Seperated at Mind

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Sometimes the truth can be hidden well when the mind refuses to believe it.

Submitted: November 19, 2007

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Submitted: November 19, 2007

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Seperated At Mind
By AJ Peaslee
 2005

I stared at the mirror blankly. The face looking back at me was frigid, his chin was shaped roughly, his face was covered in a stuble, and his eyes were a light and misty grey.  His hair was black and feathered, tossed about and whirled by what could have been mistaken by a tornado of tossing and tunring. Who is this man? Who are you? Why am I here? How can I be there? Help me!

The mirror fades to nothing now, just an icy and gripping blackness, a swallower of dreams and hopes. Suddenly it smashes and the shards fade into splatters of blood. What was happening here? Who am I?

I am awoken by this bizarre nightmare nearly every night. The visons plague my mind and soul countlessly throughout my day, hindering my work and socal life. The only thing that remains is……Who am I?
I am Aubrey Micheals, and I need to tell you my story.

2:45 and the alarm goes off. I wake up in the darkness of my room, cold due to the fan that is ever running. A cheesy sleep aid, but it helps. The comforter is toasty, but I radiate a lot of body heat. It flies off and I stand up. My room is small, but lovely. I have posters of most rock bands, from Quiet Riot to Black Sabbath, they always seem to glow in here. I walk over to the door, but once again, a photo resting on the wooden nightstand catches my eye. A beautifull woman is smiling in it with me, her long brown hair and fine lips still shimmer even in the darkness. She was happy, was.
My wife left me…..the nightmares….couldn’t deal with my depression and sudden change in mood. I’am sorry things went like this…..I cried, I won’t hide it….I miss her….

I shake my head and continue on my path, I head into the bathroom. Going from my bedroom to the bathroom was a real treat. I couldn’t see my frigate, freezer, or even my hands and bare legs. I hate the dark, but at 27 what can I do? Hide under my sheets? Get a grip Aubrey.

I rush into the bathroom and close the door. I somehow flick the light on simultaneously and then turn the faucet on. The water is cold, but feels good on my face. I look into the mirror and see a familiar face, dripping wet and looking like a drowned rat. I snicker at that comment.
Suddenly, my chest gets tight, and feels like someone is pulling on it from the inside. My head violently aches and throbs, and my eyes begin to twitch and shake in a fit of what could be a seizure. The room fades to black. I try not to look at the mirror…..not again….no….

I see that face again….the same face like always. Something is different this time…..his eyes look….no, they are completely white. Blood begins to run out of them and snake down his chin….What the hell is this?!

The mirror is slowly devoured by a strange black webbing and it vanishes with the face. I’am alone….in the blackness again….but what now?

I hear a voice….a sweet and tender voice that makes my heart jump with excitement. Linda…..my wife…is calling my name…..but how? And why?

The comforter flies off again and I raise in a cold sweat. My eyes quickly look about the room nervously, and my hands twitch with fear. As I put my hand to the bed to make myself sit up, I feel something….wet.

I raise my hand to see what it is…..its too dark to see, but the luqid is black, or at least a dark color. I run with haste to the light switch and turn it on. My eyes widen and what I see is…..fresh blood, and not my own.

I check myself all over, no cuts, no digs, nothing. Not even a paper cut. Where did the blood come from? I panic, and burst out the bedroom door and back into the bathroom once more. I wash my hand off, and wonder what is happening to me. Maybe I’am going insane…..maybe I’am hurting myself and ignoring it….

I fall to the floor and let out a deep sigh. I hold my head up with my hands, and wish it would all go away. At that moment, its almost as if the darkness answers me, and the room fades again.

This time, its not me in the mirror, but my wife. She looks like she does in my photo of her. I attempt to reach out and touch her once more, but something pushes me back. Her flesh begins to drip and melt like candle wax, and blood runs down like a waterfall of life force down her face. Behind her, a figure appears, I can’t make out his face, but he stabs her repeatedly in the back with a large knife, a hunting type.

His face becomes unblurred and I can see him. I gasp with surprise and tumble backwards. I shake violently and begin to whimper. It can’t be….no way in a million years….I didn’t do  that…….

The comforter stays put, the fan still whirls with air, the room is still dark, and its still 2:45 am. The room is motionless now. I stare blankly at the ceiling. That stops too, after that, I’am never waking up again….swallowed by the darkness.

+The End+


© Copyright 2018 Aubrey Jack Peaslee. All rights reserved.

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