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Two Men in the Mirror

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Originally posted on my personal website http://thetyk.blogspot.com


TWO MEN IN THE MIRROR

My Red Sea of dreams was parted by the powers of the God that is reality. I blinked, realizing that my eyes were still heavy with sleep. I must not have slept long. Grubbily I sat up and stretched my aching, mutated spine. I looked around the- room? Where was I? I know I haven’t been the most empty glass in the bar, but I knew this was not my bedroom. It was a.. bathroom? And I had been laying on the floor? Surveying the surroundings, I saw a rather large mirror in the center of the wall, above the sinks. I rose up, and walked over to it.

I turned on the warm water and washed my face. I looked up and gazed at the mirror- I looked horrible. I looked like my eyes had seen no sleep since their first awakening. My hair was in a mess. Bloodied bruises and scars covered my perplexed face. I had no idea where they came from. I blinked, and when I opened my eyes it looked like- somehow- my condition was worse. I had more cuts. My face had become clearer. Probably a really bad hangover, I thought. I must be hallucinating.

What happened next- well- will sound ridiculous. I saw something on the top of my head. I leaned over to get a better look at it- and I saw what was causing that weird sight. The mirror showed horns. I thought that this was some prank mirror, and someone was playing a sick joke on me. I swayed from left to right, and so did my doppelgänger- at least it was a real mirror. I then smiled- but what came back was- well, it was a smile all right, but my teeth were sharp, yellowed, and bloody. My eyes while I was smiling seemed to look bloodshot and fierce.

I blinked in astonishment. When I opened my eyes again, I felt like I looked different. I was bloodier. I had more scars. What kind of sick joke was this? Don't you agree? This is a very, very sick joke? I agree. I thought to myself- who would pull a prank like this right now? With the situation I'm in? What kind of sick psychopath is pulling this trick on me? And then- I saw something. In the mirror, that is. A small child. Curly but short, golden blonde hair. Innocent, blue eyes that looked like they could make any ill person feel like the king of the world. He looked familiar. I had seen him somewhere before. And then, suddenly, it all came flooding back- my Nile River of pain and regret and guilt.

It was him. How did he get here? Surely you're wondering as much as I am. I mean, how could anyone survive what I did to that house? I'm surprised there is any skin left on him. This was an evil child- born of an evil mother. Now I remember. I remember why that woman was evil. She always yelled at me when it was blurry. When I was off- balance and I couldn't think, yet I was so happy- the happiest I have ever been in my lifetime- that was when she would start the yelling. She got mad at me. She got very mad at me, so I stopped her. That child, that evil child, tried to convince me not to. He couldn't. I would NOT FALL VICTIM to these demons' tricks and conspiracies. They could not harm me, for I am above evil spirits.

Those demons bared the strange, foreign names of Wife and Son. How wretched. How unholy. And if they had not gotten in the way of that lovely beverage that made me so very happy, I would not have needed to start the burning. It was simple as that. So simple. And how could they not get it?

But, back to the mirror my lovely reader. The child in the mirror just stood there and stared. He stared right into my eyes, and did nothing else. How dare he. I was infuriated. With my left arm I punched the mirror. And it broke. Into millions of shards. The child was gone. My arm was bloodied and in so much pain, but I did not care one bit. I was content.

But then, I looked around. Apparently, the entire bathroom had mirrors hanging all over the walls. Mirrors of different shapes and sizes. Not an inch of concrete to be seen. And in every single mirror- that evil demon child. Just standing there, in that reflection. Doing absolutely nothing but staring. How dare he. I punched. Over and over again. I punched every mirror I saw, and I never relented. My left arm- there was barely anything left of it when I was finished. The pain was absolutely unbearable. I did not care. It was worth it. It was all worth it. In every mirror were the faces of that demon man, whoever he was- I had no idea. He did not look familiar. I needed to stop his face, and the face of that evil child.

Then was when I looked back up. Suddenly, all the mirrors had been replenished. Every broken mirror was in perfect condition again. And I heard one single laugh. Not one long, evil, hearty laugh, but a very short "Ha!", uttered in a mocking and patronizing tone by some high and breathy voices. Challenge accepted. As I write this note on the floor with my blood, I prepare to battle the mirrors once more. I shall punch and punch and never stop. and when my arms are gone, I still have my head. I write this note to chronicle the last great event of my amazing and godly existence. Thank you for reading.

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