Written by Fantasy Girl
Mirror, mirror: In a silver landscape of ice-covered trees, a mirror stands on its own, out-of-place, lonely.
Image Courtesy of lets-not-be-perfect.blogspot.co.uk
‘A dream is a wish the heart makes!’ that’s what she always told me – my mother that is. She said, ‘we dream of the things we wish for but know will never come true.’ But my dreams do, and they always have done… she just never listened.
A mirror. That’s how it always starts. In a silver landscape of ice-covered trees, a mirror stands on its own, out-of-place, lonely. I walk up to it. It’s just a mirror, right, how much harm can it do?
It changes.
Ripples come from the centre, like when you drop a pebble into a still lake. The reflection, it’s still me, but it’s moving. She smiles at me, her eyes, my eyes, silver like the forest around me; around us. She curls her index finger, slowly and deliberately with a wry smile on her face, beckoning me to follow her, and turns her back and walks away from me, her hand-held out behind her, albeit when your lover is walking behind you. I follow. Just like I always do, but I don’t know why, yet I know how this will end – A terrorist attack, a tsunami, they’ve all come true. So, I follow. But this time it’s different. Continue reading →
Inkblots and Typing Spots 