I bought a creepy mask from an old Venetian guy and he warned me not to go to the Grand Canal that night

I wasn't going to post this but I've been thinking about it for months and I need someone to tell me I didn't imagine it.

So last winter break, right before graduation, I decided to skip the usual Eurotrip and go to Venice by myself. Water city, mask city, carnival season in February. I was hyped. I had this whole romantic idea in my head.

First few days were genuinely dreamlike. I liked wandering the residential alleys instead of doing San Marco and Rialto with the tourist hordes. You feel like you're seeing the real face of the city or whatever.

Day 4. I end up in Castello district, dead-end alley, sunset bleeding orange through the buildings. Every shop closed except one. No sign. Just an old wooden door propped open.

I peek in. Old man, white hair, carving something with a tiny blade. And the walls. The walls were COVERED in masks. Not the glittery carnival kind. Plain white. No expression. Just hundreds of blank faces staring.

It was creepy but also kind of beautiful?? I walked in.

"Buongiorno."

He barely looked up. I wandered around and noticed the masks weren't actually identical. Some had the tiniest smile. Some looked. sad. Like deeply sad. I asked in broken Italian if they were for sale and he finally put his knife down and LOOKED at me. The way his eyes cut through me I actually flinched.

"These aren't just masks, signorina. They're called Volto Larva."

Ghost faces. He told me these go back to the plague era. Not the bird-beak doctor ones, the ones regular people wore. He handed me one. Cold, smooth. The eye holes were SO dark. Like they were pulling at me.

"A vessel for the city's grief. They used to say if you wear this and walk at night, you can see the souls sleeping beneath the water."

Okay. I was sold. I bought it. And as I'm paying he goes:

"Don't go to the Canal Grande tonight. Especially with no moon."

I laughed it off. Spooky shopkeeper bit, right? Cute marketing.

Except his voice stuck in my head all the way back to the hostel. "Souls sleeping beneath the water." Over and over.

Venice at night is UNREAL quiet. No cars. Just distant boats and water slapping stone. Past midnight I literally could not stop myself. I grabbed the mask and left.

I put it on walking up to the Accademia bridge. The second it was on my face the world went muffled. The wood felt wet and wrong against my skin.

No moon. The canal was a huge black snake. Gondolas floating like coffins. I'm not being dramatic that's genuinely what they looked like.

And then.

Something white in the water. I squinted. It was a face. No features. Just the SHAPE of a face. Blank. Exactly like the one I was wearing.

Then another. Then dozens. Then HUNDREDS. Floating up from under the water like lily pads, slow, so slow, all of them turned toward me. No eyes. No mouths. But they were looking at me. I KNOW they were looking at me.

And the worst part. The absolute worst part. Zero sound. Not a ripple. Not a splash. Just silent white faces rising up to stare at the girl on the bridge.

I couldn't even scream. I just ran. Didn't look back. But here's the thing. There were no footsteps behind me. No water sounds. Nothing. Just my own heart trying to escape my chest.

Near my hostel I finally stopped and glanced at the canal.

Nothing. Smooth black water. Like it never happened.

I ripped the mask off. Just a wooden mask in my hand. But the inside of the eye holes smelled. wet. Not Venice-canal wet. Something way more rotten. Fishy. Wrong.

Next morning soon as the sun was up I went back to return it. [post cuts off here]