Hello once again to another backlog, this time one that takes a play on an age old saying that has plagued many of our childhoods. Much like the other fairy tale or childlike stories that I did in the past, this one is very much one that has many themes and symbols that is very much not considered safe for children to know. Though, at the same time, this piece is very cryptic in why the main character is doing this, and whether I am implying that this is a world filled with mysticism, or the character is stuck in his own twisted world. Anyway, here you go, “Mirror, Mirror”.
Can you tell me who’s the loneliest of all? I reached into my pocket, and took out my stopwatch. Except, I’d be lying if I said I carried a stopwatch. That’s a bit too old fashioned. It was in the shape of a stopwatch, but when I flipped it open, it was a mirror. I looked into the mirror, and saw a clear reflection of myself. I had short black hair, light skin, clear eyes, and a skinny face. Everything was set in stone, an image that was undeniably human. Like a rendered photo of a man who just so happened to be looking at himself. Almost as if breathing, the picture shot out at me.
I placed my mirror back in my pocket, and then looked around to my surroundings. I was at the park, just sitting on a bench early in the morning, on my day off. I didn’t have plans, but, I knew that staying inside wasn’t going to do me much. If I could, I would simply sit and stare up into the sky, basking in the warm air around me for all eternity. But I can’t. Not today, not tomorrow, or even the day before. Life moves on, and, I have to move on.
That day, I went to the graveyard, to pay my respects to those that have long past. I treaded rows and rows of gravestones, reading aloud each name, but, not stopping for any of them. My foot stamped on the arid dirt, and as my legs moved forward, the only thing on my mind was that I wanted it all to be over.
I eventually reached the tombstone of which I was affiliated with, stopped, and read it aloud. This time, I took extra care to pronounce each letter with grace, and arrogance. Absolutely acrimonious. I then spit on the tombstone, and placed my foot over it, making sure I didn’t apply enough force to topple it, but, enough force so that I could rest one hand over my knee and smugly laugh at it. And so I did, raising all the dead, and, turning all the heads to my contrived madness. There was no method in my madness. I laughed, and rung out an insidious shrill across all ears, and, somewhere beneath, I imagined a shifting of dirt. That made me laugh harder.
Once I was done my fit of induced insanity, I took out my mirror. The glass itself was undeniably clear, though now, the reflection of myself was darker. My black hair had gotten blacker, my light skin had become a tan, my clear eyes were murky, and my skinny face was becoming emaciated. I placed the mirror back in my pocket, and continued on my day.
I didn’t have plans, though I knew the town enough that I would naturally converge to certain areas. One of which was the graveyard. And, my second stop, was the open bar. It was open all day, which was a commodity in these times of strife. I entered, and nodded to the bartender as I sat down. He was wiping a glass, and, without even asking me, poured me a shot. I smiled, and placed a few notes for him, and then took a swig. The burning yellow liquid slid down my throat like a knife. It was quaintly amusing. After the first, I took a huge sigh, and then, after signaling for another, downed the second without hesitation. My head was spinning now. And I felt my face light up like a cherry. I laughed, softly to myself, and then brought out my mirror. The bartender left at this point, understanding my perfunctory. My vision was blurry, and it was hard to keep focus on any single point within the mirror, but once I had what resembled an image, I smiled. My black hair was now just a drape of shadow on my head. My skin had gone completely charred, and my eyes were a pile of ash. My face, could not be distinguished as a face, but rather a hideous malformation of a face. I smiled in the mirror, and watched as my reflection curled up and sent a smile back. I got up from my seat and then left.
There was still one more place I needed to go. One more place so that I had the perfect image in the mirror. I didn’t have plans, though my body knew exactly where it wanted to go, and so I had no choice but to abide by it. The final landing was at the local daycare center. Like clockwork, my body knew where to stop, and where to breath. The children began pouring out, and my face contorted into a wide smile. Lots of little ones that day, little boys and girls. My breathing began fluctuating, and something began strutting out of my pants. The teachers hadn’t noticed me yet, and so I continued to stare, engraving their faces, their smiles, and their laughter into my mantra. Once I was satisfied, I took out my mirror. It was complete. My magnum opus. My entire being was shadows. Not a single speck of light escaped. Except, when I smiled, a curved line formed to my cheeks. I stared at that image, of overshadowing darkness, of complete misanthropy. Then, I put the mirror back in my pocket, and trudged my way back home. My drudgery only ended when I was dead.