Spice Islands (First Romance Smackdown - LGBT)

Speeding Demons (Part 2)

I was sitting cross-legged on my bed, trying out some new chords on my guitar when something made me glance up. There he was, large as life, reflected in the mirrored panel of my wardrobe, the same guy I had seen at practice. I spun around totally freaked out, but there was no-one there. I must have let out a shriek because Mum came and tapped on the door. "Everything all right dear?"

"There's a man in my mirror!" I shouted. She came in fast, a worried look on her face, still tying the belt of her dressing gown. I realised it must be after midnight.

"What man? Where?"

"Right there!" I pointed at the mirror. "How is he doing that?" I demanded.

She looked bewildered. "What are you talking about?"

"Can't you see him?"

It was instantly obvious that she couldn't. Mum gave me a funny look, I'm pretty sure she was wondering if I had taken some mind altering substance. She tried to sniff the air surreptitiously.

"Is this your idea of a joke Samantha? It's not funny!"

"But he's right there, a big guy with bushy hair and tattoos on his arms. I can see him as clearly as I can see you," I insisted, perhaps unwisely. I turned back to look at the mirror. Darrell was still there. For the first time I noticed he was holding something against his side. I peered more closely. It was guitar, a Razorback to be precise.

I must have murmured the words aloud because Mum sighed audibly, half relieved, half annoyed. "A guitar! I might have known it. You're imagining things! You spend too much time in here with that guitar."

She leant forward to place the back of her hand against my forehead. "Hmm, you feel okay, but that's enough for tonight, put it away and get some sleep. I mean it."

I wanted to argue, it certainly didn't feel like I was hallucinating, but I knew it wasn't going to do any good. If I kept on, she was likely to haul out the cod-liver oil, her favourite remedy for anything from constipation to a hang over.

"Sorry Mum," I tried to sound apologetic.

By the time I turned back to the mirror he had gone, all I could see was my own reflection and an empty room. Maybe I was imagining things after all. Had there been something extra in those chocolate chip cookies Jenna brought to rehearsal, I wondered, only half joking. But I was pretty sure Jenna would never have done something like that, at least, not without telling us.

So, just to be on the safe side, I went to the linen cupboard and took out a spare sheet. "Hallucination or not, I don't want you looking at me," I murmured as I taped the sheet over the mirror with masking tape. "Especially when I'm asleep."

I climbed quickly into bed and turned off the light but I was far too wound up to sleep. The man hadn't looked like a trick of the light or my imagination. He had looked like a real person. Yeah right, I told myself sarcastically, a real person who lives in your mirror. Shades of Alice Through the Looking Glass.

Still there was probably at least something I could follow up. Holding my phone under the covers, I googled 'Razorback' and got a hit about a rather disturbing movie featuring a wild pig on the rampage in the Outback. I added in the word 'guitar' after 'Razorback' and epic bullseye! Top hit 'Dean Razorback' led straight to my mystery guy 'Dimebag' Darrell Abbott. The picture in wikipedia looked just like him.

What was a 'Dimebag' for god's sake? It made him sound like a real creep, no wait, that was 'douchebag'. I discovered 'Dimebag' was an American expression for $10 worth of dope, or weed as they call it. I browsed around a bit more, checking out his history and discovered a few early pictures. I have to say, he looked much hotter when he was younger and several kilos lighter. Much more like a rock star and less like a biker.

But the thing that freaked me out the most was the little fact that he was supposed to be dead, shot by some crazy guy in 2004. When I first saw him, Darrell had been dead for nine years.