Wellington Street

In which we take a stroll down a very strange stretch of road.


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"The Porcelain Coated Mask"

“When I was younger my mom insisted that I wear a mask. Since I was little I had never really known a time without it on. I would remove the porcelain coated mask during bath-time so I could wash, but before I left the tub I was made to put back on, even when we had family over. Mom said there was something different about me that people wouldn't understand. I trusted her.

I didn't mind it really. It was a very nice mask. Clean and bright. The other kids though would make fun of me and say that my mom thought I was too ugly to walk around otherwise. I wanted to take off the mask to prove them wrong but it was fastened on tight with clasps, wires, and single lock. Only my mom had the key. So I would play by myself during recess, building castles in the dirt or playing with the dolls my mom would make me.

My teachers tried to do what they could to help me make friends, but it was never enough.

Over time though some of the kids began being nice to me. Shirley was the nicest of all of them, and for the first time in my life I had a real friend. My mom didn't like it at first. She said the it was too much of a risk. But as time passed she got used to it. It was the happiest I had ever been, and sometimes my mom would even let me go over to her house, though if I stayed for dinner her parents had to specially prepare the food for me.

Mostly liquids, fed through the small slit in the mask.

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