, seemed to wriggle and shift and move with his every movement. It draped over the masked head and cascaded down his form in rivulets, like the virulent rays of the haloed sun. The thick, fleshy robe extended beyond his feet and stretched out along the floor, parting and sprouting into numerous, wriggling tentacles. Tiny, pulsating sacs of primordial ooze lined the sticky appendages as they uncoiled and winnowed in search of curious prey who ventured to step too close; scorching and searing the floor as if they weren't tentacles at all. They were spreading cracks, veins, fissures, rents of incinerating heat expanding from a void, a gap of pure blackness. A negative sunrise of amber radiation that would deluge and obliterate everything. A Lovecraftian nightmare born in the bowels of cosmic horror, given form in flesh.

It is brimstone and inferno that feed his greedily devouring gait. This tyrannical summer god that rules in the pit of our despair, the worshipped enigma by the starving dark corner of our heart that craves self-annihilation - Immolation of the self in mystic contemplation of or union with a God.

The black hole stare would follow the path of Spring Blossoms, setting his rot upon the season in bloom. In the Saharan desert winds, all beauty and life will burn to dust, eventually. With a vehement heat of abhorrence, he came to stand beside the Lady in Lavender, overlooking the crowd. In his gaze bent the multitude of wanton whims he would gratefully destroy; the slow, torturous disintegration of their sacrilegious bout, carnivorously driven to and through the heart of his malicious desires.

So, tell me, have you seen the yellow sign?

Raffle Ticket #16
October 20, 2020 01:45 am
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