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Hello all,

I’m back 🙂

I wrote this a couple weeks ago and would love to get it critiqued!  Basically the things I want to know are: Does the present tense fit, or is it too clunky? and Could it be made into a novel or is it better as a short story?

But all other suggestions/comments are gratefully welcomed. 🙂

 

I glance from side to side before crossing the street.  The only ones out this late are the drunks and the Peace Protectors, and I don’t want to meet either right now.  I wrap my black sweatshirt closer against my skin, trying to keep the warmth in.  I walk hunched over, hood covering my mask in case anyone is looking out their windows.

I head to the inner city, where the buildings suffocate the sky and the pavement hides any bit of green.  Though gangs rule the streets, I don’t fear.  We have an understanding.  We both have a disregard for the law, in different ways.

I slip into a dilapidated warehouse.  A few homeless people lay on the ground, their masks still on their sleeping faces.  I tiptoe around them, walking to the the stairs at the other end.  I climb them, skipping over the missing steps.

Technically the upstairs of the warehouse is unsafe.  The homeless don’t even go there, and government officials have placed a hefty fine for people trespassing there.  So it’s completely safe for me.  The homeless don’t rat me out– here, snitches end up in ditches.

“Hey, Raven.”

I tip my head at Ace.  He’s stretched out in a chair with stuffing coming out of it.  He’s my runner and the only other person who knows about the hideout.  “Not dead yet, I see.”

He smirks.  “I’m good like that.  I don’t get caught.”

“One of these stays you’re going to get cockier than you already are, and you’re going to bring me down with you.”

“Impossible.  I’m as cocky as they get already.”

I sigh.  I check that all the windows are shut, then remove my mask.  Ace has already removed his, but I prefer to be safe.  The air is freezing on my face, but I’m not putting the mask back on.

“What are you doing today?”

“Self portrait.”

He gawks at me.

I shake my head.  “That’s what you would do.  If anyone sees my face on a drawing, I’m dead.”

He chuckles.  “I thought I was rubbing off on you.”

“No chance,” I say, pulling out my pencils from a hole in the drywall.  I sit at my desk, which is really a piece of chipboard held up by two sawhorses.  I begin to sketch a light outline of a person.

“So, if not your handsome self, who are you painting?”

“Today’s illegal artwork is inspired by the cashier at the market,” I say grandly.  “Only this time–mask-less.”

Ace claps.  “The eager crowd watches the master draw with sweeping pencil strokes and gentle detail.  They are immersed in his every movement.  No such talent has ever been witnessed before!”

I smile slightly, but I’m not paying attention.  I’m sketching Ms. Garcia’s face.  Or at least, what I imagine her face to look like.  Her hair is black.  Sometimes a strand slips out from under her headscarf, even though she’s careful to keep it back.  I draw thick wavy black hair curling around an oval face.  Her face is kind, matching her voice.  She has smooth brown skin and a sloping nose.  I add gold earrings for fun.

Once I’m done with the sketch, I start to paint.  The pigment has separated from the oil in some tubes, but I mix it well.  I put color and life into the flat sketch.  I add golden highlights and slightly brown lips.

When I’m done, it’s not the masked Ms. Garcia.  It has life and spirit.  No one would know it was her, but it somehow fits her.

I add some red splashes to the background and set it aside to dry.  I crack my knuckles, and lay down on the dirty floor.

“It’s–it’s her.”

I smile.  “You think so too?”

“Who else could it be?”

“Hopefully no one else can see it.  Don’t want to hurt her.”

“No, but it’s good, Raven.”

“What time is it now?”

Ace checks his watch.  “2 a.m.”

“Wow.  It’s later than I thought.  I guess I got immersed in it.”

“I’ll get the prints made, and they’ll start appearing all around the city.”

“You’re stupid, but you know to get it done.”

“That’s me.”

“I need to sleep.  See you in a few days?”  I say, donning the mask again.

“Yep.  Goodnight.”

I walk back to my house.  It’s small, but it’s out of the bad parts of the city.  I enter the house silently, careful not to wake my mom, and fall asleep with my clothes still on.
<p style=”text-align: center;”>***</p>
In the morning, I feel like death.  I force myself out of bed at six and to breakfast.

My mother sets a cup of coffee in front of me, and I gulp it down.  It sears my throat, but the pain helps wake me up.  At least, that’s what I tell myself.

“Are you okay?  You haven’t been acting normal.”

“I know I look awful, but I’m just tired.  I’m fine, mom.”

She purses her lips together, but says nothing.  Well, I imagine that’s what she’s doing.  The masks cover every expression in addition to physical features such as skin color.

I finish eating, and I get money from my mom to buy the groceries.  I go directly to Ms. Garcia’s store.  It’s still closed, so I wait outside.  It should open in a few minutes.  I lean against the wall.  Inside I hear crying.  I tense.  I wonder if I should go help.  After debating with myself for a few minutes, I knock.

The crying stops.  Footsteps approach, and the door opens.  Ms. Garcia clutches the print of my painting against her chest.  I see her face.  Not masked this time.  Her real face.

She is in public.

Without her mask.

“Ms. Garcia,” I say urgently, “You need to go inside and put your mask on.”

“No, Raven.  I’m not a mask.  I’m a human.”  Tears are sliding down her cheeks.  “This–” she shoves my art into my face, “this is me.”

“They’ll arrest you.  They’ll take you away.”

“Let them.  We need a change, and if I have to sacrifice myself, so be it.  Bless the person who made this.”

My heart softens.  “Good luck.”

People are starting to stop.  Someone pulls out a phone and starts pressing buttons.  It istime to go.  I turn and disappear into the gawking crowd.  I round the corner and run into Ace.

“Ms. Garcia–” I start.

“I know.”

“Are we doing the right thing?”

Ace sighs and stares at the masked people walking towards Ms. Garcia.  A siren starts in the distance and it gradually grows louder.  Peace Protectors jump out of the car and run toward Ms. Garcia.  They slap a temporary mask over her face and force her into the car.

“I hope so.”