[Redpyramidhead]

Continued from last post...

Hi Everyone. The Mirror returns in a new revised and edited (with some additions) form with a continuation, as well.


Songs were sung in such whimsical and lovely spirit and I felt honoured to be the one this creature wished to share such a personal performance with me. I waited for more song as storm now approached on the horizon. I did not expect this to discourage my new friend from singing, but before I could blink the storm was upon us, and rather than feeling at one with its rain, this storm had no rain and violent dischord which was not of the musical kind began to pour heavily upon us in waves of dizzines. The butterfly and I phased out of that place and relocated then, accompanied with the weird feeling that somebody or soemthing had merely dimmed some lights and a quick scene change was taking place as if in a play, but with no audience.

I was alone now, in a place of death, save for that butterfly who had begun singing to me again now louder than ever. It had lost some of it's gracefulness and rythmn in its song 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. Things it was not ready to deal with or perhaps no one should ever have to deal with. I became afraid and did exactly what my instincts had told me I was supposed to avoid and listened intently to find that whispers were coming from all around and breathing from frighteningly close by. Things had begun to crawl again. They were ready to swarm at any moment and do things that should never be done by things that cannot be seen. No, there were movements in line of site that did not belong there, awareness of them not confined to the corners of my eyes. These eyes, having been awakened to the point of seeing beyond conventional dimensional thinking to uncomprehensible amounts, no longer had control. Sore eyes quickened in pace, vibrating at unimaginable speeds, essentially seeing in all directions at once. Will of right and wrong in this moment began to lose its importance. No apparitions could hide from me now. Glimpses of them all were being caught left and right in slower and slower moving movements and it could not be turned off. Not now. Not beyond this point of no return. So I begged for an out...

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

Despite the pleaing of my third dimensional self, 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 all too easy and all too pleasing as it fed my adrenaline rush and tearing beneath unkept fingernails and jagged teeth ensued. Glaring down now at what was left of this beautiful and fragile butterfly, a calling came from somewhere else came to me, and at the realization of what I had done along with the guilt pouring in as a great flood at the very thought of finishing this creature of pure love off and putting an end to its life, I sunk into myself, heartbroken. The image of a butterfly, stripped of its life's song, looking beyond repair, was the last thing I saw. The moan of utter and total guilt and sadness in one of its most primal forms awoke me. 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 - meet Armelia


I sat on the living room couch munching on cold cereal. I had drowned it in sugar and sat there ruining my teeth which I was not sure I would have the will to brush that day making it all the more a reminder of my personal sloth. 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 at times before allowing myself to forget it as the day went on. 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, be it in a dream or not. 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.

A face with sunken in eyes that ached, felt filled with crust from sleep, with dark and obvious black circles beneath them, bloodshot and burning, and watering. A face with ears that clearly showed dried earwax, a nose with untrimmed nose hairs and mucus running out, unshaven, matted and entangled hair, unkept teeth jagged and yellow, rotten and decaying, cold sweat pasted on, and tear-stained skin red in shame. A face that did not belong in a mirror. A face that could have things on it that are said to be impossible outside the world of dreams, for better or worse.

'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 wickedly to mouth those very words and smile in a way that would make the foulest and toothiest fiend proud.

Continued in next post...

_RED_ stuff