In the Mirror

Jun 02, 2008 - 21:21 PM PST

Sitting alone on her bed, the silence suffocates her senses in to a lull; a silent buzzing ringing in her ears. It was quieter now that her father had died. He was once the life of the house, but with him gone everything seemed to whither into nothingness. A spring unwound itself into her back; creaking and moaning like a tired rusted seesaw. She had to move. Being in one place would drive her crazy, but the thought of movement reminded her that she had life, and that she was still breathing. Although her eyes were shut while she wept her silent tears, opening them made the room smaller. Black shapes moved and twisted on the ceiling, morphing into nameless hues of darkness, then slowly became what were once fan blades, but were now mysterious flower petals blowing in an artificial wind. One toe moved, followed by another until her whole body surged with life as she slithered of the bed to stand. She could not see clearly, but she knew her room well enough to walk in front of the mirror and to stand in front of it. The dreary darkness made it difficult, but she squinted her eyes to focus on the figure staring back at her. A being full of life, yet so lifeless, that is overcome with dark and night. The silhouette gave the being a form as it heaved up in down with every breath, until it became completely still, and slipped back into the darkness from which it came.