All objects have essence in them, Thom's philosophy professor once said. This essence can come in many forms; usually, it is the object's functionality. A knife's essence is to cut. A book is to be read. And this mask, its essence is to be worn.
Thom laid the skin-textured mask on his face. He's sitting upright, and the mask lacks the pieces that allow it to stick on Thom's face. But somehow, the mask is stuck clean. Thom tried to jam his uncut nails between the seams, but there is a problem. There are no seams! It is gone - erased. His fingers trailed on the edges of the mask, but it was as if his face and the mask fused. Thom ran to the mirror to see the damage but every step he took felt like boulders pulling him to the ground. Nevertheless, he managed to take one last look before he embraced the cold hard floor.
It was his face, and it is sitting in a neutral look. But that's not right. Thom is screaming, but the reflection's mouth is closed, and no sound is coming out. Thom crashed on the floor screaming until the world around him turned to dark.
---
Thom awoke minutes later. His mind is and so do his memories as to why he is on the ground. On his lap are two masks, one lacking features, and the other looks like his own. Then it hit him. The mask and the things it did! Thom threw both masks away and crawled out to the farthest corners of the room. That thing is cursed, he thought. It must be laced with psychedelics or something. Going crazy or everything about this is just as dreams are not out of the question. He pinched himself hard and cursed as to why he didn't make the pinch softer. He could feel it. Therefore, this is not a dream.
He stared at the masks. He was fully prepared for any more freaky shit it can do, but the masks remained stationary. The masks are flipped with their hollow side up did not do anything other than basking in the basement bedroom's static light. As he stared at both masks, Thom realized something. There is only one mask before, then why are there two of them on the floor? He walked to one of the masks and flipped it. His eyes went wide-open when he saw the features the new mask has. It's his face - a carbon copy of it. It perfectly mimicked the cut on his left brow, the bags from late-night practicing in the band, and even the lasered mole on his chin. This mask is his face. He flipped the other mask and saw that it was the original one he got from the package.
If this is a prank, it is so fucking real. But who would prank the loser, Thom Sanderson? Thom thought of someone, anyone. But he's too much of a loser to have a friend that would go to such great lengths for a prank like this.
This thing, this mask - it is real.