Search Engine |
Random Story |
Written for HT100 Challenge #94: Mirror Image
Sometimes he doesn't recognize his own face, reflecting off the corner of his eye in the small mirror hanging on the wall from across the bunks.
Six o'clock in the morning, always on queue. One of those funny things about prison; waking up every day at the exact same hour, when there's absolutely no place to go to. No place to be on time for.
Six o'clock. It becomes alive.
The soulless, faceless, breathless monster.
I open my eyes and blink. Stare up at the cracks spreading over the ceiling. One more crack, this morning. One more vein. Drained.
I blink again.
And there he is, off the corner of my eye - moving. Just like me.
With my elbow sticking outside the blanket, my white T-shirt.
His white T-shirt.
I close my eyes again, if only for a second.
I want to forget he exists.
I want to forget everything.
I want to remember what I forgot.
Sometimes I think...sometimes I think he'll suck it all in. The shape, the substance. One of these mornings, he'll turn over on his side, stare at me and force me to stare back.
I can feel his breath on my cheek at night.
He forces me to.
Please send feedback to Ralu.