Mirrored Reflection (Short Story Version)

Chapter 1: Eight Years Later...

Void...

Nothing but darkness...

Emptiness filled this space...

         

The eyes...

Black and golden, glowing and evil.

Malicious and menacing.

It's irises pulse with every second. 

They're looking at something, staring. Stare at what? Stare at... me? They can't be. This is all some horrendous nightmare that I am bound to wake from soon... hopefully.

A blinding white light fills the empty, black void with warmth and comfort. It is accompanied by a sweet, melodious tune. An innocent, yet powerful voice begins to speak, "Second chance..."

A second chance at what? And that is all it says. Suddenly...

That same white light is replaced by a dimmer, less blinding light overhead.

My body – my body?? – began to ache everywhere. I winced at the pain. Looking to my right, I spot a window letting in fresh, cool breezes into my room?

The cool breeze sends shivers down my spine which tingles with lessening pain.

Looking downward, I notice that my body is covered in an unfamiliar blanket. I look at my legs, which seem to be longer than the last time I've seen them. The last time I saw them?

I decide that it was time that I truly awoke from my slumber, so I try to move my legs one-by-one but no movement was made. I try again with the most effort that I can put. Legs still didn't move.

I look to my left only to see a green curtain separating me from whatever lied behind it.

I now focus all my effort into sitting up. That successfully worked out.

Rolling off the right, my body planks on the floor. I get on my knees, then stand and observe my surroundings.

I turn around and notice a doorway leading into a busy hallway filled with running people in lab coats and colored jumpsuits with odd patterns.

I walk into the hallway dodging people and trying hard not to be spotted. Just now noticing my bladder, I immediately roll towards the help desk centered in all this chaos.

Walking over, I was surprised that I could literally see above the counter an into the helper's eyes. She wore a white coat that held a nametag that said Patricia Chinn. Her face was smooth and plump. Her skin looked soft and brown.

"Excuse me ma'am," I asked her, my voice deep and manly instead of soft and innocent like a child's. That's new. "Yes sir?" Patricia responded. Sir? That's even newer.

"Do you know where the nearest restroom is located?"

"Down that hallway, and look for a set of double doors, then look left. You should see it." She pointed towards a dimly lit, creepy hallway.

"Thank you."

"No problem, sir."

"By-the-way, what day is it?" I asked curiously.

"It's Thursday, March sixth, of course." Her voice happy.

"What? That can't be possible. It was just August yesterday!"

"Sorry, but yesterday was the fifth."

"Also... What year is it?" I drew closer, even more curious and clueless.

"Why twenty twenty-seven, of course." But it was just – no it can't possibly be. What happened? Patricia must've noticed my face flush because she asked was I okay. I ignored and just slipped through the crowd into the dark hallway where the lavatory was. Nobody was here.

"Welcome back." I heard a faint whisper in my right ear. I turned around only to see nothing but blackness and a never-ending hallway.

It was nothin'.

Continuing down the hallway, I feel a breeze shoulder past me, as if something was walking next to me.

It is nothing.

"Oh, but it is everything but 'nothing'". The whisper responded to my thoughts. It's voice louder and clear. It sounded raspy, and as if a serpent was speaking. It dragged all the words out too long.

Still oblivious, I turned around and yelled, "Who's there?!"

I began walking faster, practically speeding down the hallway. Making a left turn, I see an outlining of a tall door. Grabbing its knob, I rush in, jump on the toilet seat and begin my cleanse.

Suddenly, I began to think: I've been in a coma for eight years! Eight years of my life gone down the drain.

Eight years wasted... What happened? I thought.

"You want to know what happened." The voice spoke.

"I must be going crazy."

"You most certainly are not going crazy." The voice responded. "Get up. Fix yourself. If you truly want to know what happened, look in the mirror, take these shabby clothes off, including the shitty diaper, and go to Sebastian's house. I'm sure you remember him." I do remember Sebastian. He is my best and closest – kind of my only – friend. At least I hope so. Eight years can change people.

Grabbing a handful of tissue of the roll right of me, I admire its softness and texture.

I begin to clean myself.

After I'm done, I stare down intently at my bare feet and hairy legs.

Practically jumping off the seat, I rush towards the restroom mirror where a tall figure frightens me and I fall back. Looking at the mirror again, I see a tale, pale boy with a strong jawline and dark blue eyes. My hair?? My long, auburn hair was cut short into a nice fade with a curly mess sitting on top. I see a faint mustache struggling to grow in. I swear I saw a shadowed silhouette with yellow eyes staring at me. Eh, it's nothing.

How old am I?

"You are fourteen years of age. Going on fifteen in three weeks." The voice complied.

Fourteen going fifteen... It really has been eight years.

"No time to tarry. Look outside the restroom and in front you should see a stack of fresh clothes that fit you perfectly."