Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-2240864-20170728235145

Joseph stared longingly into the cracked mirror hanging over his sink. Blood ran down each crack, almost suffusing the glass with his blood. His blood, tears, and shame all mixed in the sink's basin to form a stinking mixture of regret and waterlogged pennies.

“I hate you,” he whimpered at his reflection. He couldn’t even make eye contact with the monster he had become. Alcohol, drugs, sex, and an unquenchable desire for meaning and pleasure had destroyed his life, family, and friendships.

Freedom

“But most of all,” he snarled, bawling up the fist he had not yet used to redecorate, “I hate them. They told me what I was doing was wrong. You keep telling me it’s right. They don’t want me to be happy.”

Freedom

A chunk of glass wriggled itself free from the frame. It slid down the mirror uneasily, leaving a snail-trail of blood in its wake.

“Why can I never find happiness? I’ve done everything you’ve ever wanted. I’ve come close, but never achieved it. I’ve done all the drugs, all kinds of women. I’ve even almost killed myself and nearly been killed over a dozen times. Nothing is exciting. Why. Why? Why!”

''Freedom ''

Joseph punched the mirror. Several shards of glass popped out of the mirror and he briefly reminisced about the one time in Reno when he had to be a dentist and remove a few teeth from a hooker who owed him money. He grinned reflexively.

''I want freedom ''

Joseph stared at his fists. They looked like hot dogs, their delicious juices running out of their freshly microwaved and split forms.

“You showed me what happiness and pleasure could be, but not how to get it. Give it to me you bastard! I asked for this one thing and you have yet to give it to me!”

freemefreemefreeme

Joseph smashed his forehead against the mirror. Blood and glass ran down his face, obscuring his already tearful vision. The mirror was completely shattered. It barely managed to keep itself held in there, what with all the pounding and blood shoving random bits of glass from itself. The pieces that had fallen bounced around, unsure as to protest their removal or to celebrate their freedom.

A low rumbling pervaded the bathroom. The landlord said he would fix that eventually, but had a hard time fixing it after he had his accident. It was a pretty major accident, falling head-first into a blender. After his head was severed, his brains and eyes removed and used as a decorative candleholder.

Not decorative. Functional. Functional.

Joseph says functional. It was an altar. A font for pleasure. A sacrifice.

“Everything! You! Asked for! I did it all! My god why won’t you help me?”

''Free me and everything you ever wanted will be yours ''

“I can’t even see you anymore, Rima. Where are you?”

Say it

“Can you hear me, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I said all those things about you. Please, I just want my family and friends back.”

''SAYIT ''

“I hate you so much, Rima. I want to punch you right in your ugly goddamn face. Come here and let me see you so I can tell you what an asshole you are.”

Say it say it say it say it say it

“I want to be free of you forever. I want you to be free of me, forever.”

As those words tumbled over his tongue and stumbled over his lips, the fallen pieces of the mirror danced about and rose up, slowly floating back to where they belonged in the grand scheme of all things mirror.

You want me to be free?

“Yes!”

''I want you to be free too. Free of this suffering.''

“End my suffering! Show me pleasure! Show me happiness! Show me meaning!”

With a loud blast, the mirror exploded outward, peppering Joseph with shards of glass and metal. Wisps of smoke rose from the pieces embedded in his skull, flesh, and organs. As he lay on the floor convulsing and vomiting bloody glass, a figure formed from the smoke.

“I never said I would provide you with pleasure while you lived, though. You were my ticket out of that prison-plane and back to the ol’ grind of tormenting people. Your pleasure is a release from all the troubles you had here. So what if I caused most to all of them? A demon always keeps his word.”

The demon, still materializing a corporeal form, chuckled with delight at the sight of a plan that had reached its crescendo perfectly. As its physical form manifested, it reached down to Joseph and plucked the still-twitching eyeballs from his skull.

“These will do nicely as payment for services rendered,” the demon said as it popped them into his mouth like a greedy child to sweets. Each one made a soft, barely audible popping sound as they exploded in a burst of viscera and goo in his mouth. “Delicious.”

Reality itself seemed to shudder as the demon became manifest in it. It adjusted its newly formed top hat and playfully teased one side of its almost-comically long moustache. It sauntered over to where the mirror had been and casually kicked the cooling corpse of Joseph out of the way.

“An abandoned truck stop in the middle of nowhere in some forgotten stretch of desert. It’s a hell of a place to call home, kid. But when you make a deal with Rima, your life does go straight to the shitter. However, even I can find the irony in actually winding up living in one. Fancy that, eh?”

Rima stared at the body.

“Oh, right. I’ve barely been back a full ten minutes and yet here I am killing people and gloating about it.” Rima stared at where the mirror had been and imagined he could see his reflection. Adjusting his bow-tie and pulling a cigar from his vest’s pocket, he snickered with glee. Turning toward the door, he flicked open an antique lighter and lit his tobacco stick. Smoke rose from the cigar and waved around in the stagnant bathroom air.

“Ah, delicious chemicals.”  Rima reached for the doorknob, hesitated, and shook his head. He reared back and kicked the door open instead.

“Freedom from that stinking shithole after all these years. Hello world. I have lives to ruin.” 