Kathrines Mask

A Story by Xuannu5810

Masks only show what is viewable on the outside yet, they hide what is on the inside. The title of 'the shrew' is given to women who are bad temepered however what if it was all a ruse?

I hate men, yet my greatest desire is to be wholly loved by a man. A man who is sweet yet rough, quite yet at the same time a wild tempest, intelligent and humorous, and most importantly a man who sees no need to 'tame the shrew' but rather to love the woman to which I am. I am a woman: one who appreciates beautiful things, and delicate music, books of all genres, and the outdoors. I am a woman with as many hidden qualities and view as there are lies and slandering which have been made about me. For all my admiral traits, all men see is a cross hag disguised as a young socialite with a desirable dowry, and now I am being sold off like cattle to a farmer. And my owner? A man who is above all things disgusting.

To him, I am no more than a possession; a wild horse that he thought he must forcibly tame to submission to show off to the world. Yet I was no such thing, my harsh words and actions were not attitudes which asked for a tamer, but rather a person who showed interest in what lay behind my views of men and the world, a man who sees me as a woman who needed a pillar of kind support rather than a shackle of suppression and dominance.

He thinks I do not know the game he plays, but I heard him our first night: "This is how to kill a wife with kindness, and in this way, I'll curb her wild and headstrong nature. If anyone knows a better way to tame a shrew…" He thinks himself smart, yet he is nothing other than a disgusting fool, and I am no more than a game to him.

I must admit that I, too am also a fool of sorts. Throughout my life, I had always been compared to Bianca. My jealousness warped me into a wasp who hides behind their sting, rather than a butterfly who should have shown off its unique spots. My vulgar words and rough demeanor has made me the butt of amusement among men lead me into the selfish trap of Petruchio. If only I dared to be myself when I was younger instead then grow covetousness of Bianca foolishly because and all her suitors and compliments.

My insecurity which I had as a seemingly impenetrable blanket of security has brought me more harm than good, and now I am to suffer the rest of my days in the presence of a stifling husband. I can do nothing but sit in my room or parlor and act like the perfect wife, less he tries to tame me once again and begin to hurt those who serve him withing the house and those who come to deliver. I shan't think I will be happy again, if I was ever happy, to begin with, and though I wish no immediate arm to him, I wish to be a widow as soon as possible for the hope that I might once again be free.

Katherine