Mirror

Clouds of fog frame the oval face in the surface, reflecting glistening light and shades of Naples yellow into the hollow room. Like mists wavering across mountains in Van Gogh’s paintings they occlude sclera as moons do to suns during eclipses in the noonday heat. Subdued, the pupils peer through the fading mists into the holes opposite them, sinking into a glare of contemplation; a web of fractals intertwined with stalactites spreading into the thin night. 

“Do it. I dare you,” it said, looking back at her.

“Do it.”

Clinging to the sink she looked back at the reflection in the mirror, and chose to sing. It kept her at ease, keeping the dark ones at bay, since young in the crib near the window where angels dare not tread. 

“Do it,” it challenged again.

Sweat rolled down her forehead as she gripped the cold ceramic hard. Beyond the mists two horns peeked. Sharp and enticing, a silent rip echoed in the air as they reverberated the dare through the stillness, beckoning a wave of quiet nostalgia. 

But she would not succumb.

Forcing herself away from the mirror, she felt each finger rip away in rubbery streaks, as though a layer of plastic peeled away from the clinical material, bit by bit, edge by edge, drawing along the contour of the curved basin. Finally, all ten fingers were free, with the last leaving a shrill whine trailing behind as her eyes stared ahead. 

Bit by bit it began to disappear, blurring into the cloud of thickening mists. 

Soon, it will be dawn, she thought.

Her feet took flight, each step sinking into the damp earth that met their might. 

Each step echoing loudly in the long corridor, lengthening towards the light.

Not tonight. 

~

We all have dark nights and dark times. Each second we are growing, and the direction of our growth depends on the conscious choice that we make. Bit by bit it is possible to grow towards the light.