The title does not lie! This is just bits and pieces that I managed to pull out of the mirror in my mind and write down. There will be bits of incoherency and confusion no doubt, just bare with. Also I'd like to apologize for the lack of description and clear setting in the fourth part For Another Piece Click This!
You look in the mirror, your reflection looking back. It’s a perfect reversed copy; your eyes, your mouth, your body, everything is exactly the same except for one little thing. There in the world within the mirror, in the other you’s left hand (a reflection of your right) is a gun. You look at the reflection, then down at your hand, then back at the reflection. You move, the reflection moves. Bring your empty hand up and It brings up Its loaded one, barrel glistening in the light from your lamp. Move your other hand just so and it’s like your reflection is cocking the gun, readying for a shot. Another move and the gun is at Its temple, only air pointed at yours. You stare, It stares, and with a twitch of your finger mirror you shoots. But nothing happens. The other you stands there unfazed. You smile, It smiles, except Its smile is different. Its smile is sinister and cold, and It laughs. You don’t. Your face falls as mirror you moves on Its own, pointing the gun out and at your head. There isn’t time to scream before It shoots, splattering your brains against the bookcase behind you. You fall, It doesn’t. Out from that cold backwards world It climbs, stepping delicately out of the frame and over your motionless body. Only you aren’t you anymore. Now It is you, the exact same save for Its inverted heart.
There’s an old belief that souls could get trapped in mirrors, the shiny glass having to be covered for births and deaths as the souls of babies and the departed are not as secure within the body. If left uncovered, the wandering soul could get sucked in and forever be caught within that reversed world of cold, cold glass. Of course, that’s just some old wives tale, a folk saying from a time long lost. It’s not true… or at least that is what we choose to believe.
But let us suppose for a moment that it is true, that the souls of the dead and newly living do get caught in another world when their reflections show. What would happen to them? What would life be like living in a mirror? Surely it would not be some Alice in Wonderland, Through the Looking Glass fantasy in which a little cat shaking could set you free. No, I assume it would be much more horrid, an existence cold and terrifying. The soul would more than likely become corrupt, tainted by years of solitude and despair.
What if the soul wanted to get out? Could it? Could it perhaps take over the reflection of another, become that person? And would it then have to kill the original person, freeing up their spot in life? Suppose all these answers are yes. Suppose there are certain people in this world that aren’t who we think they are. Suppose a group of mirror beings masquerade around in others’ reflections pretending to be them as the real people lay dead. Could we tell the difference? Could we know who is real and who is just another inverted soul?
Never should ye trust the glass girl,
For her smile doth lie.
Put no faith in thine reflection, child,
Lest into the mirror ye fly.
For some sick reason they had decided to call the portal “Looking-Glass”, even though it reflected no animate object and it certainly did not lead to some Wonderland adjacent world full of talking horseflies and less then helpful chess pieces. No, the world that lay beyond this mirror was cold and desolate, neither here nor there. It didn’t exist the way we think of existence, it merely was. Time died there, everything died there. Hope was a lost cause and even the air seemed to assault your lungs as you breathed in your first terrified gasp of terror.
This wasn’t Wonderland, this was something even more ******** up, and the mirror… you couldn’t even pass through without losing a bit of your soul to it, pieces of your sanity caught within as a chimera version of you formed, staring back and ready to kill you if you didn’t kill it first. It wasn’t murder if it wasn’t a person. And it wasn’t. It went against the very laws of metaphysics for there to be two of you. It wasn’t normal, but really what was anymore?
Everything had changed in a matter of decades, the world turning on its head from one little ******** up. The world wasn’t the world anymore. It was a giant prison, each person locked away by law and fear. There’s no need for lawyers in a world with no justice, no freedom in a land of lies. Public opinion was stay alive, but even that was a lie, the truth being many actually preferred death.
Perhaps this was our punishment, the price we paid for years of greed and sin, accumulating in one giant ******** you. Not the apocalypse, though, for even the righteous were left behind. No, earth had merely turned into purgatory, the world beyond the mirror being hell. Heaven had yet to join the party and it was becoming clear that it never intended to come. We were all alone. So ******** alone. At least the world beyond the mirror was something different. Worse, but different.
You look in the mirror, your reflection looking back. It’s a perfect reversed copy; your eyes, your mouth, your body, everything is exactly the same except for one little thing. There in the world within the mirror, in the other you’s left hand (a reflection of your right) is a gun. You look at the reflection, then down at your hand, then back at the reflection. You move, the reflection moves. Bring your empty hand up and It brings up Its loaded one, barrel glistening in the light from your lamp. Move your other hand just so and it’s like your reflection is cocking the gun, readying for a shot. Another move and the gun is at Its temple, only air pointed at yours. You stare, It stares, and with a twitch of your finger mirror you shoots. But nothing happens. The other you stands there unfazed. You smile, It smiles, except Its smile is different. Its smile is sinister and cold, and It laughs. You don’t. Your face falls as mirror you moves on Its own, pointing the gun out and at your head. There isn’t time to scream before It shoots, splattering your brains against the bookcase behind you. You fall, It doesn’t. Out from that cold backwards world It climbs, stepping delicately out of the frame and over your motionless body. Only you aren’t you anymore. Now It is you, the exact same save for Its inverted heart.
~~~
There’s an old belief that souls could get trapped in mirrors, the shiny glass having to be covered for births and deaths as the souls of babies and the departed are not as secure within the body. If left uncovered, the wandering soul could get sucked in and forever be caught within that reversed world of cold, cold glass. Of course, that’s just some old wives tale, a folk saying from a time long lost. It’s not true… or at least that is what we choose to believe.
But let us suppose for a moment that it is true, that the souls of the dead and newly living do get caught in another world when their reflections show. What would happen to them? What would life be like living in a mirror? Surely it would not be some Alice in Wonderland, Through the Looking Glass fantasy in which a little cat shaking could set you free. No, I assume it would be much more horrid, an existence cold and terrifying. The soul would more than likely become corrupt, tainted by years of solitude and despair.
What if the soul wanted to get out? Could it? Could it perhaps take over the reflection of another, become that person? And would it then have to kill the original person, freeing up their spot in life? Suppose all these answers are yes. Suppose there are certain people in this world that aren’t who we think they are. Suppose a group of mirror beings masquerade around in others’ reflections pretending to be them as the real people lay dead. Could we tell the difference? Could we know who is real and who is just another inverted soul?
~~~
Never should ye trust the glass girl,
For her smile doth lie.
Put no faith in thine reflection, child,
Lest into the mirror ye fly.
~~~
For some sick reason they had decided to call the portal “Looking-Glass”, even though it reflected no animate object and it certainly did not lead to some Wonderland adjacent world full of talking horseflies and less then helpful chess pieces. No, the world that lay beyond this mirror was cold and desolate, neither here nor there. It didn’t exist the way we think of existence, it merely was. Time died there, everything died there. Hope was a lost cause and even the air seemed to assault your lungs as you breathed in your first terrified gasp of terror.
This wasn’t Wonderland, this was something even more ******** up, and the mirror… you couldn’t even pass through without losing a bit of your soul to it, pieces of your sanity caught within as a chimera version of you formed, staring back and ready to kill you if you didn’t kill it first. It wasn’t murder if it wasn’t a person. And it wasn’t. It went against the very laws of metaphysics for there to be two of you. It wasn’t normal, but really what was anymore?
Everything had changed in a matter of decades, the world turning on its head from one little ******** up. The world wasn’t the world anymore. It was a giant prison, each person locked away by law and fear. There’s no need for lawyers in a world with no justice, no freedom in a land of lies. Public opinion was stay alive, but even that was a lie, the truth being many actually preferred death.
Perhaps this was our punishment, the price we paid for years of greed and sin, accumulating in one giant ******** you. Not the apocalypse, though, for even the righteous were left behind. No, earth had merely turned into purgatory, the world beyond the mirror being hell. Heaven had yet to join the party and it was becoming clear that it never intended to come. We were all alone. So ******** alone. At least the world beyond the mirror was something different. Worse, but different.
