The Phantom Shard

Chapter five

I woke up to a very haunting face.

I stared at him with my mouth ajar and as I watched him more closely, he looked more refine than ever. He had the same brown hair with matching dark grey eyes. When I snapped back to my senses, I beat his chest merciless with my fist and screamed bloody murder. His face scrunched up and his built seemed affected by my punches. I jerked back when I felt his dead cold hands gripped mine.

"You're that-that boy," I gulped.

"Calm yourself, my sweet. I'm not him and by the way, you suggest me wrong. Not much to describe me as a mere boy. I mean, look at me," he paused as he gestured to himself with a twist of the lips.

"-but nevertheless, yes. I'm that boy you see in a picture above your mantle back at home that you see almost everyday. And I think that potrait did no justice of me, I looked better face to face."

"I, I'm so confused. You say you're not him but you say yes also." My face soured.

"I'm not real. The real I died, I'm just a reflection of him and given that he now rests forever, I'm granted to wander wherever I liked until you uncloacked the mirror." He replies calmly.

He saw my puzzled face and sighed. "Honestly woman, haven't you heard that people cover the dead's mirror? Afraid that bad luck might struck them? They may say that but in truth, it's because their reflection lingers and when you took the white sheet off, I got curious."

I don't know what to say. He said he was his reflection and that the real one died? What? I turned my head away from his face to look at my surroundings. I could tell I'm in a bedroom, with a quite handful of funiture occupying the empty space. One thing though, the light emitted from outside was odd.

It was darkish blue, almost the touching black. The ones usually you see before the sun rose.

"Where am I?"

He gave me a dumbfounded look. His face telling me the obvious and I raised an eyebrow."Sorry, always believed that heaven was slight brighter than this. It's awfully dark here, is it morning?"

"Heav-what, really?" He stammered. "Don't you remember I pulled you into the mirror? You're currently in my room and in the Frightened, one of two realms behind the mirror. Time exists here and yes, it's morn but the light will always look like this just as the light in your world is a bright white yellow."

Before I can ask for something more, he handed me a pile of clothes. "Enough chitchat, wear these and then we can eat. Your stomach was growling violently these past few days." And with that,he left.

These past few days he says, I'm asleep for that long but I still feel tired. My muscles sore everywhere and I could still smell the faintest of smoke. Maybe I'm dreaming, these kinds of things cease to exist presumably. I realized now that I was on a bed. A comfy one too, maybe I can sleep for one mor-

"Get up. We're having guests soon and I'll appreciate it if you wake, thank you." He said loudly after knocking the blasted door. I puffed my cheeks in response.

I mopped around and finally got to my feet, unwillingly I add. I put on the two sizes too big purple sweater and the fitting grey pants. I seethed when I noticed he didn't gave me any shoes. I searched for mine and found them two minutes later by the couch. He entered through the door without knocking.

"I could have been naked behind that closed door" I said, annoyed.

"But you're not naked." He smiled. "Let's go."

I trailed next to him down a very, very long hallway. Every wall was covered with different kinds of square framed mirrors. I felt conscious of my appearance now, my brown hair was a mess and I could see a drool mark on the side of my face, talk about embarassing. We turned to many corners and climbed down almost three sets of stairs. This place was grand and bigger than a palace albeit, the mirrors made it look crowded.

"Okay, since you saw the potrait, I'm assuming you saw the name gravings below it. But I preferred it if you call me by another name." He whispered the end as if he had gone shy on me.

"I did, but I can't read it."

He stopped in the middle of the fourth staircase. "Has it faded?" I shook my head. I remembered it still had the graving. It was hard to avoid actually. The thing was a shimmering gold.

"I can't read."

He gave me a pitiful smile and his dark grey eyes showed great depth of sympathy. "I'm sorry, and I say this from the bottom of my heart." His hand placed above his chest.

"And also from my liver." He points wrongly and ended up pointing to where his stomach lies. I stared at him before I laughed so hard that I had to sit down on the steps, afraid that I would fall. He joined me soon after and with that, all seriousness vanished.

✏ • • • • • • • • • •

The longer I stayed where I was, the more convinced I am really in another realm.

"That's cause you are."

He told me that his real's name was Caine, with an i. I ended up calling him by his middle name, Hunter, as everyone here calls him. I was told to sit and wait for the upcoming guests. Beforehand, he told me that these guests were his friends, and they too no longer have breathing reals. It seems that when the real die at a young age, their reflections will remain in their young built forever.

I felt sorry for those old ones now that I think about it. So here we are, the young forever twenty one Hunter was lucky than most. Theoretically, I'm three years younger.

Right now he was in front of me, sharpening a shard of mirror. He says that the young are to guard the realm. To be quite honest, I think he's just a murderer.

"Do you do that often? Talking out loud?" He asked not looking up. I ignored him and asked,

"I get now that I'm present in this whimsical world of mirrors but I should ask, where's my reflection? I mean, what if we get jumbled up?"

"When a real arrives in Frightened, their given a mark yourself cannot see. And well, I haven't know where she is, probably dispersed into shards because you're here. A real and a reflection cannot co-exist in the same space. Don't worry she lives."

His wet stone slipped from his hands and he bends to pick it up. "And about that mark, it's on your knuckles. Just a bunch of lines of sort, you still look nice."