Crow Moon and Harvest Moon

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. She was beautiful, broken, fractured and wistfully reflective. Is she not after all, ME? That me that hides deep inside, the me that only the mirrored image of myself really sees.

I have long stopped asking that question. I know not the answer, there are so many enticing and disturbing facets to her in the mirror. Sometimes she presents to me as an indecorous male antagonist, brooding and demanding, another willful side of me.

The mirror knows my secret. Would you like me to tell you what I do when the world is asleep and only the prowlers, the moon and stars watch me in complete horror and despair. Come closer, no, even closer. Now listen, for you will only hear this once, and once only.

I listened really intently that first time that she spoke of whispered, risque, audacious and indelicate mentions of terrible things. Was it her who spoke, or was it really me, denying the real monster hiding where no one but me and her can see. She haunts me, has done so for as long as I can remember. I haunt her, constantly seeking her out in mirrors just to get a glimpse of her perfection, her approval, her evil malevolent ecstasy that brings out the devil in me and leaves me wanting more. The desire to please her is insatiable and I am whole only when joined with her in propagating the unholy.

She laughs raucously, loudly and so very unladylike. Cackling like a witch as she watches me squirm. How lovely she is on the outside, yet black as tarry midnight's dark and foreboding moonless sky on the inside.

We have lived for hundreds of years, inside and outside of the mirror. Outside no one knows of our binary and duality of existence. We never age, we just are. We desire no specific mirror to see ourselves. The world has provided us with the means to exist, with their incessant desire to always look at and admire their mirrored selves. Their vanity has fed us through many a Millennia, and will continue on through time immemorial.

OUR HOUSE, stately, elegant, dark and eerily aristocratic, a facade of wealth and success, well manicured lawns forever paying homage to it's aging majesty.

Deep below this lovely brooding house, tendrils of fingerlike elegant hellfire vines sprout and grow from the basement floor, escaping happily from what lies beneath, they cling desperately to the sides of the walls of the house. The plants germinate and grow from the bodies buried deep below the basement floor.

Every Hunger moon, the Full moon, I lure and entice young eager lovers to their doom. The mirror sits below and eagerly await our arrival.

The basement has beautifully adorned walls, with pictures of death depicted in many gruesome ways. They are always fascinated, these grasping love starved mass, snapping pictures for their infernal selfies, these vain creatures. A few are judgmental, those are the ones we love the best, we feed on their self-righteousness. She hypnotizes them, lures them into our web of deceit. Sometimes we bring in a group and have really wild and naughty parties.

Then slowly, we drain them of their essences, their souls, their very life force. It billows forth like wistful white smoke, rising from their depth and swallowed deliciously and life prolonging by us three. Me, she and him. It is divinely euphoric, the taste of a human soul as it fills your waning form and rejuvenates with pure and impure essences. For some of your souls are dark indeed, dark deeds are bared naked when the essence departs your bodies.

A gaping black hole of unholiness opens beneath the middle of the innocent looking floor. Call it a portal to hell if you wish. The dried out husks of depleted bodies are thrust into the pits of burning fire beneath. It is a fire that brings the dead to life, burns but does not consume the flesh of the ones thrown unwillingly and unwittingly into its depth. A fire from which hell's vines grow into the mortal world.

We are sated until the next Wolf Moon.

Now that I have whispered my secret, our secret to you. We cannot let you live.

Beware the many moons to come, the Snow Moon, Sap Moon, Crow Moon, Hunters Moon and Harvest Moon, but especially the Old Moon. For I will come for you all.

Maybe I will feed on you now, my erstwhile lover. Now that you know the truth.

I had lingered a while with this one. There was something different and fascinating in it that awakened long passions past and forgotten. I wanted to taste it again.

The mirror screamed her dissatisfaction quite loudly. My lover covered her nakedness.

The malevolent me stepped from the mirror. In anger she tries to devour you.

We are now locked in a vicious fight, me, her and him. For your soul. What have you done to me. The black hole is beginning its dance of burning hell. Must this be our end?

Will we die as you watch?

Forgetting your nakedness, you fly to me, hold onto me, and pull at me with all your mortal strength.

Now we may all fall to hell.

The evil mirror sits quietly and watches. It figures that finally, it can return to being just a mirror, not a pawn to this ungodly existence.

It takes impious bets with it's other self on who will win this unholy war!