Meanwhile in another world, Rebecca met Mr. Trip. And the old man with face. “You really have face!” Rebecca was amazed. He looked exactly like the old Alain Delon. “So, the words are true. No wonder a lot of ladies went crazy about you and the witch took your face.”
Rebecca then realized that the old man could have stolen Alain Delon’s face. She realized that the old man is old. He could have been alive since dinosaurs roamed the land. She wondered if there was a reason for the old man wanting to steal people's faces. So she asked the old man and found out the truth. The old man was very much in love with the witch. They were going to run away and get married. However, the witch's mother cast a spell on the old man so that he could never see or kiss her daughter again. She told him that she put his face on a random person and that the only way to get it back was to steal it back. It could be a man or woman. The old man had been searching for his face again because he believed that the witch that he loves will only love him if he had his handsome face again.
But he had stolen many faces that he forgot how his original face looked like. He didn’t remember exactly how the shapes of his eyes, nose, lips, et cetera. All he could remember was just he had always been actually an average person. “There’s nothing special about me. Neither my face, nor my personality. You can see me once, and you won’t remember anything about me when you see me again by the next chance. And when I found someone that I love, I thought that I must stand out so she would not forgive me, so I would always be in her mind and her heart. And, indeed, that worked. She loved me for my face because I stole the face of the most handsome man in the world at that time,” the old man explained with a grim, somber voice. “I was thinking to steal Mr. Trip’s face initially, but it turned out that his face didn’t fit me right.”
“What the-- Wait, does it mean that I am handsome?” Mr. Trip stroked his face and searched for something he could reflect.
“Please don’t think that way,” said Rebecca to the old man. “I believe that each individual has something unique and special. You just haven’t found it yet.”
The old man laughed sarcastically. “Kid, you haven’t lived long enough. The world doesn’t work that way.”
“Or, maybe someday you would find someone that would love you for the way you are, so you don’t have to steal faces any more. You just have to wait, and keep looking for her?” Rebecca persisted.
“Or you just need to lower your standard,” added Mr. Trip, who just found a mudhole and began to think that he was truly handsome, “and find an average-looking lady.”
“Sometimes you just need to have faith,” Rebecca mumbled.
Eggs showed up. Eggs said, “You're going down faceless man. I'm about to send everyone's faces back to them.” Eggs poured a solution from a beaker into his mouth. His belly got big and round, and his hair fell off. He jumped to the old man and bounced the old man back using his belly.
“Not the belly bounce,” cried the old man.
“I'm invincible with my belly,” explained Eggs. “With my belly size, I created the ultimate attack and defense. You can't get close enough to me to steal my face while I can attack you.”
“You're a smart kid. But that's all you are still. A kid. You're a few hundred years too young to be facing me.”
“Really? There's no way you can beat me.”
The old man took his cane out. He swept Eggs’ legs. Eggs fell down. Eggs wobbled on the floor.
“Looks like you can't get back up,” said the old man.
The old man walked to Eggs face and said, “Hmm, it's funny. If I steal your face, you'll look like an egg.”
“Stop,” cried Rebecca. “That isn't your face. I'll help you find your face if you let him go.”
Tears fell down Rebecca's face. The old man started at Rebecca and stepped away from Eggs.
“Sorry,” apologized the old man. “Let's go then, Rebecca.”
Rebecca and the old man time-travelled to the age when the old man was born. Everyone was walking or riding a horse. People lived in huts. “What are we going to do here?” asked Rebecca. “We’re looking for the young-me,” said the old man.
“Okay, how does he look like?”
“Well, remember, I forget, because my face is so average and yadda yadda yadda.”
“Ugh, okay. Well, maybe we can find someone who can recognize your face. Maybe your family.”
“They’re also average.”
“You can’t forget your family’s faces!”
“They look just like me.”
“Maybe your handsome friend.”
“It’s the first face I stole.”
“Let’s go find him!”
Rebecca and the old man searched around. They asked the townspeople and bar keepers if any of them saw a really handsome guy. Everyone said no. Then Rebecca and the old man saw a poster for a witch hanging at noon.
“What's a witch hanging?” asked Rebecca.
“Ummm,” replied the old man nervously. “It is something that we should avoid.”
“How come? It sounds like a place where we can hang out with other witches.”
“Not quite. It's where they hang witches and burn them to death. Witches and wizards were not really accepted here in the past.”
“Let's go back to the future. I don't like this. My whole life I thought witches and wizards were normal.”
The old man grabbed a newspaper and looked at the date. The old man said, “I don't think we should leave. Actually, if I remember correctly, I'm the one being hung by my friend. That's when I decided to steal his face and trick everyone into thinking he was the wizard.”
Rebecca said, “Even friendships were weird in the past.”
The old man and Rebecca decided to go to the hanging.
To be continued ....
This is the second story I wrote with Sam Pham, someone I met on Bottled. He initiated the first paragraph, as before.
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