Mirror Image (Twisted Tales 148)
There she was.
Again.
But it couldn't be. I went to the funeral. I personally kissed her cold lips in the funeral home after signing the Cremation papers. Told her good bye and wished her peace after her long struggle. And I walked out. wondering where I was going to do.
All there has been for five years is emptiness, existing on vodka and smack. Sun isn't bright. Night isn't dark. Been with a few women and a couple of men since. None of the relationships were right. Just cold comfort and self inflicted pain to erase the memory, marking my time and until time to face the cremation pyre.
But here she is in the mirror. Smiling? For what? I can't reach through the glass.
When she first came, I thought I must have had something slipped into my drink. I wanted to run, but I found myself transfixed by the hazel eyes and curly hair. Must be something in the Horse doing it. Maybe I should stop chasing her. The dragon of my past.
She came again a few days later. I hadn't had a drink since the first incident, so I wondered if I was cracking. But the smile was bigger and she came closer to the glass. I admit, I got closer, too. And I swear I caught the scent of Plasir coming from her shoulders.
It is now a week later. I haven't been out of my apartment. Haven't showered or shaved, either. And she is beckoning me to come. To cross over to her side. The smile is bigger and the dress is sliding off her body. I can feel her hands and they are strangely warm against my shoulders. Leaning in to the glass, our lips slowly meet. The warmth flows and the image turns red and liquid. That sound is irrelevant.
I'm home.
Again.
But it couldn't be. I went to the funeral. I personally kissed her cold lips in the funeral home after signing the Cremation papers. Told her good bye and wished her peace after her long struggle. And I walked out. wondering where I was going to do.
All there has been for five years is emptiness, existing on vodka and smack. Sun isn't bright. Night isn't dark. Been with a few women and a couple of men since. None of the relationships were right. Just cold comfort and self inflicted pain to erase the memory, marking my time and until time to face the cremation pyre.
But here she is in the mirror. Smiling? For what? I can't reach through the glass.
When she first came, I thought I must have had something slipped into my drink. I wanted to run, but I found myself transfixed by the hazel eyes and curly hair. Must be something in the Horse doing it. Maybe I should stop chasing her. The dragon of my past.
She came again a few days later. I hadn't had a drink since the first incident, so I wondered if I was cracking. But the smile was bigger and she came closer to the glass. I admit, I got closer, too. And I swear I caught the scent of Plasir coming from her shoulders.
It is now a week later. I haven't been out of my apartment. Haven't showered or shaved, either. And she is beckoning me to come. To cross over to her side. The smile is bigger and the dress is sliding off her body. I can feel her hands and they are strangely warm against my shoulders. Leaning in to the glass, our lips slowly meet. The warmth flows and the image turns red and liquid. That sound is irrelevant.
I'm home.
That was a really good one! Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteExcellent.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeletemy comment was sidetracked.... this was excellent sad yet so beautiful. So very real could feel it within like it were my ownself.
ReplyDeleteLove it!
ReplyDeleteWell, that is a sure sign of seven years of bad luck. Still, sacrifices must be made, from time to time.
ReplyDeletesigned: Myke
Sun isn't bright. Night isn't dark. - good stuff
ReplyDeleteIt is the life of a true depressive. No color, only gray.
DeleteWow... gave me cold shivers! Awesome tale!
ReplyDeleteSharonlee
It does.
DeleteThis is so sweet and tragic <3
ReplyDeleteLisa