Sanguine River

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn’t my own. Weathered layers of depthless scars carved decades of pain, and loss into every facial expression I tried to make. The cloudy veneer of multicolored grime, bloody fingerprints, and years of natural residue smiled back at me with yellow eyes, proud for having the portentous honor of being the only piece of glass in the world that could truly reflect my bestial identity.

Crimson blood flowed like a sanguine river through the deep channels of scar tissue, slowly dripping onto the sloped wall of the white, porcelain sink. The faucet’s handles were each stained with blood that wasn't my own, and shoeless, red footprints trailed off behind me. My mouth was sore, and my jaws were tender to the touch. My chin was split open, and a pool of dried blood had formed a thick crust within the prickly forest of beard hair.

The blue flannel shirt I had on when I left my house earlier that night was now riddled with lacerations, and waves of fresh blood seeped through the torn pieces of cloth, dripping down onto the white tiled floor. The pant legs of my favorite pair of black, Levi jeans were torn from waist to ankle, exposing infected flesh, smeared blood, the brilliant, white shine of my shin bones, and a mural of intricate black tattoos.

I continued to stare into the shifting yellow eyes on the other side of the tainted mirror, while I simultaneously disrobed, and licked away the blood from my chapped lips with my long, split, black tongue.

Naked and exhausted, the icy chill from the evening winter wind slithered through the cracks of the old apartment windows, numbing the hot stings of my countless wounds. Rent was cheap, but over the last month, I had pleaded with my landlord to fix the windows in my unit. The building was decrepit, and always freezing. A few days after having none of my desperate inquiries answered, the body of my landlord was found brutally mutilated on the bank of the muddy river that flows behind my apartment complex. The Anchorage Sheriff’s department’s statement declared that the wounds resembled the viciousness of an animal attack, most likely a bear or mountain lion. Considering we live in Alaska, bear, and cougar attacks were a common occurrence. No one would ever think to point their fingers in my direction. I kept to myself. Minded my own business, and paid my taxes. No one needed to know about my secret.

The mirror’s glass suddenly bubbled, and roiled beneath an invisible flame, as it did every night before torturing me with painful memories I wish didn’t belong to me. The yellow eyes flickered, then vanished behind the tarnished waves, and I was cruelly forced to stare into a replay of the night that changed my life forever. I watched silently as my thirty-three year old face morphed, and transformed into my ten year old self. I watched as I wandered curiously through dark woods. I watched as I tracked deer, foraged for berries, and fished for salmon. I watched as I built fires, and hunted for rabbits with my bow and arrow. I watched as I climbed giant trees, and explored uncharted caves. I watched, as my ten year old body was attacked by three, slender, tall, black shadows with hidden rows of jagged, sharp teeth and acid-spewing, serpent tongues.

I watched as my innocent flesh was torn from my neck, face, arms, chest, stomach and legs. I watched as my bones were broken and discarded to allow the raging mouths to feast on my organs. I watched as my eyes were gouged from their sockets, and squashed beneath the pressure of starving jaws. I watched as my fingers were bitten free from my hands, and I watched as my heart was torn from behind the safety of my ribs with dirty, razor sharp claws. I watched myself bleed out in the soil as the three slender shadows disappeared back into the cave from where they came. I watched myself die.

The mirror bubbled again, and another sequence of even more horrifying memories shone through the glass.

I watched as my deceased body withered, and twitched in the cold dirt. I watched the deep gashes, torn muscles, and gnawed organs regenerate themselves. I watched as new fingers sprouted from each of my hands. I watched as my once dark brown brown eyeballs, which were now yellow, grow with vigor in their sockets. I watched my eyes open. I watched as my new body slowly rose from the ground. I watched as I was reborn into the darkness of our world’s vilest reality. An ancient reality not meant for our world, yet a reality in which I was tasked to punish humanity with.

The mirror bubbled again, and I watched as the murdered faces of the innocent flashed before me in the order of their deaths. I watched as my elongated nails, and carnivorous fangs sank into their tender flesh, tearing out blood soaked organs and milk white bones. I watched as I sank my teeth into my landlord’s neck, tearing away veins, and severing arteries. I watched as I dissected his heart from his chest. I watched as I ate it.

The mirror bubbled a third time, like it always did, and I was once again staring into alien, yellow eyes. My eyes. I hated this mirror because it cursed me to never forget who I was, and what I have done. I also loved this mirror because it was the only object in the world that knew my truth.

The eyes smiled back at me, and I was free to finally relax. I put on a pair of black sweatpants, a long-sleeved black shirt, and a black hooded sweatshirt. I fished a pair of black wool socks from my dresser, turned off all of the lights in my apartment, and relievingly sank my carcass deep into the ripped cushions of the leather sofa I bought on Facebook marketplace after I moved from Boston. I reached for the clicker, and quickly found the channel that was showcasing Harry Potter weekend.

In the center of the coffee table, an opened bottle of a thirteen year old Chateauneuf du Pape, which I solely kept for show, whispered sensual provocations into my ears. So I happily obliged. I made a fist around the cork, and popped it off with ease. I was too relaxed to get back up, and grab a glass from the kitchen, so I proceeded to sip the red liquid straight from the bottle’s mouth.

As my tired eyes fought to watch Harry defeat Voldemort for the final time, I drank the final remains of my dear, and delicious landlord, and allowed my nightmares to whisk me away into the chaotic void which was now my home. My hunger had been satisfied, and my ravenous thirst was quenched.

I was safe. I was alone. I was free. I was home.