The Mirror

There was only one rule: don't open the door.

No one knew what was behind it, but the smears of red didn't give any comfort. But every day, or at least what I think is day, there is a small tapping on the other side of the door.

taptaptap. taptaptap.

I thought it was the mice who crawl across my toes and between the cracks in the walls but they disappeared long ago. And still, taptaptap. taptaptap.

I tapped back. I scratched at the surface and pushed my ever growing nails under the edge only to be met with silence, my nails bringing back nothing but black ooze.

I stare at the door and see the others. Their faces lifeless, small, agonized in their failed quest. The tapping mocks them. Mocks me and my ability to leave.

taptaptap. taptaptap. Again and again. Quiet, unyielding, patterned so aimlessly.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

Breathing too fast to hear the others I freeze. The tile under my nails too hard, too rough, too solid to free me.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

A flicker of light, swinging, moving, that's new.

I scramble to turn, a rustled scraping sound as my nails drag across the floor to face the new sound. Arching up I see why my taptaptap has eluded me.

The door was closed, still sealed. With me safely inside.

I raise my eyes to the creaking. I smile a toothless grin, its okay. The strange noise just a light, swaying but not opening. I look forward again. There stands the door, like always, mirrored, watching me. My nails reaching for the smooth surface, somehow all around me. When did the door begin to surround me? I watch myself watching me. Tapping.

Tap. Tap. Tap.