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The Mirror
The hard concrete scrapes against my skin
My life flashes before my closed eyes
The backs of my eyelids red from the sun
I feel the warm drip of blood against the back of my hand
As the ground scrapes through my flesh
I would give anything away
To be a child again, play again, see my family whole again
I miss Christmas, I miss summer
I miss life
The prick of a sting at my hand makes me pull back
My eyes open despite the rays
And I see before me
My house, my dog, my trees
I am home
The sounds of old memories and whispers flood the air
The stagnant, stifling air
What happened here?
I can’t remember
My hand stings as my opposite wipes the small pool of blood
My dog prances over to see me, licking it clean
I can’t help but smile and laugh
I stand, my shoes scraping on pavement
The front door is open, welcoming me in
Hot air persists from the gap in the so-called home
The dog growls at my heels, urging me to enter
The faint scent of death
A vultures sickening cry
The sun beams through the windows
Filtered by the leaves
My dog nudges her soft head against my leg
I open the pantry and toss her a treat
She happily takes it and crunches on it
The floor is slick with a substance I can’t name
The walls drip and pulse
The dog stretches its jaws, flesh ripping from bone
I continue on, my shoes slipping against the floor
I turn the corner and walk up the carpeted stairs
My hand dances over the cool banister
Something squishes beneath my shoe
I look down and see a sticky black spot
I ignore it and continue, the light beckoning me
I avoid touching the slick, dripping banister
My shoes squelch against the carpet
Can I go back?
The dog snarls from the bottom step
The hallway is warmly lit and open
I follow the line of doors to the end
The purple of my bedroom walls greet my eyes
My posters, flags, lights, furniture
It’s all there, waiting on me
I slink past the seemingly endless corridor of rattling doors
What could be trying to get in?
Or are they protecting themselves from me?
The door at the end of the hallway looms as I step in
I move about the room
I take in the familiar scent
I graze my hand over my warm bedsheets
My dog sits just behind me, her tongue lolling out of her mouth
I turn to the mirror
What should have been a bedroom is not
It is a sickening recreation of a nightmare
I take in the melting faces on the posters and the fraying flags
I turn to the mirror
Amidst the bright paint of the wall, the mirror is a horror scene
Black drips from the reflection
Blood oozes from what I can see of my eyes
My face is contorted in pain
What is this?
The reflection is beautiful
Light emanates from the glass and I see me
I am beautiful again
I reach out my hand
The figure on the other side reaches for me
That can’t be my reflection
I am happy, pretty, in love
My dog barks at the mirror, unnerved
I can only stare
My hand touches the smoothness of the mirror
It’s cold against the stagnant air
I can’t break through
She has become what I admired
I watch the bloody face cry
The tears streak against the black goo on it’s face
I can almost make out a complexion beneath
It matches my own
But this can’t be me.
My eyes drip with steaming tears
I cry out as they burn my face
What happened here?
Help me to remember
I step slowly towards the mess of a mirror
Drawn by the pity for this figure
Drawn by a selfless desire
I will help you remember
I say aloud, my voice high and scared
The dog has made it’s way upstairs and growls at me from the doorway
I turn to look for a moment
It’s lower jaw has morphed into a mass of bleeding teeth
I scream again for help
I reach out my hand for the figure
I place it against the hot glass
The heat hurts my fingertips
But I press my palm against the figure’s
Then I am gone
I feel the soft flesh against my own
We connect
We are one and the same
I remember everything
Flashes fill my mind
Blood splatters, growling, yelling
Screaming, squishing, retching
A final gasp of life
As my dog tries to fight off my attacker
I breathe in a deep breath as my eyes open
I am staring at the ceiling of my college dorm
The air is neither cold nor hot
My mind is fogged over with sleep and nightmare
I turn to look at the clock and feel a sharp sting
The back of my right hand is bleeding
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This was written simply because of listening to the Sally Face soundtrack and getting inspired.