R. Short Stories

The Mirror Man

        

He walks around town every day and night,

Talking to someone who's nowhere in sight.

Walking by the local café,

Some people wonder if he is okay.

Sitting on the bench, he begins to speak,

You turn once you hear the creek.

He begins to talk to an object in his hand

That contains the Mirror Man.

            It was a day like any other, with my dogs leashes in hand, they escorted me to the nearest open café on that cool November Sunday. Tying them to my seat, I went inside to order us each a treat.

            Once our order was placed, I sat waiting until I could have a taste; a few moments past before our food and my coffee arrived.

            That's when I saw him, walking across the street, sitting on a bench with a creek. The young man sat by himself, grasping an object in his hand, as he begins to speak.

            If you were not an observant person, like most people tend to be, you would not have thought twice at what I could see.

            "He's probably on his phone."

            "He's probably video chatting with an old friend."

            "He's probably talking to someone he may know."

            But not once would you think that he was speaking to his untimely end.

            Louder, louder, louder he began to speak, talking to someone whom no one else could see. You look closer, closer, closer, until you realize what it may be.

            "He's speaking to no one." You realize. "There is no one."

            Grasping the object in his hand, you try to see what it may be in a glance. Wondering what it might be, if you were like I, you would have done your best to while doing your best to be discreet.

            He was a good ten or more feet away from my seat when an uncomfortable feeling overcame me. It was then that I saw what was in his hand; it was then that I realized that he might not be talking to any man.

            "No, it couldn't be." I thought. "Could this really be what I think it might be?"

            With more care, I began to study his each and every move. He shook even though it was no longer quite so cold. His movements seemed harsh, forced or almost as if they were out of his control.

            The object became clear in my few, it came took too slow yet too soon. What he had in his hand was no phone or any form of any digital device I may have known; for you see, as my sight became clearer, I realized it was indeed a mirror.

            "Had I seen it right?" You would ask in fright.

            Sitting back in my seat, it hit me.

            He turned in my direction more than a few times. Here and there he would catch my eyes. He began to speak, but to whom I am still not quite sure. At first I thought it might have been me, or perhaps it was the one he spoke to that only he seemed to be able to see.

            When our eyes met once more, I could see something, something I knew wasn't quite right. Scared, my mind began to race.

            Seeing things that weren't there...