THE GREAT MASKED ESCAPE (Patreon)

REMEMBER THE GIRL IN THE PILLORY? LOL THIS WAS INSPIRED BY AN EPISODE OF THE MASK ANIMATED SERIES

*Sara’s Journey Back in Time.

Sara never meant to travel back in time. In fact, she hadn’t even realized the ancient wooden mask she found in that dusty old shop had such mystical power. After an exhausting day at work, she had placed the mask on her face as a joke, her reflection distorted in the dim light of her apartment. But the moment she wore it, reality shifted. Her thoughts became cloudy, her limbs elastic, and the walls of her room seemed to stretch as her laughter echoed louder than it should have. The world spun, and everything around her turned to a blur of cartoonish chaos.

When she awoke, she was no longer in her apartment. The sun was just starting to rise over a landscape that felt both familiar and ancient. Stone houses, muddy streets, and the distinct lack of any modern technology filled her vision. Her clothes, modern and comfortable the day before, were now soiled and torn from her strange journey. The mask was gone, but the residue of its power lingered on her mind. She had traveled back in time—centuries, perhaps more.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. The people of this old world had seen her. During her time as the Mask, she had done things no normal person could do—cartoonish, impossible things. She had stretched her arms to snatch a bird from the sky, conjured objects out of thin air, and sprinted across the rooftops like a living whirlwind. They had seen the absurdity of her powers, her green-skinned face, her manic laughter.

The villagers weren’t impressed. They were terrified. And terrified people acted quickly.

By midday, Sara found herself locked in a pillory, her arms and head trapped in the wooden restraint. The villagers had gathered around, whispering about her being a witch or something worse. They spoke of her green skin, her impossible powers. She had no idea how to explain it, no idea how to convince them she wasn’t some malevolent force. As the hours passed, the sun began to sink toward the horizon, casting a golden-orange glow over the village square.

Sara’s panic grew as the sky deepened into sunset. She struggled against the pillory, her heart racing. How was she going to escape this? The mask—it had to still be somewhere. She looked around frantically until her eyes landed on a young boy, lingering at the edge of the crowd. He was staring at her, his eyes wide and curious.

The boy seemed to notice her desperation and inched closer. Sara strained her neck toward him and whispered, “Listen, kid… I need your help. The mask. There’s a mask somewhere—green, wooden, strange. You’ve seen it?”

The boy nodded cautiously. “Yes… it’s in the pile of things they took from you.”

Sara’s eyes lit up. “I need you to put it on my face. Please. Trust me.”

He hesitated, his small hands fidgeting. “But… they’ll see…”

“No one will know. Just do it quickly. Trust me, I can stop all of this.” Sara's voice cracked, a plea for freedom mixed with the knowledge of what the Mask could unleash.

With a final, hesitant glance around, the boy darted toward the pile of confiscated items. He rummaged through and pulled out the Mask, its surface glistening in the golden light of the setting sun. The crowd, momentarily distracted by a merchant’s arrival, didn’t notice the boy sneaking back toward Sara.

Her heart pounded as he approached. He stood on his tiptoes, awkwardly lifting the Mask to her face. The moment the mask touched her skin, Sara felt it again—the power surging through her. A violent tremor ran through her body as the Mask attached itself with a vengeance.

---

Sara’s eyes bulged unnaturally wide, the whites glowing green as her pupils expanded into large, cartoonish spirals. The Mask’s energy surged into her, twisting her face into a grotesque, wild grin. The wood of the pillory groaned under the pressure of her transformation, and her skin rippled as it turned a vivid, unnatural shade of green.

The veins on her neck bulged as the Mask merged with her, fusing to her face in a torrent of raw, chaotic energy. Her muscles pulsed beneath her skin, swelling and contracting, her entire body spasming as if being stretched and squashed by invisible hands. Her limbs writhed, twisting grotesquely, becoming rubbery and fluid-like.

The transformation accelerated. Her fingers elongated into ridiculous, exaggerated shapes, snapping free from the wooden stocks, and her neck stretched like elastic, twisting in unnatural angles as her head remained locked in a fixed, maniacal grin. The green hue of her skin grew more vibrant, her hair stretching and snapping back into jagged, cartoonish tufts.

Her clothes shifted along with her body, as if animated by the same chaotic energy. Gone were her modern, torn clothes. Now, she wore a tight, sultry red velvet dress with a deep plunging neckline, revealing her exaggerated, cartoonishly curvaceous form. The dress clung to her body like liquid, shimmering in the dimming sunset, with a high slit revealing her elongated legs, now toned and powerful. Her feet slipped into a pair of black heels that seemed to materialize out of nowhere, clicking against the cobblestone beneath her.

As the final stage of the transformation took hold, Sara felt a pressure build in her shoulders and chest. The pillory, still fastened around her, cracked under her growing strength, the wood groaning as it splintered. With one violent jerk, she ripped the pillory from its base, still locked around her neck and wrists, and spun around, her feet leaving small craters in the dirt as she bounced and twirled.

---

The crowd gasped in horror, but Sara, now completely transformed, let out a booming, exaggerated laugh that echoed across the village square. She looked down at the pillory still attached to her like a bizarre ornament and shrugged, kicking her legs out playfully as if it were nothing more than a silly accessory.

She danced around the square, the wooden structure bouncing on her back as she leaped and twirled in a whirlwind of chaotic energy. The sunset cast long shadows, and her green skin shimmered in the golden light, making her appear both terrifying and absurd.

“Who wants to dance?” she bellowed, her voice dripping with exaggerated theatricality. The villagers, too stunned to react, backed away slowly, their faces pale with disbelief.

With a final, triumphant cackle, Sara bounded out of the square, with the pillory stuck to her. She leaped onto the rooftops with ease, leaving the villagers to wonder if they had just witnessed a witch—or something far stranger.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Sara’s laughter echoed long after she disappeared into the distance, the pillory still clinging to her like a bizarre, wooden cape, her transformation complete and unstoppable.

Sara’s fate remained unknown to the villagers, but one thing was certain: whoever—or whatever—wore that Mask was not bound by the laws of reality.