untitled

ch 2

I trailed my fingers over a rocking chair, creating a light breeze and moving it slightly. I roamed the store, sulking, not sure why I was still there. I felt no trace of the pull that brought me there, just more of the emptiness that felt out of place in light of the day's events. Still, I didn't leave. It's not like I had anywhere better to be and there had to be some reason I'd felt that draw in the first place. I couldn't understand what would cause those feelings at all, let alone with the strength that had confused all sense of normalcy. This place was no so different from the places I'd explored before; it had its own assortment of treasures and junk in a small and comfortable space that faintly smelled like dust and paint.

I slowly walked past a large counter, examining the woman seated behind it. Her thick, silver hair framed a dark, wrinkled face. Her body was even smaller than mine, somewhere around four foot tall, but her presence was large. The air around her felt powerful, and it shimmered with silvery yellow. Whether it was the confident set of her shoulders or the depth to her dark eyes, it was obvious she had something mighty about her.

I turned the next corner, passing a long row of thick, handmade quilts and found myself in front of a large mirror. It stood almost two feet higher than my head and was the width of my body. Shaped into a long oval, it was the perfect size to appreciate one's whole reflection. Except that I couldn't, of course. I looked into what should've been my reflection and saw nothing but the aisle behind me and the dark and ornate wood frame of the mirror. A shudder of disappointment passed through me and irritation flared higher than I anticipated. The mirror fogged slightly, my anger in the air reacting with its glass. I had felt so drawn to this spot, and so different in the last few hours than any day of this empty existence, and yet there was nothing. No difference, no change, just an empty reflection and some cold air! Something deep in me had thought, had begun to hope, that after all the new sensations and experiences in just a days time, that maybe something was happening. That something was changing. But there I was, the same miserable and invisible being that I had been for the last 100 odd years. I stared at the emptiness in front of me, longer than really necessary, wishing there were something I could do to prove to this giant and bustling world that I was not completely irrelevant. I sighed, something I realized done a lot of, and felt completely out of character.

What was the point of this?

I let myself have this thought, something I was usually very careful not to do. Pulling at this thread felt dangerous, but I was tired of ignoring the most obvious question: was this it? Was there a purpose for my wandering and wanting and drifting and wishing? Was I forgotten or was this how it was for everyone in the end?

I had the sudden urge to break the mirror, to watch it shatter and litter the floor with its shards. I stepped back, surprised at the force of this anger I felt, still unused to the flux of resurfacing emotions. Instead of turning, as I maybe should have, I decided to walk through the mirror. I couldn't be sure why, but next to breaking it, this seemed like the most I could do to satisfy the irritation and disappointment I felt. With my arms crossed stubbornly across my chest, in a display that I'm sure looked incredibly immature, I stepped forward. The second my body touched the glass, I felt a painful shock, my empty stomach turned, and everything went black.

I opened my eyes, squinting against the blazing yellow lights hanging from the brilliant white ceiling. I felt ... wrong. My stomach was tight and achy, and every muscle in my body was tense and sore. I furrowed my eyebrows, realizing I'd never been quite this aware of my body. I heard a distant pounding I couldn't place, a distinct drum beat in the back of my head. 

I sat up, not remembering how I got on the ground in the first place, trying to understand the tsunami of feelings I had no memory of feeling, even in life. Suddenly the world turned and completely blurred together, turning everything into a melted mosaic of grey. I felt my body attempt to reject the contents of my stomach, twisting and constricting when it found nothing to expel. I forced myself completely still, my clammy palms pressed to the cold linoleum. A voice in the back of my head was yelling  something at me, waving the red flags on all of this, but the sloshing and pounding symphony was so loud it overcame any of the thoughts behind it.