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Day 92 – Mirror – Short Story

He slowly opens his eyes and lets out a grimace of pain, his head feels heavy, as if it’d been struck by something, he slowly and awkwardly raises his arm and clutches his head, he can feel a lump the size of a basketball on the side of his head, well, to him that’s how big it feels, but in reality it’s more like the size of an apple. Slowly he pulls himself up into a sitting position and the room spins violently like a merry go round and he lurches to the side and vomits up the contents of his stomach, which isn’t much. He coughs and splutters for some moments, blood and mucus lay splashed on the floor beside him, with some small remnants of unidentifiable food. He picks himself up from the flood and leans against the wall, the room before him is in taters, and worse, there are two bodies that lie on the floor a few feet from him, and both women’s dead eyes stare at him, he stands there frozen as his mind races quickly through the last few moments that his memory holds from before he woke up in the room and it turns up a blank, both women are unknown to him, as is the beaten and bloody man he sees in the mirrors reflection across the room. He stands there mesmerised and slowly walks towards the mirror.

“Who are you?” he says softly as he places his outstretched hand towards the mirror, touching the coldness of it, he pulls back and lets out a hiss of pain, his fingers tingle and he twists his head and looks at the mirror inquisitively, on the other side of the mirror the room looks bright, exploding with colours and light, he spins around and looks at the dull, dark, dank room and slowly turns back to the mirror. The two women who lie dead on the floor walk into the room, laughing, carrying shopping bags, as they go to close it someone charges in, a man, he looks familiar, and he slam the door. He smiles and pulls a knife from beneath his jacket and holds it towards the women as he yells something. He can’t hear the words as they don’t come through the mirror, only the picture seemed to cross over. The man lunges as one of the girls frantically pulls a gun from her purse and fires just as he drives the knife deep into her side, they both go crashing to the floor as the other girl screams, well, he assumes that what she does. Everything stands still for a moment before the woman runs towards the door, the man lurches forward to his feet with the other woman’s gun in his hand and fires two shots at the woman’s head, they both hit their target and she falls lifelessly to the floor like a puppet who’s strings had been cut as he stumbles backwards, and tumbles headlong into the mirror with a room shaking thud, a crack rips violently up through the mirror as the man crashes to the floor, and falls silent.

He stands there as the mirror turns dark and his bloody reflection looks back at him once more, he places his hand over the cracks in the mirror and feels the depths of the cracks. He feels their cold hands on his shoulders before they touch him and he spins around, staring into the blackness of whatever they are as they pull him under, as he realises all too late that he is the man, and now he will face his final judgment.



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