For one year I have been in this prison, and for nine I have been in this basement. My pale skin has only become lighter and frailer. I lay on the cement ground. My face is towards the ceiling, and my hands are folded just above my chest. I may be alive, but one thing is for sure- I am not living. A heart will still beat for the desperate.
As stagnant as a statue, my body does not flinch. Wind might fall upon my face, but my hair won't even whirl. I can barely move now. Hunger gently kills me. I capture the ceiling drips into a jar, but water is still scarce.
I rest in the same position most of my days. When I have the strength, I will dream, sing, write, and, of course, pray. Dreaming is a passion of mine you could say. Every second I think of the marvelous things the outside world possesses. Making up my own fantasies, I pretend the birds can help me fly. I imagine anything is possible, for the earth is a beautiful and mystical place to be.
Random words will start to spill out when I let out a melodic tune. I just want someone to hear my voice and save me; although, I do not sing loudly. Scared by the haunting noises, I rarely speak. I feel as if the ghosts will hear me and come through the cage door to choke me, like she almost did before. And so, I whisper to God, "Please don't let the demon fill me with melancholy." Every night I pray someone will find me and help. All I ask for is hope and for the peace that I know is somewhere within me.
Writing is the best ways to pass time. In this confined area, I have found a box of papers, an ink pen, and a flimsy rubber band. When I feel like writing or drawing, I take off the rubber band from the papers and set my mind free. Something needs to run wild in me. If it cannot be my physical body, it has to be my thoughts.
The shadows deepen, and in the distance stars twinkle. As I lay, I slightly move my head to the right and see sixteen mirrors staring me in the face. Most are round, some are square, and a couple of them are shattered. Rigid edges of the silver point up from the ground, causing my feet to blister. Shards of glass have stabbed me multiple times, and the dried blood covers the bottoms of my feet.
Resting from starvation, I nearly fall asleep from lying on the cement ground. As I relax on my right side, I look into the mirrors across from me. They are all spread out amongst the dry wall. Half of them reflect my face, and half of them reflect my pink dress.
One of the mirrors especially captured my eye. Why haven't I seen it before? It's been hiding all this time between the other reflectors.
Its uniqueness had me gravitate towards it. Diamonds bordered the round mirror. It was bright too, but that wasn't the motive for my curiosity. The reflection is what had me in awe. Nothing compares. The mirror should have been reflecting my thigh, but instead, it reflected my face.
I might not know anything about physics, for I have never gone to school, but I do know that it is not possible for it to reflect my face. The angle is off. Whenever I swept my head from side to side, the mirror did the same. The beat of my heart pumped slower and slower each second, but I couldn't rest without knowing.
I scooted my way over to the mirror as if I were a seal on land. My arms helped drag my body over to it, but I was not strong enough. Just a couple inches away from the mirror were my fingertips, and my heart stopped.
My brain was not at all stressed. Neither were my nerves. In fact, I felt no pain whatsoever. Freedom made its way over to me and it felt so real. Finally, I could escape this hell I have been living in. As relaxed as I am, bright lights shine onto my corpse and I was lifted in the air. Horrible memories that once flooded my mind, evaporated, and new possibilities entered my soul. If I could, I would smile.
Just as I thought my eyes were closed for good, I was dropped back into my body right before I could see the sky. My fingers tingled, and my heart beat normally, but I wish it hadn't.
I shed tears like rain, as it would against my small cage window. I curled up and yelled out, "Why am I still here! Please, take me away." My hands covered my red face as I sobbed.
"You can thank me later," claimed the lethal ghost, just inches outside of my door. She gave off a devious grin.
Sprinting to the door, my hands forcefully gripped the sides and I growled, "You did this to me! I should have died! I wanted to die... I wanted to die." part of me was furious, yet another part of me was relieved. My feelings flew all over the place.
The ghost wandered off repetitively whispering, "A trap to escape may be your hope to eternal freedom. One week can be life, or one week can be fatality. Look around you, for the choice is in your hands now."
Once she left, her words kept repeating in my head. Each time it replayed, my hands gripped the sides harder and harder. Suddenly, I recognized those words she had said. Those were the sentences she had whispered from the very first time I saw her. Eventually I let go and turned to a mirror to take a swing at. Clear drops still running down my cheeks, my sight was blurry as I punched one mirror at a time. I was furious. She didn't scare me anymore.
My sight was still fuzzy from my tears after hitting about ten silver reflections. My right fist took a swing at the eleventh, but I noticed the crystal border, so I stopped my momentum. I picked up the tulle from my dress and extended it to my eyes. The tulle faded my tears, until my eyes were dry. My vision was back in perspective and I saw the round mirror clearly now. Its beauty mesmerized me. It was as if my peripheral vision closed in and that was all I could see. Diamonds, emeralds, gold, pearls, and rubies framed this ornamental mirror. There was not even a crack in the glass.
Using my hands to estimate its size, I noticed it was about a twelve-by-twelve, round mirror. Not that the size matters, but it is just strange how I have never seen it before. It is true that darkness usually covers the room, but I didn't think it was possible to miss such intriguing décor.
Looking into the reflection, it still echoed my face. No matter where I moved, my face was being mirrored. Softly my fingertips brushed the side of the mirror. I gently touched each gem. For being trapped so many years down here, I have never seen such dazzling jewels. Everything has been dull, grey, and monochrome. It confuses me how something so unique could be down here. It's merely a treasure for me.
Once I finished feelings the frame, I snapped out of the trance. Instead, I thought about what the mysterious ghost had mentioned multiple times. As of now, her words meant nothing to me. Trying to make sense of it, I only paid attention to her third sentence: "Look around you, for the choice is in your hands now."
About thirty minutes passed as I pondered about it. I look around my chamber, as she had told me, and I do no spy any choices I could make. All I see is that particular mirror. So what choice is there for me to make? I have nothing.
Wait a minute... two of her words stand out to me: "Look around you, for the choice is in your hands now." I stare down into my palms and then take a quick glance up at the round mirror. "Around...hands," I say to myself, and the meaning was on the tip of my tongue.
My blonde hair kept falling onto my little nose, as I crawled my way over to the crystal mirror. I took my left hand in the air. Desperately, I stared into my own reflection, looking deep into my own eyes. Sitting down and knees bent, my fingers moved inch by inch towards the mirror.
Finally the mirror and my palm met. It had not been composed of silver, for I did not feel that metal stroke against my skin. Now I see why there hadn't been a crack in the glass, for there was not even glass. I was in astonishment to see that in its place, the figure of my reflected hand emerged to my chamber. Through the simulated glass, the skin of the familiar palm touched my very own. I yanked myself away from the magic for a moment, but crept towards it again. Her pointer finger reached mine until I was ready to place my palm up to hers once more. Indents of our fingerprints allowed our hands to perfectly fit together against the impractical mirror.
