Khunbam week 2022

Athazagoraphobia (does not exist)

Day 3: Secrets/Mirror

Two beings in a room. One of them is surrounded by liquid. The other stands opposite to him. They are two seperate things whose strings of fate have been messily tangled up. One of them floats. It speaks.

"The process," its eerie voice says, "is simple. Each time, you light up a match. Then you let it fall. If it's water that surrounds you, the match will die."

They let the silence embrace them. Two beings alike. Mortals chasing immortality, fools trying to live up to God, atheists who can only find faith when death comes knocking at their door. Nothing but a reflection of each other. A faulty mirror leading to divine punishment.

"If it's gasoline," and it leaves it at that.

"Do we both die then?"

"We all die," it continues with a soothing voice. Their discussion doesn't take place in a particular time nor place. It doesn't exist until it does. "But only one will burn."

.

He isn't sure he remembers his name.

He thinks it's Aguero. He tests it on his lips over and over until it stops feeling like a foreign language. Until it starts resembling something that is–that could be–his. That moment never comes. The name still sits bitterly on his tongue, tasting like a knife twisted against his gums. He would admit that it held some familiarity–in a way you would hold a regret, a memory of the past that caused you guilt–and since there weren't any other names he could use, he settled on this one.

In front of him was an empty road. Empty of people, empty of plants, empty of everything. As he walks, he tries to recall the reason he's here. Once again, he finds nothing.

At the end of it–he thought roads shouldn't end as abruptly as this one–stands a single wooden door. For a brief moment he feels as if there is something on the other side calling out to him, encouraging him to open it. He extends his hand—

"Do not touch the door." A childish voice commands. Aguero turns around and finds a little boy wearing a plain white shirt and black shorts staring at him. The boy has light blue hair–an odd colour, if anyone were to ask Aguero–that match his eyes. He thinks he looks more like a short businessman than a kid.

The kid, deciding to ignore Aguero, makes his way towards the door and sits in front of it. He also removes a small silver jewellery case from his pocket. He opens it while humming, carefully taking out every jewel. They all look beautiful and Aguero briefly finds unfair that a child is in possession of such fine things. Soon after he mentally curses himself for being jealous of a kid.

"Excuse me," he says, "do you know where I should go?"

The boy lifts his gaze and sighs. It sounds like a mother being disappointed at her ill-behaved child. It also makes Aguero wonder about his own mother. He couldn't recall her name or her face but she had to be beautiful, someone you'd admire.

"They said to watch the door," the child tells him deciding to ignore his question. "You can't go through the door."

"Then where should I go?"

The child places one of his jewels–a pair of sapphire earrings–back inside the case. "Try the mirror."

.

There is only fire.

The first time he had found himself in a situation like that, he had known something was wrong. He was a predator, someone at the top of the chain, any change in his environment would be easy to–

He was a friend. He was a friend and he was losing the black turtle–maybe not to the Eel like they've been told, but a loss like the one they had suffered was still a loss–and he knew it the moment it happened. More losses came afterwards and Rak had grown accustomed to losing. This time, however, was different.