Howl's Moving Castle Fan Fiction ❯ Flawless Mask ❯ Flawless Mask ( Chapter 1 )

 

 

Just saw Miyazaki's “Howl's Moving Castle” and was supremely impressed with each and every part of it. Miyazaki is to be commended; he makes the only films animated or otherwise I just SMILE when I watch. He awakens old dreams and inspires my heart. He may not be the best influence for me, but I adore his films. They make me feel like a child in the best of ways.

 

Got the spelling for names right as I imagine, but if things seem out of sequence, I was going on a lot of thought jumble to write for Howl. Excuse the mess.

 

Disclaimer: Penpaninu does not own Howl's moving castle. I'm not the talented and rich Miyazaki, nor the imaginative Dianne Wynne Jones. We all have castles to move however.

 

“Flawless Mask”

by penpaninu

 

 

I stumble into the portal door to my castle, trudging up the stairs. My ragtag family is abed and the castle is silent as I collapse into a chair before the hearth. The small fire with a face grinned at me then turned serious. I leaned back, my head on the top of the chair's high back, my long legs stretched before the fire demon. My hair cascaded into midair.

 

“Howl? What are you doing? You haven't changed back yet!” Calcifer called out in his singsong way. He tried to keep quiet for Sophie's sake. Markl, we knew, could sleep through a hurricane. Besides, his bedroom was up the stairs down the hall. Sophie had been put up in the very next room.

 

I groaned without opening my eyes and gave my last conscious effort to turn solid. My transparent feathered form flickered, almost gave (Calcifer tried not to panic at the shock of fear that sent him) then turned back into human flesh. I smoothed my dark hair back away from my face, gave Calcifer an exhausted look and trudged toward the stairs. Before I ascended, I poked into Sophie's room. Her young unblemished face showed no worry or fear. I watched her sadly one moment and then turned away.

 

She was more beautiful than I was and she didn't even know it. I primped myself each morning to look as dashing and handsome as I could. My hair knew more dye jobs than any one person I knew. I liked it golden as the sun, so I kept it that way as long as I could. My bird form mocked my very being, turning me as dark as my hair originally was. I grimaced and ordered the bath water to be turned hot as I stumbled up the stairs. Calcifer grumbled down below but he always obeyed me.

 

I undress apart from the mirror and sink into the scalding water, my long hair bannering around my face as I half lay in the bath. I was everything physically a girl could want, slim, tall, a face to break hearts and a (mostly) charming manner to make women weep. I could pick my own fragile psyche apart, I thought as I grimaced through one half-slit eye at the ceiling. I made myself as beautiful as I could because I was unwanted, unloved, and ugly. My beast form spoke the truth about that. Once at Madame Suliman's feet, I learned from a scholar whose erratic theory spoke of animal totems detailing a person's origins and path.

Was my beast form, a bird black as a crow, a beggar and an outcast? Did it tell what I truly was? No, I wasn't alone, I had Markl, Calcifer, and…her.

 

The boy I came along on happenstance. One of my old flings dropped him off at my door (the Kingsbury one) and told me to take him. I had asked wryly if he was mine, and all I got was an intended slap in the face. Magic sure is handy in the face of surprise. Markl was a good kid, and didn't bother me. He remained an excellent pupil and follower, very mature for his age. Sometimes I grin and wonder if he really was my son. He had all the intelligence after all. But that cowlick just had to be tamed.

Calcifer on the other hand, owned part of me. I ate him, and he in return, ate my heart, quite literally. My cheery and half ornery fire demon was by turn, honestly rude, blunt and whiny. How could I ever get along without him. So blessed this wizard is to have such great friends. (cue the sarcasm)

 

And her…. I sat up in the tub, water cascading from the ends of my hair and drenching my neck further. I dreamed more and more of what I was sure was a memory, Sophie looking young with her hair completely gray and shorn, screaming that she could help me and to find her. `Find me in the future!' I was sure that's what she said. Well, years had passed and there was no better time than the present, right?

 

I sighed and hauled my lank form out of the bath. My adult body sometimes frightened me and I did not know why. Maybe it was the stares and calls I received when I made myself up and strolled the towns looking for a girl to play with. Maybe it was my absent heart, but either way, I did not feel content unless I was abed in my child-like room. Or covered in feathers and razor-sharp talons attacking battle ships.

 

Strange how Sophie blushed every time she saw me. When she lets herself slip, and her true age showed, she is so beautiful. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a pig, age is beauty and all that fine philosophy. I just can't see myself opening myself to her when she is not her full self. Sophie takes her curse as the burden it was meant to be, hiding herself away behind a mask of lines and wisdom. True, her enthusiasm for us all is spellbinding even as an old woman. She fears not what others will think of her when she is someone she is truly not.

But where I hide myself behind beauty, she hides herself behind age. We both hide from ourselves and each other and sometimes it makes me sick. I know she cares for me, and does not fear my true form. So she cares for a beast man and does not mind I am slowly dying when I become myself. The bird is part of me and within me, and she cares not when her hands touch my feathered face and chest. She knows I am inside him and will protect her.

 

My heart feels empty and hollow as I dry my pale form off and trudge to my bedroom, my fingertips drawing protective wards behind me as I closed the door. The towel falls damply to the floor and I tug on a dressing gown, falling onto the fluffy comforter. Like a child, I curl my knees toward my chest, the gown pulling taut over my thighs. Life did not love me, and neither did anyone else. I'm sure Markl cared over me as much as a kid could, and Calcifer cared that I live so he could.

But Sophie….how could she care for me at all? I am a man-child, too immature to be taken seriously outside of public affairs, and too insecure to try to seek her out in private. My heart bubbled merrily in the coals of the hearth down below, hot where I was cold inside.

 

And yet, when she sits at my bedside and speaks in her gravelly old voice, I am comforted. One day I will help her be happy, for it would help me feel what my lost heart surely did in the fires of Calcifer. I want to love her, but I am scared.

 

I yawn and draw a line in midair, extinguishing the candles where I lay. Tomorrow I would deepen the golden dye in my hair and keep it that way as long as I could. Markl would need instruction in banishing wards, and Calcifer would need talking to about cooking. Sophie could sit and relax, let magic do the chores for her for a change.

And I, I would turn the door to black and try and do something good. Even if it killed more of me each time I went there.

 

End

 

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Penpaninu 3/05/06