Henry

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic


I am writing this in my private diary to keep a secret, except perhaps for future society who have already discovered it. Here I tell you a story on my discovery which was not very long ago, perhaps a month’s past. 
 
It feels so colorful and vivid, and as real as anything is. The way things feel so solid, doors and windows, a kettle. It felt real when I touched my own skin, as though I had an innate knowledge that I was a whole person. However, upon walking past my mirror I saw him (my own reflection) looking back at me. So, I slowly approached the mirror, and stood to check with hesitance our movements. In sudden strange curiosity I pulled my lower eyelids down to peek into his deep brown eyes, and found he blinked back at me at the very last moment. I checked again by waving with one slow motion of my hand, a small hello, a silly hesitation of my own eyes; but there again at the last moment was a pause of his hand.  
 
I put my hand to the mirror on fascination, and upon the action realized that it was not solid. In fact, upon realizing the fluid motion of the mirror I gasped, as it was quite liquified. Had I ever touched it before? Surely, I had, I have lived in this home for five years, I passed this mirror every day- and still here I am. So, I slowly put my fingers to the glass and let my hand be absorbed by what felt like water. It was cool on my hand, and felt as sharp as ice. He was staring at me with wide eyes- terrifying eyes, and so I brought my hand back quickly. I held it cradled in my arms as if I had been injured.  
 
I keep a sheet over the mirror, and pass it every day. I walk past with my morning coffee most days, and I look at the sheet as I sip. Sometimes at night I can hear bubbling, and I find myself awake suddenly, staring at its blank white color as if it were as deep as black. It sounds as a gargling does, a deep desperation, a horrid sound. Neighbors come by but, upon pity perhaps, ignore that it is there. I can see them looking at it as if they can sense something, as if they fancy to pull the sheet down- I will not let them. They would suffer a fright, and just as I had upon discovering it. In fact, if I should feel so right in timing, I should tell my neighbors to steer clear of their own mirrors. You see, it was not my own reflection that startled me the most, merely that what it had shown to me was almost normal, and yet it was not! If my dear Chelsea knew that her world was- my poor love would not stand for it. No, I think I will keep this hidden. 


Submitted: September 14, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Flambe. All rights reserved.

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