‘Twas a long time ago, longer not then it seems, in a place that perhaps you’ve seen in your dreams. For the story that you are about to be told…recounts the days of a seemingly peaceful slumber, which used to so effortlessly take me away from my current world consumed by so much loneliness – too a place of true tranquillity, a paradise of calm and warmth that wraps me up ever so tightly. But now it seems like a distant unattainable illusion in the desert. A remember the ease of my past that promised so much in the way of happiness, but with every dark night that passes, it grows ever distant from my grasp. Replaced now with grotesque imagery, a horror film only played when the children were fast asleep, something only the devils nightmares can bare… Ear piercing screeches; fill my ears, like water in the corridors of the sinking Titanic… But they seem to be coming from a man, they are screams of pain and fear… so vague and foreign to my memories, yet so familiar to my body. That seems to intoxicate my being, like poison, grabbing hold of me, constricting my bones and organs like a serpent. Then, Suddenly, my eyes open, unchaining me from this unworldly abyss, but still my nightmares manage to crawl out of my sleep to pray unsympathetically on my waking subconscious, providing me with a glimpse to what to expect during my next venture into a state of limbo.
As I turn my body to the right side of the bed, I pause a moment to stir at the mirror, expecting to see my wretched, unbearably horrific, face to stare back at me. But… wait, the mirror bears no monster, I couldn’t see myself… Was there something wrong with the mirror? Was it broken? But I see no cracks, its surface bears no blemishes, instead it remains attainted and flawless as always, as every morning I take extra care, to wipe away all its sins of dust and imperfections accumulated over unforgiving time… So damage is out of the question…I stand up, pins and needles erupt in my feet. My bones shudder as they so begrudgingly, attempt to bears my weight; as if I were a newborn baby, learning to walk again for the very first time. Fearing my knees will snap in two, like a twig under the march of a bear, I lunged for the basin, and hoisted myself up. But as I lean closer… still no reflections dare greet me, but I can see my bed, and lamp on my nightshade humming a weak yellow, but yet no me?.. What sorcery is this? Is my mind, playing cruel tricks on me… an April fool’s trick gone too far? Surely not for How my mind has never failed me before, I’m far from old age, true my skins is weathered, skin pale and eyes sight faulty. But these are just the fruits of depression that have decided to ripe through my appearance. But surely my mind was still in good condition, the only thing; I dare say I can rely on? A friend… My only friend, but why betray me now… or am I still dreaming… it doesn’t feel like a dream. I turn the tap on, with some hesitation the tap give out its treasure, cool life affirming substance give way. I run my hands through the water, and splash it on my face. I look up, still no reflection; I tilt my head down again to plunge my face under the surface of the water. But the taps seem to chuckle, and cackle, at my expense, before releasing hot, red liquid instead of water, from its bowls… like Jesus turning water into wine, but this is no wine… without any modesty, the aroma betrays its true identity, Its blood… once warm, is now a stagnant, stale mess, growing darker and thicker with every passing tick of the clock, quickly engulfing the basin, before spilling itself over the sides… but what truly alarmed me now, was not just sudden pouring of blood from the taps, or even the reflection that eludes me still… But the fact, that as the blood spilled over, it did not do so with such blind luck, but it moved with purpose, as if gravity were not controlling it, but instead a dark sinister forces with the mastery of a puppeteer.
As it hits the cold, hard wooden flaw boards, it weaves and twirls around every gap and crack. But I dare not follow it, for it moves to the far towards the other side of the room, it feels like there is something there. But throughout this ordeal, without paying any real notice, I had hesitated and reframed for ever allowing my gaze to wonder in that direction, for I did not know why I didn’t want to look, until now… there was something there. Then all of a sudden the room is sensing my acknowledgement of the unthinkable that dare lurk in the shadows. Then as if by witch craft, a light from each one of the three remaining corners of the room, excluding my night lamp, slowly glowed into existence… eventually suffocating the room in a mild red glow. It is now apparent, what monstrosities, that lay dormant in the dark, for now my gaze was met by a cold limp figure, sprawled lifelessly on the hardwood floor, Soaked in that very same; cold, stagnant and stale dark red blood. As I motioned, ever so slowly, as if not to awaken, two bodies that were clearly dead, but my body dare not betray such naivety, for it could tell, that demonic forces were at a foot. As I moved towards the lump, my feet were now surrounded by the blood, the odder now struck me, with the force of an Olympic boxer, I was taken aback…but I had to find out the identity of these poor individuals, even though the warning signs and my gut where urging me to turn back and run. But curiosity grows too strong, so I bent over and peered into their faces.
The mystery, of the location of my reflection was now solved, for it was in the face belonging to one of the dead bodies. A man…The man was me, and the other body was a majestic sleeping beauty that unlike the fairy tale will never wake up, instead cursed with so much beauty that will never grace this world again. Suddenly a slow and methodical wind swept by me, causing both bodies to flip over, revealing, a nine inch butchers knife in each, plunged into their backs… then suddenly I felt something trickle down my spine, I put my palm to my back, to find out what it was. It was blood…It dawned on me… the lack of reflection, the horrible nightmare, all the blood. I was merely a ghost of my former self, as for the dreams, they were the events that made me this way, they played like a movie in my mind – on loop, but why was I here? why haven’t I left this world? Yes I was murdered, But by who? Is that what I should find out, the identity of my killer and this fallen angel?