The Child wakes in The Room
It is white
With nothing but three mirrors
The child is afraid
He's seen this before
On his hand are initials
The letters F.T.
Branded on his hand
He looks around
Nothing has changed
It's the same as always
This time he tries to find a door
For he knows if he looks into the mirror
It'll be all over. Again.
Yet again
To no avail does he find a door
He gives up
Then finally musters up the courage
To walk to the mirrors
They are all lined up
The one on the left
Angled right to face him
The one on the right
Angled left to face him
The one in the middle
Facing directly towards him
They seem to be placed like this
So as for the child
To see the reflection in every mirror
All at once
The left one
A tattered mirror
With pieces missing from the glass
And it's frame's paint chipped
The wood old and beaten
The right one
A cheap mirror
Seemingly made of plastic
The kind used in toys
It's color, a lilac purple
The middle one
An ornate mirror
It's wood painted
With glossy black lacquer
Precious stones of white
Dotted around the frame
Making a pattern the child
Did not know how to describe
"It looks like shit" the child says to himself
He hated that mirror
He hated the way it looked
But he could not tell why
All three mirrors stand tall
A height at least four feet taller than the child
They loom over the child
He finally gives in
And looks into the mirror
He first looks left
But he does not see himself
He sees his brother
The little boy
Afraid of the world
Scared of what life brings him
Then the child looks right
What he sees in the reflection
Is his friend
Not wanting the fun to end
Taking nothing seriously
Pretending that it doesn't matter what happens
As long as he's having fun
Finally the child looks toward the center
The smile in the reflection sends fear down his spine
It's that same smile that always follows him
Every day, making his life hell
In that reflection
He sees the bully
They look so similar
But he knows
They are different
He could never be like that person
He hates him
Wishes he was dead
Wishes he never found the child
"Why do you plague me" the child asks the mirror
"I plague no one, you simply plague yourself" it responds
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He wakes from his dream.
"Or was it a nightmare..?" he asks himself.
He looks around.
Everything seems unfamiliar.
"How long was I in that room?
How long did I stare into those mirrors?"
He ponders as he recollects his dream.
He looks at himself, and realizes
He doesn't recognize his hands.
He doesn't recognize the feet attached to his legs.
He doesn't recognize where he is.
It's all so sanitary and white.
Filled with a clean smell.
Too clean of a smell...
Where was he?
Who was he?
