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It took all the strength in my body to open this door, so how exactly did I expect my fingers to perform the delicate act of flicking the light switch? I thought I could cope with this, knowing what is in here. It seems I was wrong.
Everyone assured me it would be fine, but everyone’s not here. The drugs of choice wore off before I even stood in the doorway. My own home, now a scene of trepidation and fear. But this room, this room in particular is where the fear radiates from.
They don’t know what’s in here. Perhaps if they did, they wouldn’t have been so cheerful for me, coming home after months of staring at those walls and seeing the forever friendly faces smiling their professional smiles. ‘The eye sees what it wants to see’ they tell me. I thank them for their metaphysical nonsense and wave them away.
And yet I still find myself here. I wonder how long I’ve been here, in the dark. The watch on my hand is audibly ticking but it means nothing to me. What I face now is worse than any of those B-movie monsters I loved as a kid. It horrifies me more than any two-bit horror novel. But my destiny is to face it and, despite my own limbs rejecting the idea, my brain knows better. Light will wake it, but light is the only object I can use to confront it.
So my hand falteringly reaches for the switch, finds it, applies pressure. With the blinding rays the monster is woken. I stare, wide eyed in knowing fear. It stares back in rage. I try to turn away, but its stare is fixed on me, whenever I move, it moves. The skin is all wrong, the sags, burns and bandages hide deeper cuts. Its mouth forever contorted in to a horrifying grin. But the eyes, they are the worst. They tell far more than I dare read. My body gives way and I feel the constrictions tear at my stomach, forcing me to curl up. All the time it watches me and I watch it and I know, I know it will never leave for it is my reflection and this mirror is my cage.
Everyone assured me it would be fine, but everyone’s not here. The drugs of choice wore off before I even stood in the doorway. My own home, now a scene of trepidation and fear. But this room, this room in particular is where the fear radiates from.
They don’t know what’s in here. Perhaps if they did, they wouldn’t have been so cheerful for me, coming home after months of staring at those walls and seeing the forever friendly faces smiling their professional smiles. ‘The eye sees what it wants to see’ they tell me. I thank them for their metaphysical nonsense and wave them away.
And yet I still find myself here. I wonder how long I’ve been here, in the dark. The watch on my hand is audibly ticking but it means nothing to me. What I face now is worse than any of those B-movie monsters I loved as a kid. It horrifies me more than any two-bit horror novel. But my destiny is to face it and, despite my own limbs rejecting the idea, my brain knows better. Light will wake it, but light is the only object I can use to confront it.
So my hand falteringly reaches for the switch, finds it, applies pressure. With the blinding rays the monster is woken. I stare, wide eyed in knowing fear. It stares back in rage. I try to turn away, but its stare is fixed on me, whenever I move, it moves. The skin is all wrong, the sags, burns and bandages hide deeper cuts. Its mouth forever contorted in to a horrifying grin. But the eyes, they are the worst. They tell far more than I dare read. My body gives way and I feel the constrictions tear at my stomach, forcing me to curl up. All the time it watches me and I watch it and I know, I know it will never leave for it is my reflection and this mirror is my cage.
Excellently weaved story-ette :-)
Always nice to read pb stuff.
Great ending, too - could have gone so many ways, I think you chose the best.
Great ending, too - could have gone so many ways, I think you chose the best.
That was good, very enjoyable. I found myself wondering what it could be, wonderign if maybe it would have a comic ending (facing his wife -for instance) but thought this was far more effective.
Yeah, nice.
Seamless use of words from start to finish.
And just, yeah, great.
Seamless use of words from start to finish.
And just, yeah, great.
Nicely depicted strange and haunting moment.
Wonderful. You should write more stuff, pb.
Wonderful.
Lubbly jubbly.
It took all the strength in my body to open this door, so how exactly did I expect my fingers to perform the delicate act of flicking the light switch? I thought I could cope with this, knowing what is in here. It seems I was wrong.
Everyone assured me it would be fine, but everyone’s not here. The drugs of choice wore off before I even stood in the doorway. My own home, now a scene of trepidation and fear. But this room, this room in particular is where the fear radiates from.
They don’t know what’s in here. Perhaps if they did, they wouldn’t have been so cheerful for me, coming home after months of staring at those walls and seeing the forever friendly faces smiling their professional smiles. ‘The eye sees what it wants to see’ they tell me. I thank them for their metaphysical nonsense and wave them away.
And yet I still find myself here. I wonder how long I’ve been here, in the dark. The watch on my hand is audibly ticking but it means nothing to me. What I face now is worse than any of those B-movie monsters I loved as a kid. It horrifies me more than any two-bit horror novel. But my destiny is to face it and, despite my own limbs rejecting the idea, my brain knows better. Light will wake it, but light is the only object I can use to confront it.
So my hand falteringly reaches for the switch, finds it, applies pressure. With the blinding rays the monster is woken. I stare, wide eyed in knowing fear. It stares back in rage. I try to turn away, but its stare is fixed on me, whenever I move, it moves. The skin is all wrong, the sags, burns and bandages hide deeper cuts. Its mouth forever contorted in to a horrifying grin. But the eyes, they are the worst. They tell far more than I dare read. My body gives way and I feel the constrictions tear at my stomach, forcing me to curl up. All the time it watches me and I watch it and I know, I know it will never leave for it is my reflection and this mirror is my cage.
Everyone assured me it would be fine, but everyone’s not here. The drugs of choice wore off before I even stood in the doorway. My own home, now a scene of trepidation and fear. But this room, this room in particular is where the fear radiates from.
They don’t know what’s in here. Perhaps if they did, they wouldn’t have been so cheerful for me, coming home after months of staring at those walls and seeing the forever friendly faces smiling their professional smiles. ‘The eye sees what it wants to see’ they tell me. I thank them for their metaphysical nonsense and wave them away.
And yet I still find myself here. I wonder how long I’ve been here, in the dark. The watch on my hand is audibly ticking but it means nothing to me. What I face now is worse than any of those B-movie monsters I loved as a kid. It horrifies me more than any two-bit horror novel. But my destiny is to face it and, despite my own limbs rejecting the idea, my brain knows better. Light will wake it, but light is the only object I can use to confront it.
So my hand falteringly reaches for the switch, finds it, applies pressure. With the blinding rays the monster is woken. I stare, wide eyed in knowing fear. It stares back in rage. I try to turn away, but its stare is fixed on me, whenever I move, it moves. The skin is all wrong, the sags, burns and bandages hide deeper cuts. Its mouth forever contorted in to a horrifying grin. But the eyes, they are the worst. They tell far more than I dare read. My body gives way and I feel the constrictions tear at my stomach, forcing me to curl up. All the time it watches me and I watch it and I know, I know it will never leave for it is my reflection and this mirror is my cage.