reflection

It’s... different, the way the light catches on the glass. The mirror was broken years ago, but it still sits in its frame, cracked and shattered, lines running from the break like spider silk. The face that looks back is not the same as the one that looks in. The face is broken in pieces, a mouth here, a cheek there. Two eyes staring back from five different shards, glinting in the light. It’s uncanny. It’s the same face, but it’s not the same person.

You can almost imagine the glass is water and the cracks ripples, spreading from the impact. The farther from the centre you get, the more spread out the breaks are. There are less shards that fit in the hand and more open spaces, pieces of mirror that could make their own mirrors.

On the other side of the glass is a different world. So similar. So different.

A solid image has been broken into thousands of pieces. There’s no way to fit them together again. Just grab the broom and sweep up the mess. Don’t mind the eyes staring back at you, almost catching your gaze, but just out of sight. Don’t pay attention to the fingers clawing at the glass, scrabbling for a way out. The mouth is open in a scream, silently crying your name, a plea for help over and over again. It’s okay. It’s only a reflection.

(June 24th 2009. Prompt: reflection.)