The Mirror
(a piece of flash fiction)
I once heard that if you stare at a mirror long enough, your face will eventually disappear; it will fade into one that you had in a previous life. The same people who told me this also believe that the world is infested with demons of varying degrees of wickedness. The implication was that you better have a Bible by your side when you start your quest.
Author’s Note: I don’t own a Bible.
Yesterday was a bad day. I was trying to write, but I couldn’t think of a damn thing to type, so I gave up. Ten beers later, I gave in to my temptation. You know what I did, right?
I stood in front of my reflection for a long, long time. Nothing, nothing, and more stillness, and then it happened, the surprise, the thing I never could have imagined. As I stood there trying to get my old, ragged face to fade away, I realized something, a notion both curious and profound — a thought at once deeply disturbing, elusive, and yet powerful. I couldn’t move, paralyzed with both frustration and anticipation.
Sure, I have missed her every day since I met her; I came to terms with that a long time ago — what a disturbing lesson, the fact that you can meet someone only once and miss them. The mirror told me something different, though, something that…
As my concentration deepened, I still saw the same old face that has always looked back at me; the big difference this time was that I realized that I was alone, really alone. As I began to contemplate my fate, the mirror started to curve in on itself, enclosing me in a cylinder. It was terrifying.
I knew that not only was she never going to be beside me; I knew that there was never going to be two sets of eyes looking back. I knew that the cold, harsh breeze to my left was going to remain. The goosebumps forming on my arms grew in lockstep as hope diminished.
It was then that the mirror told the whole story; it was only then that the image and the demons responsible for generating it began their exposition. This is what they said; spoken in an unnatural verse, untamed and chaotic.
How does it feel? Tell us, please. Do you still miss her? How bad does that make you feel? Look again, if you have the guts. Do you see it?
What is the problem? Are you not ready for the truth? Steel yourself, you pathetic human. We can not feel sorry for you; even if you deserved our sympathy, our thoughts mean nothing. They change nothing.
Look back…way back, and you will see the truth, the only nonfiction of your meaningless life. We can tell that you understand. Now you must go.
The next thing I knew, I was struggling to lift myself off the floor. My body convulsed as I was overcome by their message. I passed out, not waking until the following day.
Cause and effect mean nothing to me now. Linear consequences to actions are nothing more than fanciful notions like unicorns, pixies, and soulmates. I instantly knew what the demons meant; their message was simple and straightforward; they wanted me to realize that I missed her before I met her.
