Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-5306249-20190702052452

I was trying out a new form of prose that relies on being esoteric and almost Lynchian. Wondering if i’m headed in the right direction with this one.

——

There is something wrong with my bathroom mirror.

There’s a hole in it, big enough to obscure at least my entire head. And it does just that, twenty four seven. I don’t know when it appeared or how: I only know it makes seeing my own face rather difficult. Even if I attempt to “side step” it, edge towards the very end of visibility within the glass, the hole also slides along with me, making a peculiar crackling noise.

I don’t like it very much. I called my cousin Jeremiah over to fix it yesterday. He couldn’t so much as approach it, cowering in fear before sprinting away from my home. “That hole is there to stay,” he stuttered. He tells me I should leave now.

Except I don’t think I can. Leave my house, that is. Everytime I try, i can hear a peculiar tune vibrating towards me on the air, a familiar yet esoteric melody that haunts my brain. I think it comes from the bathroom. If I’m too far away, it comes from the vents at night. Those times, it sounds more like dull chatter rather than music. Its at this point I remember my previous obligations.

Today I decided I’d take a flashlight and shine it into that open maw. Its long and oblong, maybe six inches tall and a foot wide. The light that doesn’t reflect back to me sinks an unquantifiable distance into the hole. But my beam is strong and can illuminate the dozen or so figures idling around in nothingness.

They look like porcelain, with thin leaky cracks stemming from their wobbly joints. Some are missing limbs. Some are simply floating torsos. There is even a singular floating eye in the mix.

When I shine my torch inward, they all turn to look at me, and I see a myriad of my own face looking right back, vacant smooth eyes betraying no emotion.

None of them make an attempt to escape. That’s good.

In the last 20 years I’ve lived here not a single me has tried to break through the mirror, and even with a new escape route they seem disinterested more than ever.

Although, at night I’ll lie in bed and think I catch one or two phrases, individually meaning nothing. Usually its “looking”, sometimes its “trimming”, other times it might be “grinning” or “washing”. Sometimes I even hear them say “thinking”.

Tonight, I think I heard one of them say “Usurp”. 