It's so dark. Not like a lightless room, no. In fact, I can see, but also I can't. My hand moves through the thick fog with a dreamlike slowness. I can't remember anything? Where am I? Who am I? The wind howls in my ears, boring into my soul. I can't feel it, but I can hear it, see it whipping the fog into a billowing Curtain. But the fog will never clear and the Curtain will never lift. I can't see anything Beyond the Curtain, but I know whats out there, plotting, waiting, lurking. They creep in the fog with ease, for it is their home. And soon it shall be mine. I cannot resist the call of The Curtain, beckoning me forward, to walk amongst the denizens of the Beyond. It breaths my name, urging me, tempting me to join the rest. They're watching me. I can feel their hateful stares, burning into my body, leaving me tainted with their evils. So I just keep moving. Not walking, but moving. Moving, but not walking. I glide along, but my feet never leave the ground. Or touch it. What ground? I see a figure approaching. I can feel sin radiating off of it. Finally, the Curtain lifts and I see it. I look at it, and it looks back. It is the true embodiment of evil. It is Satan. It is Lust. It is Gluttony, Sloth, Wrath. I reach out to touch its outstretched hand. It is Hatred, Envy, Pride, Greed. I touch my fingers to its, as its smile widens. It is War, Pestilence, Famine, Death. The glass of the mirror cracks under the touch of my hand, my world shattering around me, leaving me falling. It is Me.
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Short Story / Editorial and Opinion
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