Short Stories

Villain in the Mirror

I stare into my reflection. Staring back at me is just a face. A face contorted into a blank canvas, veto of emotion. It looks as though a darkness surrounds the reflection I see, as though their soul has fallen. The soul stolen of its morals and humanity - So corrupt that the soul is long lost to the devil, beyond redemption, beyond salvation. The darkness is like a veil that shelters the heart from pain and poisons those who try. The darkness is deadly. It is contagious. A disease.

The reflection shakes rapidly as though the earth has moved beneath us, but no. It is I who shakes. Me. The reflection is me. The darkness is me. I am a monster, cold. I feel no guilt for what I have done. I do not tremble for the conscience that should weaken my stone cold soul. I do not tremble in a struggle to cease control of the evil that invades me. The evil is a part of me, a fact I'll never escape. A fact I have embraced.

I tremble from the rush. The event of the last hour sends the adrenaline gushing through my veins, desperately searching. Searching for something that will uphold the pleasure that engulfs me into its hedonistic flames.

I see my reflection smile at me, though I throw a malicious grimace it's way. We blink at different times and the reflection licks its blood red lips, which should terrify me. It would terrify the normal souls that walk this planet. But I am no normal soul. The eerie life within the mirror only intrigues me, entices me. it is as though we are the same person in two separate worlds. The exact replica, a clone, of myself placed into a parallel universe.

We are the same. We share the same desires. We reach for a power that one day will be ours. A power that will be unstoppable, invincible, legendary. We thrive in the midst of destruction, pain, sorrow. All of which we feed off, giving us a strength which we ourselves are barely able to control. But we do. Because me must. We know each other's fears, what makes us tick, for they are the same. We know our limits, fully aware that we have none. We are fearless and we are to be feared.

In the reflection's hand I see an exquisite dagger, dripping crimson. The handle golden and within its golden casing is the delicate carvings of fire and monsters that the mundane world are ignorant to their existence. They hide in the shadows, in the embers of hell where they can not be seen. But they will soon rise from the ashes.

The blade is visibly sharp and glimmers in the dim lighting of the petty motel bathroom. The blood trickles down the silver blade, dripping to the tiles and I can hear the slight sound of it falling through the air until it flails across the floor. I know not who's blood falls from the dagger, the same dagger I also hold. I don't remember picking it up which slightly takes me aback. But I must stay focused, I am here for a purpose. A purpose that will rid the world of the vermin that has infiltrated and wasted the earth's bountiful resources. The humans are just a few moments away from an invasion that will obliterate their existence, an invasion that will take the world as ours. They will be extinct. A race from the past. A waste of years.

The reflection watches me with watchful eyes, scrutinizing me even though we are the same. They take me in as though they have never seen me before, even though we meet every night. They watch me, like an experiment, waiting for the chemical reaction. But nothing happens. Then it speaks.

"You have served well." The voice beckons, my lips move with theirs. "You are no longer required."

For a few seconds, normality seems to return to me and I become aware of what has happened. My body has been used, manipulated by a force that was not my own. Panic overwhelms me as I become aware of the horror I have ignited, the horrors that will be inflicted upon the world... and those I love.

As quickly as I gained control, I lose it. But this time, I am conscious, I look through my eyes but I am unable to move my limbs, my lips. The body is mine but is no longer under my influence. The body is apart of me but I'm not a part of the body, just a voice within itself as I am lost. But I am still lost.

"Let me reward you for your time ... and body." My reflection guffaws and places it's hand on it's own side of the mirror. It encourages me to do the same. But I fight the impulse within me. I try and maintain the control of my body but I can't keep my grasp. The foreign force that shares my body wins and presses my hand against the mirror to the reflection's hand. But it is no longer a reflection. It has a form. It is human. Or appears to be. I feel the fingers grasp mine and the blood sticks to my palms. The reflection pulls itself through the mirror, that ripples like metallic water, until it stands in front of me.

I am frozen. I can not speak. But I still feel it. I feel every second, every moment that the dagger penetrates my skin. I can feel each and every cell that is forced to divide to make room for the deathly blow. The unbearable twinge spreads throughout my body and I collapse to the ground, holding on to the dagger that now lingers in my spleen. I pull it from my body and it falls to the ground with scarlet water flowing from the gaping wound left behind. I can feel my life leave my body and feel my soul as it is devoured by the hungry lips of what was once my reflection but is now me. Or the new me. Or a monster that looks like me.

The last thing I see is the haunting look of my own eyes... as they watch me die.