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#316 Beyond the Mask

Been to the movies lately? With films like Superman and The Fantastic Four: First Steps lighting up cinemas this summer, I've been thinking about what truly makes a hero. Behind the capes and clever one-liners, they’ve got fears, flaws, and secrets, just like the rest of us — and sometimes, what stays with us isn’t the rooftop showdown, but what happens after the mask comes off.

So, this week, let’s explore what lies beneath the surface. Who is your character when the world isn’t watching? What are they hiding, and what happens if the truth gets out? Flip the idea of heroism on its head, invent a brand-new persona… anything that’ll take us past facades and into the heart of the person underneath.

🥇 Winner

The Truth Show

Winner of Contest #316 🏆

On the far couch, Sentinel sits hunched, elbows on knees, spine shaped like a question mark. No wedding ring. No nervous fidget, either. Just tremor, clockwork and incurable. Mara makes a note on her tablet: “minimize closeups.” They’d rolled out the promo campaign last week: “A Night With Sentinel—An Icon Returns.” Hashtag: #FirstAmongUs. Old newsreel cuts, drones screaming over city skylines, the slow-motion shot of Sentinel punching through the river wall at Carthage. Twenty years ago, every other apartment had his face on the fridge. Now...

49 likes 19 comments 19
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⭐️ Shortlisted

Catawumpus

Shortlisted for Contest #316 ⭐️

I’m a last-pickin’s, catfaced tomato kind of girl. Not pretty, barely fit for the skillet. Still, I agreed to meet him.My stomach growls as I stare through the glass. Past the garden, plum hills and bruised, mulberry skies are sweet enough to ease my nerves—but don’t.A gecko scurries over the cracked sill paint, claws ticking like the wall clock. Thirty minutes till supper in town. I’ll finally see him. And he’ll see me, bare, no filters.Was just last week she first said his name. “He’s lookin’ for a wife,” Granny said, after she got back fr...

25 likes 27 comments 27
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MASK

Shortlisted for Contest #316 ⭐️

MASK By the time Jaxon was finally airborne, that old anger tic in his cheek had begun to work. All morning, everything that could go wrong had gone wrong: from the air shuttle landing at the wrong helipad, to his place in the aeropod queue mistakenly moved from high priority to low, to the inept takeoff of the pod just before his– a barista’s rental. “Coffee Cop: We Perk and Serve,” read the magnet, hastily slapped onto the door. Coffee Cop. What a name. Probably chosen by those who had forgotten what a real cop was, picked because it was...

15 likes 4 comments 4
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This week's prompts

Write a story where a character's true identity or self is revealed.

Dramatic – 93 stories

Include the word “hero,” “mask,” or “truth" in your story’s title.

Short Story – 67 stories

Write a story from the POV of someone who’s hiding a secret.

Dramatic – 65 stories

Center your story around someone’s public image and private self colliding.

Dramatic – 30 stories

Write a story that includes the line "Can you keep a secret?" or “My lips are sealed."

Short Story – 52 stories

Stories

The Truth Show

Winner of Contest #316 🏆

On the far couch, Sentinel sits hunched, elbows on knees, spine shaped like a question mark. No wedding ring. No nervous fidget, either. Just tremor, clockwork and incurable. Mara makes a note on her tablet: “minimize closeups.” They’d rolled out the promo campaign last week: “A Night With Sentinel—An Icon Returns.” Hashtag: #FirstAmongUs. Old newsreel cuts, drones screaming over city skylines, the slow-motion shot of Sentinel punching through the river wall at Carthage. Twenty years ago, every other apartment had his face on the fridge. Now...

49 likes 19 comments 19
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The Harvest of Stone Seeds

Submitted to Contest #316

(Contains: physical violence, substance abuse) The day I consumed truth was sunny and normal for a Thursday in April. My lips, at first, lay still, stricken by that horrible sight. But that sight turned my mouth dry. So desperately dry, they began to part. No, there was no moisture keeping them sealed, keeping me safe. So they parted. And there was no going back, for that truth had already slipped into my mouth—yes, through a crevice of an opening, it had slipped into my mouth. And now, call it survival instinct, call it cowardice, all I cou...

35 likes 24 comments 24
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Paula

Submitted to Contest #316

We all wear a mask.You want to know who doesn’t? Every person of note, the saints and the sinners. That’s who - and that’s all. The rest of us feel the constriction of our disguise, but would rather die than take it off. Paula was a costume designer, a woman in network demand during her purple years. You have to have a feel for humanity, past and present, to set the tone of a piece; to live and breath it. You have to know what a fishwife would have worn in the soot of the 1880s, and what a middle-class mumsey wears now. You’ve got to feel it...

31 likes 28 comments 28
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The Lady in the Gilt Mask

Submitted to Contest #316

I still know the gleam of those large, meadow eyes, even behind the garish sheen of the gold silk of her mask. Her head might be tipped up, every centimetre precisely calculated to showcase a swan-like neck dripping in diamonds, but I recognise every flutter of those lush, upturned lashes. I could instantly detect how her bow lips shake like autumn leaves, even as they’re painted a luscious carmine. She may be a picture of elegance in her luxuriant merlot dress, every jewel scrupulously encrusted on the bodice, but I notice a terrified pinki...

29 likes 25 comments 25
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The Veil Lifted

Submitted to Contest #316

The Veil Lifted Floating along the cobbled main street, I hover outside the Black Bull, where once I entertained punters with ghostly tales. My behaviour was the subject of endless discussion, but my friends knew the truth. Others were more than happy to indulge in conjecture or false reports. Biographies of my sisters only made matters worse — they rarely did me justice. More often than not, I was cast as the villain of the piece, a disreputable figure incapable of fulfilling his artistic dreams and bringing shame to his family. Yet it didn...

28 likes 16 comments 16
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Catawumpus

Shortlisted for Contest #316 ⭐️

I’m a last-pickin’s, catfaced tomato kind of girl. Not pretty, barely fit for the skillet. Still, I agreed to meet him.My stomach growls as I stare through the glass. Past the garden, plum hills and bruised, mulberry skies are sweet enough to ease my nerves—but don’t.A gecko scurries over the cracked sill paint, claws ticking like the wall clock. Thirty minutes till supper in town. I’ll finally see him. And he’ll see me, bare, no filters.Was just last week she first said his name. “He’s lookin’ for a wife,” Granny said, after she got back fr...

25 likes 27 comments 27
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Never Tell

Submitted to Contest #316

TW: contains themes of abuse. It’s that time of night when you have no business being awake, with thoughts for companions no one would want. Switching on the lamp, you fiddle with odds and ends in the bedside drawer. Earplugs. Vaseline. The odd paperback you’re no longer able to read. You scrabble for a pill only to find all the packets are empty. Story of your life. Can it really be thirty years since his life ended? If you can call it a life. Only thirty years — forever wouldn’t be enough. Your bony hands grip the bannister. Another fall w...

23 likes 16 comments 16
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Lie to me

Submitted to Contest #316

My father had spent a month in the hospital, and I hadn't slept in two days when I first saw her. Rosa appeared in my life the day before my father died. Little did I know that the time I spent with her would change my life. I was sitting in a poorly designed armchair, in no way comfortable for anyone who should spend more than five minutes there, and still, that metal and fake cow skin piece of furniture seemed to have become part of me. I guess the physical pain made me cope better with my mental state, which was bad, to put it mildly. I d...

22 likes 12 comments 12
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Shadows in the Classroom

Submitted to Contest #316

Shadows in the Classroom Looking at the box of crayons on the coffee table, I knew it was time to have the conversation."Come, Sarah, I have a story to tell you." I cleared the back-to-school shopping bags off the couch, making room for my granddaughter to sit next to me.“Mom! We talked about this. We agreed not to,” my daughter said, a hint of anxiety creeping into her voice.“Abigail, don’t interrupt your mother,” I reprimanded. “Come, little one, let your grandmother tell you the story.” Sarah abandoned her bag of art supplies and joined m...

21 likes 12 comments 12
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Paper Portals

Submitted to Contest #316

My life had become paper. Not just metaphorically, but with actual thinness that touched everything. Two-dimensional. The screen-glow of spreadsheets cast shadows across my face, the air conditioner droned its only song, and identical microwaved dinners marked time’s passage.My apartment held the scent of stale coffee and quiet resignation. I moved through each day with careful precision, never deviating, never risking. Reality unfolded with the neat predictability of a receipt. Only within books did I find texture, the saturated colors abse...

20 likes 17 comments 17
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The Siphon

Submitted to Contest #316

I bring justice to the corrupt by draining their ambition, leaving them hollow and content, but I have to put all that stolen hunger somewhere. The snow globe sits on my kitchen counter, filled with what looks like ordinary water and artificial snow. But when the light hits it right, you can see the shimmer of something else entirely. Pure greed, distilled and trapped. It belonged to Mark Veil, the pharmaceutical CEO who jacked insulin prices until diabetics started dying in parking lots. I found him in his penthouse office, counting profit ...

20 likes 10 comments 10
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The Stories of Hero and Oat

Submitted to Contest #316

Many thousands of years ago, into a thriving community of Early People, onto the warm and fertile soil of the Eurasian continent, the first human storyteller was born. Her name was Oat.Early People tended to wait to give children names until the community noticed something particular about them. This made names easier to remember. Some community members, like Oat, were named for the kinds of things they did best. Oat spent most of her time in the oat patch, gathering oats and speaking. She was actually better known for her speaking. During O...

19 likes 12 comments 12
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The Unread Masterpiece

Submitted to Contest #316

Leo believed the world was drowning in stories, and he was the man selling the buckets. The apartment reeked of yesterday's coffee and something sour that might have been the takeout containers piled beside the sink. Books climbed the walls like ivy, their spines cracked and faded from a decade of neglect. The desk where he once crafted what critics called "a luminous debut" now held nothing but invoices for his latest marketing campaigns. Copy for toilet paper. Headlines for diet supplements. Words stripped of meaning, sold by the pound. Th...

19 likes 16 comments 16
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The Kindest One

Submitted to Contest #316

Warning: Explores mature emotional themes. The olive oil sputtered as it struck the pan. Alex leapt back slightly, chuckling at themselves. Jordan, already chopping onions at unnerving speed, didn’t bother to look up.“You always forget that it does that,” said Jordan, beaming.“Refuse to learn,” Alex replied, reaching for the wooden spoon.The kitchen had the scent of roasted garlic, rosemary, and a citrusy scent Jordan had zested up earlier without saying a word. Speakers installed above the refrigerator were playing an old Etta James album, ...

18 likes 6 comments 6
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London's Mask

Submitted to Contest #316

There was something wrong with London. It wasn’t broken; it was just misaligned. Cora James had lived in the city for nearly three years, long enough to grow used to its chaos. The Tube delays, the polite apathy, the rain that never stopped. She walked its cracked pavements with her headphones in, a bag full of books over her shoulder, a coat too thin, and a determination that masked the tiredness in her spine. Lately, things had shifted. It began with her reflections. Mirrors and windows showed things that shouldn’t have been there. Slight...

18 likes 12 comments 12
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