Reflection or Reality!
“He still refuses to look into any mirror.” I saw the nurse look my way as he spoke with the doctor in the hallway. I sat patiently in my bed, waiting for the doctor to enter my hospital room. It would be the same thing as it has been for the last three days; he would ask how I was feeling today, if I cared to recount the events of last Thursday night, and attempt to show me the pocket mirror he had brought with him in his lab coat pocket.
I cannot explain what happened. I can only say that I looked into the eyes of Satan himself that night.
I was never fully comfortable looking into mirrors, and would panic if I was alone in a dark room with one. Something about the possibility that there could be so much more than a reflection within that thin piece of glass always put me on edge. There were times when I would casually walk by a mirror and feel as though my reflection did not follow. It was as if the image of myself lingered there, watching my physical body walk by.
What I saw that night was real, and I pray that even my worst enemy will never have to endure the paralyzing fear that came with the occurrence that I am about to describe.
It was around 8 P.M. and, after a hard day at work, I felt that I deserved a hot bath before going to bed and starting the next day at a bright and early 4 o’clock in the morning. I observed my typical pre-bed routine. As soon as I opened the bathroom door, I sensed a reflection of a black streak go across the wall behind me but I blew it off as my exhausted mind playing tricks on me and walked out of the room.
About three hours later, I woke up and immediately regretted drinking a glass of water before bed. I stumbled into the bathroom, half awake, turned the light on and walked past the mirror to the toilet. I got the feeling that I was being watched; but I did not worry too much about it.
Suddenly I heard a strange ‘pop’ sound followed by the electricity going out. Power surges in my neighbourhood were not unheard of, but the fact that I was standing in front of a mirror when this one was a bit unnerving. I quickly washed my hands and groped for the doorknob. Strangely I couldn’t feel the door knob in the darkness, and when I chanced upon it, it wouldn’t budge.
My heart was racing and my breathing became elevated I closed my eyes to avoid looking into the mirror and I felt dizzy. I knew that I would hyperventilate and eventually faint if I did not calm down.
When my attention was drawn again to the mirror, I was stupped to not find a reflection. Instead, I saw a bright, almost glowing body that was at me and smirking which I can describe as pure evil. The eyes were black, hollow, and soulless. They were not my eyes.
I frantically tried to turn the doorknob, but it was still not giving in. The ‘me’ in the mirror moved forward, almost as if it was going to climb right out of the mirror and attack me. Suddenly, I felt a hot and stinging pain go across my chest and around to my back. The pain was so excruciating that I fell to the floor.
After waking up, I found myself in the hospital bed with my mother staring at me, white as a ghost. She told me that my father had found me when he was getting ready to leave for work the next morning. I had passed out on the floor with razor thin, but fairly deep gashes trailing along my chest and back. I did not tell her, the doctor, or anyone else what had caused me to be in such a state because I did not want to be sent away to a mental hospital.
So here I am, waiting on for the doctor to come in, and try all his antics to prove me to be mentally unstable. I know that he carries an assortment of mirrors just to prove to me that my reflection that caused me so much trouble is actually a figment of my imagination. He has convinced my parents too that I see untoward things and last thing I heard this morning was him assigning the number 100 to me as the resent-most entrant to his asylum.
