[Redpyramidhead]

Hello. I am back with the next portion of this story added. It is still in rough form so yes, I realize that it would probably give an english teacher nightmare as it currently is. I will post the entire thing as it is now.

BTW, this is a work of FICTION...the reason the main character is not yet named remains to be seen for suspense issues.


THE MIRROR

by

Redpyramidhead


Chapeter 1

Sometimes, It troubles me...to look at myself in that mirror. Any mirror is bound to have an effect on one's self based on how critical you are of your past mistakes, your present misfortunes or misguidedness, and things that you fear you may do in the future. Rarely does a mirror have the quality being to force the one in it to contfront this future, though, in such a manner as the one that rests against the wall behind the sink in my personal restroom. This room adjoins to the far corner of my bedroom, in my modest, yet comfortable 5 room apartment. There is another door on the opposite end of it leading to a second bedroom not currently in use as a bedroom, but as a cheap recording studio and study. Lately, I had not been in there. Not for a couple weeks. I had almost forgotten what it looked like.

Some mornings, just as in anybody's life, the only thing one can do is crawl to the sink and splash the cold water of the tap upon their face and hope it brings you back from your dreams. Most mornings, however, it is hard to not ask myself the question 'back to what?' Then one simply looks up agonizingly slowly in that frozen moment, that repeats itself each day, and stares into one's own sunken and exhausted eyes. What indeed. Maybe the simple fact that this transition from arguing the reality of one's dreams to arguing the reality of one's day occurs in much the same way every single day of your life, when you wake up, suggests that this very action or cycle is outside the laws of time itself. It is part of another you that wonders all the time that does not adhere to the normal laws of time of the day and, if you are slave to it, you find yourself back in bed. The rest of the world's time goes on outside your apartments walls and opportunities are lost for another you who simply isn't there in that world to miss them.

Slapping my face hard now with the cold water, having let it run almost to freezing. My hands may be numb by the cold, but their adrenaline to move sharply into my face quickens, and so do the awakening blood cells around my cheeks, mouth, and eyes. I'm flexing my jaw muscles now and baring my teeth at my image in the mirror, sufficiently scaring it away with the reality that I am awake and hostile. It turns away and looks ahead into the day. I was ready for anything if I could just get into that shower. I threw the curtain open. Once again, like my rational side had expected, there were no sadly deformed demons making mad passionate love while indulging in a mess of a bathtub full of the blood of my lost and unremembered nightmares and dreams. Like always, there was simply a somewhat unkept bathtub with a half-clogged drain, full of hair and everything else you would expect to find. I wondered if it were possible to lose one's rationality to the point where they would fully expect something out of the ordinary and, for their achievement, would see something straight out of a dream. The impossible.

I went straight to bed that evening at a reasonable time considering. I began my descent.


Chapter 2

The thing about descending into sleep is that it can only be done safely when one is not simultaneously ascending...

A dream is a type of place where emotions are amplified. Everything you do or fail to do or even simply observe, has either extra intense feelings of happiness and pleasure tied to them or simply unforveable amounts of guilt dealt in heavy blows to your very soul. When one dissapoints themselves through actions in a dream, it is in this sense more real to you than when it happens while awake. Trying to convince one's self that one is not entirely responsible for one's actions and a dream and that they are much less guilty of any kind of sin if they simply dreamed it, is a very hard thing to do. It is especially hard, when you are still caught in the transition of waking up.

I lay in a meadow, somewhere in a valley between mountains. The son was hot and bearing almost straight down, but I was stripped of my shirt and in my bare feet and felt way too much at peace with my surroundings to care about any discomfort. Occasionally, the wind swept by, and I felt like some kind of entity in an ocean of nature surrounding me and encircling me into its cycle. The wind was licking me like waves of this ocean as I lay there on the shore of solace. How quick this immense thing, mother earth, seemed to be to forgive me for all my past sins against it and the cradle it wanted me to embrace all along. Here, it offered this cradle back to me through words spoken on the wind, movement of trees, songbirds, and it's all encompassing blanket of love for all of its creatures. Never before had I felt all at once so proud to be one of these creatures.

The matted grass on my back was a little rough and the creeping of unknown insects in the tall meadow around me eventually started to become unnerving again. It was now much the same way it had been right before I had ventured to lay down on my back here and ignore my usual reservations of doing so. It was all rapidly coming back to me at once at such an alarming rate that my previous tears of joy had now stopped and all I felt was their wretched residue left behind on my face.
What was one to do at that point? I felt as though I was being swarmed and crawled upon by things I was not ready for, but I could not see these things.

Mother Earth, in one last desperate attempt to comfort me, sent a messenger of love to my very hand. Something more tangible it hoped I could understand. A large butterfly, with wings of unimaginable beauty, so obviously created and being a creature of something so devine and beyond my ability to behold at that moment, flapped its wings gently at me and began to sing. The spirals of colours on its wings changed with the music and all its intricacies, excited by them and enrgized with healing and other powers and happiness. These spiraling colors mixed hues and made patterns spiraling into themselves and back out again in impossible ways. True happiness was being exhibited by this lifeform that I had no right to take away, so I tried so desperately to listen and understand.

We were alone now, in a place of death, save for that butterfly who kept singing to me now louder than ever. Now it had lost some of it's gracefulness and seemed almost afraid. Afraid that if it did not sing loud enough, it's listener would hear other things in the background that it should not hear at that moment. I became afraid and listened intently to find that whispers were coming from all around me, frighteningly close and breathing in my ear. Things had begun to crawl again that could not be seen. No, there were movements in line of site that did not belong there. These eyes, having been awakened to the point of seeing beyond conventional dimensional thinking to uncomprehensible amounts, no longer had control. Will of right and wrong had now lost its importance to me. Sore eyes quickened in pace, vibrating at unimaginable speeds, essentially seeing in all directions at once. No apparitions could hide from me now. I could see glimpses of them all and I could not turn it off.

"Let iiiiiit sing! Oh God...please let her singggg!!!!"

Despite my 3rd dimensional self's pleaing, I could see nothing but ugliness now from that graceful butterfly. It's wings took a backburner to all hell and all hell could muster at that moment had arrived in that very place of death and I knew that I was going to do it even before I started. Pulling apart those wings and crumpling them within these hands was way too easy and felt way too pleasing as it fed my adrenaline rushed muscles and teared beneath unkept fingernails and jagged teeth. Glaring down now at what was left of this beautiful and fragile butterfly, a calling came from somewhere else, and at the realization of what I had done along with the guilt pooring in at the very thought of finishing this creature of pure love off, I sunk into myself, heartbroken. I felt, as I awoke, that if I awakened improperly at this critical moment, I might bare for the entire world to see my terrible sin.


Chapter 3


This time I had had enough. These dreams would never cease to haunt me and the very notion that their emotional effect on me was very real and something I could not tell where the irrational ended and the rational began, I believed all of it for a good long couple hours that morning. I began to go through in my mind what to tell people who had known me for so long and believed I was a good person. I worried that I betrayed those very people that I loved by not letting them know what I had done in complete and utter cold blood. One does not at this point stop to ask questions about whether they are losing their mind. They simply believe that this is the way it is supposed to be.

'Go ahead. I dare you. Throw the curtain open now while you still believe!' Somewhere from deep inside me began to cackle a mocking voice which somehow had managed to inspire me to mouth those very words and smile in a way that would make your devil proud while doing it.


To Be Continued....


Stay tuned, guyz...


_RED_ stuff