Empty Eyes

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. Big round empty eye sockets stared back at me. I scanned the mirror to see if I could recognize the rest of the face, but I couldn't see anything beyond the empty eye sockets. I could never get beyond the vast darkness of the holes. I was scared the first time I saw the empty sockets, but as time has pushed on, I've become more curious about the darkness. Now I stare intently into the abyss, hopeful that the void will welcome me home and that I will be sucked through the sockets. Maybe they're a portal. I stand and stare in the mirror every day.

The darkness and emptiness give me hope, and I imagine my whole body sucked into the right eye socket. Swallowed head first stretched out like a rubber band pulled taunt. Collapsing onto the ground in another universe. I lie there staring up at a dark sky dotted with bright twinkling stars smattered upon it like a black canvas splattered with white paint. I turn to my left, and a yellow python slithers toward me, and I jump away, heart racing and trying to scream out, but no sound leaves my throat, and I struggle to get away. My body feels heavier than ever before, and I realize I must be on a different planet—one with greater gravity than earth. Time seems slower, and when I can pull my body away, I turn back to see the beady eyes of the snake, but it is gone.

Not sure where I am or where the snake has slithered off to, I survey the landscape and realize the ground is white and is in stark contrast to the blackness above. The transition from the ground to the sky along the horizon is stark, and suddenly I'm scared and desperately want to go back. As soon as I think the thought, I'm sucked back through the portal and back in front of the mirror, staring at the empty eye sockets. Is this me now? I reach up to touch my eye, and as I attempt to place my finger in the empty eye socket, I feel the chill of my fingers on my cheek. In the center of my belly, I feel sick. A wave of fear fills me up, and I feel myself trying to take a deep breath to calm my stomach. I force my index finger from my cheek toward my eye, ready to accept the emptiness. I reach the base of the socket, and as I press, I feel resistance instead of a void. Inside I feel empty, and I start to wonder whom I am looking at in the mirror. I feel the blood drain from my face when I realize it isn't me.

I step back from the mirror and turn away, and as I turn in my bathroom toward the tub peeking out from behind the shower curtain are the beady eyes of the yellow python, and this time I can run away. Out into the hallway, down toward the front door. I grab the handle and try to unlock the door at the same time, and I can't get the door open, and my fear intensifies. Pulling desperately thrashing, I catch sight of myself in the mirror to the left of the door, and this time there are eyes that are more startling than the empty sockets, and I stop and stare at myself for the first time in a long time. I zoom in and out on each eye. They are both there, and then I wonder if I can see my face, and fear washes over me, but I am brave and look for my face, and I realize I can only see one element of my face at a time—one eye. My nose, my lips, my forehead, and each cheek, and I try to recreate my face from each piece. I stand, struggling to find myself in the mirror. I need to see myself again, and I squint to focus my eyes on the whole as opposed to each piece. I start to come back into focus, and I see myself again, but for how long? Haunted.