Multiple Realities

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. At first, I thought it was just a trick of the light, a momentary glitch that would soon disappear. But as I looked closer, I realized that I was wrong. The figure in the mirror was unmistakably human, but it was not me.

It was an old man with a haggard face and sunken eyes that seemed to follow me wherever I moved. His lips moved soundlessly, as if trying to communicate something to me, but I could not hear a word.

I felt a shiver run down my spine and stepped back, hoping to break the connection between the old man and me. But the reflection remained, and the longer I looked, the more I realized that there was something horribly wrong with it.

It was as if the mirror had captured a fragment of the old man's soul, trapping it inside the glass. His eyes were full of pain and desperation, and I could see a hint of fear lurking in the depths of his gaze.

I tried to look away, but it was too late. The mirror had already cast its spell on me, and I was powerless to resist its pull. The old man's reflection drew me closer, beckoning me with a bony finger that seemed to reach out from the other side.

I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should break the spell and turn away. But something inside me urged me to keep looking, to explore the dark depths of the mirror's power. So I stepped forward, my fingers brushing against the cool surface of the glass. As I did, I felt a sudden chill, as if the mirror was sucking the warmth from my body.

The old man's reflection grew stronger, his features becoming more distinct as he drew me closer. I could see the lines etched into his face, the wrinkles of age and suffering that had marked his life. Then, just as I thought I could stand it no longer, the mirror shattered into a million pieces, sending shards of glass flying in all directions.

I stumbled back, gasping for breath, as the shards embedded themselves in my flesh. The old man's reflection was gone, but I could still feel his presence, as if he had somehow become a part of me.

I ran from the room, my heart pounding, racing from the adrenaline building through my veins from the fear. Tears streaming down my face. I didn't know what was happening to me, but I knew it wasn't good. The pain in my body was excruciating, and I could see the blood oozing out from my wounds.

As I stumbled down the hallway, I heard a faint whisper behind me. I turned around, but there was nobody there. The whisper grew louder and louder until it was a deafening roar in my ears. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest.

Suddenly, I felt a cold hand on my shoulder, and I spun around. The old man was standing there, his face contorted in anger. His eyes piercing me as he spoke in a language I couldn't understand.

I tried to run, but my feet just wouldn't move. The old man's grip tightened on my shoulder, and I screamed in terror. Just then, I heard a voice calling out to me. It was my mother, and she sounded worried.

I woke up with a start, thinking that it had all been a nightmare. I looked around and saw that the mirror was still intact, and there were no shards of glass on the ground.

Still shaking from my dream, I got out of bed and started towards the window. It was a beautiful day outside, and the sun was shining brightly. As I took a deep breath, I felt a sense of relief wash over me.

The door opened and that was when I knew It had not been just a dream. There was a lady standing there speaking to me dressed in her long flowing gown that swept the floor when she moved. She came whisking across the floor as though she had been swamped with duties to fulfill and no time to do any of them. Her dress had a fitted bodice with a high neckline, bordered with lace around the collar. The sleeves fitted and long with lace cuffs at the end. The waistline was cinched with a corset to create an hourglass silhouette. The fabric woven with maroon cotton and an accenting beading trim.

the mirror, must have been a time portal that took me back to a time that I was not familiar with, now leaving me stranded until I could figure something out.

Who was I supposed to be now? Was I the old man? Or was I someone new altogether? Panic set in as I realized the enormity of my situation. Looking back into the reflection I could see I was me but in his body. How would I survive without the modern conveniences I was accustomed to? How would I communicate with people who spoke a different language and lived in a completely different era?

These thoughts raced through my mind as I gazed at his reflection in the antique mirror. It was clear that I had to make a decision and fast. But which path should I choose? Stay and try to adapt to the new world, or risk using the mirror again in hopes of finding my way back home?

I would have to take a moment or two to figure out how to get back to my own time line, but with no time this morning as the lady who commanded the morning’s attention from my sleep said “The morning is passing by, and so too will my life if all I choose to do is stay here and lie in the bed all day.” For now, all I could do was take a deep breath and take my first steps into this unknown land, hoping for the best.