HER MIRROR SPEAKS

Posted: November 12, 2013 in Uncategorized
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It was 00:45. She knew it was. It was the first thing she saw
      when she finally opened her eyes and looked up at the clock.
      ‘Thank you Jesus’, she exclaimed with relief. She had to wake
      up; she knew she had to wake up.
   

      ‘What was all that about? God, explain things to me, please,
      I understood nothing’. The next moment, she was off her bed,
      walked eight steps, as usual she counted, to turn on the
      lights. She turned to pick up a book to read but… But she
      couldn’t even get to its reach. Astonishment gripped her feet
      to the floor, she almost couldn’t move.
   

      She looks into the mirror and sees her full image. ‘Jesus!!!’
      She is scared. She is shivering; as though she was looking
      straight at an image that didn’t belong to her. True, that
      isn’t her. Confused. How can one look into a mirror and see
      another but her image? 
   

      She straightens her neck now, closing her eyes slowly and
      hoping to see herself when she opened her eyes again. Now,
      eyes closed, hearts beating at an unusual pace desperately
      expectant of a positive result in the next moment. But she
      couldn’t see anything but pitch black… Sure, her eyes were
      closed. 
   

      Slowly and carefully, she opens her eyes, still fixed to the
      mirror. First second… Second… Fifth… Eighth…
      Twelfth… Fifteenth… Twentieth… Eyes still fixed,
      unuable to blink; maybe because she didn’t want to take her
      eyes off her image… Maybe she only wants to be double sure
      she was seeing what she was looking at… Sixtieth second…
      Sixty-second… A tear falls. If the tear was a result of her
      not blinking for a while or an emotional response to the
      horror staring back at her, she wasn’t particularly sure.
      Utterly confused. 
   

      She sighs. Felt an itch on her scalp but didn’t scratch it;
      she wasn’t sure what she felt about anything anymore, neither
      what she saw. Maybe after a few minutes, things will clear
      up. Besides, she just woke up… Or probably still dreaming.
      She waited for those minutes to pass.
   

      She lifts her eyes to the clock on the wall. It is 01:24. Now
      to the mirror… Appalling? An eyesore? A mistake? Wrong…
      Just wrong? Which was appropriate description, still she
      wasn’t sure. 
   

      But heart beats faster and tears drips down her throat. She
      swallows it hard. She wanted to know all this was as real as
      she was. It was real. It is real. As if it was a marathon,
      she takes off her tank and strips off the rest. She looks
      back in the mirror and it felt… Felt just wrong.
   

      She had wanted to scream out her anger and pain but she could
      only go as far as screaming out soundless breaths with all
      her might. Both hands stuck on her temples, she screamed
      again but then again, without sound. The scream was painful
      and hard… I could tell from the way her head and arms
      shook. I watched her scream at me in the mirror and I could
      only scream back, only that I was too loud she couldn’t hear.
   

      Still shivering, she runs her hands on her face, down her
      belly, and her curves… They weren’t there anymore. Her
      waist beads had sagged down so much that she could easily
      take them off by pushing them down effortlessly for her hips
      couldn’t support them anymore. She did. She took them off. I
      kept staring at her. I wanted to take my eyes off but I just
      couldn’t because she kept staring right at me. 
   

      Finally, I decided to speak but before I could, her legs had
      given up on her and she fell kneeling on her knees. I had to
      do same. She had so much control over me. But I still wanted
      to speak. She had to listen to me. But she wasn’t looking
      anymore. Her head stayed down. She was ashamed of me. If she
      couldn’t look, how could she have listened? She made me sad,
      because she was sad. This sadness felt stuffed up and almost
      unbearable. It was unbearable.
   

      It wasn’t my fault that she stopped eating regularly and even
      forgot to eat often these days. It wasn’t my fault that she
      spend most of the time in bed awake and thinking, often
      worrying. I’d wanted to warn her but she’d never given me
      attention in days. 
   

      I waited for her to lift her head but she never did. Her
      knees gave up too and I couldn’t see from that point. All I
      could hear were cries that sounded almost breathless. I
      wondered how she survived it. I wondered because I wasn’t
      there anymore. She never looked into the mirror so I just
      couldn’t tell. I faded away.
   

      But I am assured of one thing; she is a strong woman and she
      will be alright. She has a strong spirit and a sense for
      radical change when necessary. If you’d ask me, I’ll only say
      one cannot stand all his life. Even when one stands for
      hours, he gets tired and would want to, if not have to, rest
      a while. 
   

      Her fall was unexpected but I know she’ll rise up again. Next
      time she looks into the mirror, when she looks at me, she
      will smile and I’ll smile back proudly, because I believed in
      her. In the end, it will be alright. If it’s not alright,
      it’s not the end.
   

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Comments
  1. sethbosskay says:

    I utterly enjoyed this one, and loved the concluding statement; in the end, it will be allright, if it is not alright, it isn’t the end. Great one there

  2. dede tetteh says:

    This is a nice one..keep it up…

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