|
Mystery of the Mirror
"Mystery of the Mirror" by Icon Ortega
A second world. I had found a second world.
I visited the antique shop beside the bookstore I frequented to kill time and found it there.
At first glance, it was just a mirror, albeit a beautifully made one; smooth, teak wood, framing a sleek, silver-like surface. I noticed something special, however, for my eyes lingered longer than a mere passing gaze.
In truth, they were all menial details. So ignorable, so easily dismissed… perhaps this was the reason why they were the things I immediately took note of.
Altogether, there were three “differences”, so to speak.
The first was the school seal sewn unto my uniform’s breast pocket. It changed. From an eagle, it morphed and distorted into something indistinguishable and barely there. From a proud, glossy blue, it dulled to near nothingness, leaving more of a blank than an outline.
The second was my left arm. Aside from looking bulkier and more muscular, there was a tip of what I gathered was a scar under the sleeve. It looked like it was made by a deep gash; even from what little was actually visible that was obvious. I knew my own body. I never had such a serious cut there.
The last, though, had to be the most troubling. There was a tinge of red on the tips of my fingers. It was hard to notice it with my left hand resting in my pocket, and the right balled into a fist as it held onto a plastic bag. I could feel it all the same, as if it were on my own hands. My best guess was it was blood.
I thought about it the whole day the next day in school. Obviously, I wondered what it could’ve meant. Could it have been a sign? If so, what did it want me to do? Again, what did it mean?
Imagine my anger when the same idiots who riled me up the day before broke my train of thought on purpose. They felt smug; that stupid, arrogant smirk said it all. They were trying to provoke me again, and it was working.
It was miracle I managed to hold back from killing them there and then BOTH times.
The first time, I let it pass; I could care less what they said about me. Attention-seeking insults could easily be counted desperate and groundless. I reminded myself that, and just let them be.
The second time, I confess that I truly planned at least maiming him. I was clearly working on something important, and they showed no respect for that. They’d never learn a lesson unless someone taught them one. Fortunately, she stepped in and did it for me.
My fondest friend of the past and a childhood sweetheart handled everything for me, of her own volition. Livid, she walked up to him and gave him a deafening slap. All went silent, and all listened, as she verbally tore at him herself, letting off some harsh words in her outrage. Cowed, they left.
She turned to me, smiled amiably, as if we were the only two beings on the planet, and asked if I wanted to go out and do something together.
I nearly accepted, and perhaps I should have, but at the forefront of my mind at the time was the reflection I saw in the mirror. I knew my mind would wander, and that she’d not get my full attention like she deserved. I thanked her for what she did, but politely declined the offer. I said to her that I had something planned already, but I’d like to go some other time out loud; but in my mind, I was saying sorry that I put some ludicrous puzzle before her.
I saw her smile falter for a bit, before she said it was alright and ran off, most likely feeling rejected. I felt awful, but could do nothing about it. The mystery beckoned me to it, and like a moth to a flame I flocked to it. She’d always be there; I could always make it up to her. But this intriguing scenario could disappear while unsolved, and I would doubtlessly waste my time if I did not put it to rest at once. Those were my thoughts then.
I visited the shop again, and was greeted by a different sight this time. It was still me standing in the middle of the mirror, but she was there with me, clinging unto my arm. Her smile was serene, and mine was content. I felt a pang of jealousy at how my “reflection” felt. Guilty, I left.
The whole night that night I stayed up reflecting on my reflections. I was fatigued and exhausted come daybreak, with nothing to be proud of but a bigger bunch of questions.
The day at school passed quickly. There were no incidents save whispers of how I heartlessly turned her down, not even bothering to make a proper excuse. I didn’t see her the whole day. There was no chance for me to apologize, so I put her out of my mind.
That was one of my few regrets.
I ventured again to the antiques shop, and stared at the mirror. Only, this time, I saw no reflection of myself. I saw everything, myself included, for a moment, before I vanished from the mirror image. I saw what was around me, and behind me, but not myself.
I looked away, quite annoyed with what I was given. The past two days, what I saw had something to do with what happened before I looked at my reflection. Seeing her tightly hug my arm in the mirror yesterday sparked the idea that what happened before I looked into the mirror affected what I saw.
That would mean the blood and the gash could’ve come from the incident with the pest, and the ruined school seal could mean the consequences of that act. That also meant that, had I gone with her, she and I would be a couple already; one that actually knew and cared for one another.
My eyes widened as I actually caught sight of who I was facing. I was staring out the door, and she was right there, looking at me brokenly, tears streaking down her face. She ran off again, but this time I went after her.
How cruel I must have seemed to her; snubbing her just to sit in front of a mirror in an antique shop. I had to apologize; I had to explain.
As I chased her, she quickened her pace, as if trying to lose me. I could tell she was inconsolable and that she didn’t wish to talk to me… but I had to tell her now; I couldn’t bear not telling her the reason why I treated her so wretchedly, and left her despondent.
In my haste, I ran to my death. She sped across the road, and shutting out everything else, I followed.
I didn’t feel anything as a car, obviously not expecting two teenagers to come out of nowhere, smashed into my side. She made it safely across, and looked horrified as she turned back and saw me die.
It clicked in my head, right after I went through all the happenings in my life. I had done nothing; I had cared for nothing; so I may as well have been nothing.
The irony of it all was that only contentment I had in death was that I found the answer to the mystery of the mirror.
I'd prefer to be stricter and hated by those I work with until the end result comes out. Since when it comes out well received and quite loved, hate me they might, I will be praised. And then they'll change their tune to being as proud as they can be that they were a part of it, since they want to shine too. They want a piece of the glory they ridiculed and condemned. They can scavenge as much as they like; I will stand, and smile, and bask in what I deserve.
-Richter Krevr |
