The Reflection Knows: A Mirror's Truth Can Shatter Reality

The Reflection Knows: A Mirror's Truth Can Shatter Reality

The old mirror hums along with a diminished, persistent bass. I'm going to inherit it from my grandmother, who always warns me that it's too deep. '' I'll laugh, of course:). The story of the old woman.

They're hanging in my dim hallway now, a Gothic freak with a tarnished silver frame. But I was pulled in by it. Every morning, I take five hundred pauses before I go. I'm not going to check my appearance, despite the fact that I'm trying to find out what I look like. The outer layer seemed to be wrong. Rather than a perfect contemplation, there was always a elusive distortion in the present, a fleeting grin in the mirror image of my own reflection.

Every night I can't sleep. The hum was booming, the vibration coming from the floor. I stumble through the hall, attracted to the mirror, preferring moths to fire.

The thought was not subtle during the present interval. It was a convulsion of silent screams, eyes wide with a ghastly panic in my encounter. But that wasn't the wrong part. The environment was unique. A sterile white room replaced my own hallway. I've seen a figure in a white blouse, their face obscured by a surgical mask, moving around a figure strap to get a spreadsheet. I'm more comfortable with a figure that seems disturbing.

Panic clawed at my throat. I reached out, my fingertips brushing against the cold glass.

"Help me," the reflection mouthed, the words forming perfectly, unnervingly. "Please."

I am driven by Cardinal fear and will smash glass with my fist. The noise's going up, the room's about me, and the film's over. The reflected figure stopped, turned its cloaked face toward me, toward him.

Suddenly, the mirror shattered.

Glass rained down around me. The hallway dissolved.

I stood in a sterile white room, hearing the sound of a deafening screech. A figure in a white coat hurried toward me, revealing their cloaked faces now. They've been kind, you see.

'' topic 42 be a discovery '' one of them says, her voice calm and proficient. Administration of the sedative. ''.

The figure standing on the furniture, strapped depressed and fighting, was me. Alternatively, it might have been me.

'They're saying the treatment is working, '' the doctor continued, '' adjust my own reins ''. ?? you finally embrace the world. ''.

My reality? This sterile room? These doctors?

A shard of broken mirror on the floor flickers in my eye. My own thoughts turned backward, my mouth exposed by a silent scream. The hall, the Gothic mirror, the humming, all were real. It was my very own world then.

The ataractic grasp clasp, pull I subordinate. I saw contemplation in the shards of an eye as I watched the film of my insight.