Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-32764586-20171023203156

Chris stood, hand on his chin, pondering. He contemplated on his past. His mother and father were always very nice to him. He remembered his father always used to him up on a stool that would lead him to the sink. There, his father taught him how to brush his teeth, comb his hair, wash his hands, and other skills a young lad of his age would need to know to lead a healthy life. He held fond memories of his mother, who would bathe him frequently and paint his hands. When his hands were all messy and full of color, he and his mother would press their palms against the glass mirror, creating handprints that would stay there for days, sometimes even weeks. He and his family considered it "interior decoration". He remembered his mother and father would bring him to the circus. His favorite exhibit there was the hall of mirrors, where he would prance along the corridors filled with endless reflections as he tried to find his way out of the maze. He loved the wacky mirrors as well, a strange mirror that contorted his body into all shapes and sizes, most of which caused him to giggle in delight. His mom would hold his hand and smile warmly at him. He felt so much love and satisfaction with his life, his bright happy face was always full of energy and happiness.

That was until he got older. As his age increased, the happiness of life decreased. His parents were rarely with him anymore. Instead, he was often on his own. He had no friends, no one to talk to, not even anyone he loved. It got worse as his life progressed into his teenage years. He almost never saw his parents. He had missed them so much. He just wanted to run back into their loving embrace and feel the warmth... the satisfaction that he now lacked. He had almost forgotten the feeling, but deep down, he knew it was alright. He knew it would be ok because he knew he was meant for this. This life was his and the one he was destined for.

Chris broke from his thoughts and checked the time. With that, he sighed and entered the bathroom. He walked over to the sink and pulled his toothbrush out, sliding it into his mouth and scrubbing the gunk off of his teeth. He then spat the paste and water back into the sink and looked into the mirror at himself. What had once been a small boy had now grown into a young man, and that man was smiling and happy. So, naturally, Chris had to be smiling and happy. The man stroked his chin, as did Chris. He grabbed a stick of deodorant and applied it to his underarm, as did Chris. Before too long the young man exited the room, as did Chris. When the young man exited his room, before him was a hallway where he would walk to the living room and hug his mother and father. Before Chris, there was an endless walkway of doors, each of which contained mirrors, puddles, and glass and the like. Chris frowned, but he knew the moment he entered one of those doors he would need to adjust his mood. Such... was his duty in life. The young man passed entered the living room and passed by a small mirror that sat on the arm of a chair, as did Chris. 