"The Museum of Mirrors and the (Mostly) Dead, Pt. 7" - A Surrealist Story in Serialized Form
(Image from The Art of Doing Stuff)
I thought I'd try something out. Since I write so much fiction, I figured I'd try out a new piece on all you Steemers out there. It's dark (like nearly all of my stuff) and long (like a great deal of my stuff). It's one of six stories that will be included in my third collection coming out late next year. You can find my other (fully) posted non-fiction story "Colfax Place" on Steemit here:
https://steemit.com/nonfiction/@bucho/colfax-place-a-piece-of-non-fiction-about-the-midwest
I figure if the first couple of installments of this one pique some interest, I'll keep posting up new sections daily. Per usual, all critiques welcome as long as they're constructive. I'll also keep a running list of links at the bottom of each entry so you can play catch up a little easier.
Mirror #6
“Life/Less”
Date Created Unknown/Unconfirmed
Seemingly Ageless Based on Testing
Found in Greece in 1995
Materials Used:
Bone (animal or human; unclear)
Mirror is polished with a mixture of:
Aqueous humor fluid from one or several eyes from the dead;
Blessed water; infant tears; grain alcohol.
Type of Reflection:
Alternate Moments / Removal of Presence in Time
Normal Planar Reflective Surface
What You See:
The mirror appeared to be framed in wood until you got closer. Finely compressed bones, many somehow still intact and undamaged, were bound together in twine spiraling around the entire length of the frame. Some kind of glue or epoxy was then slathered on, preventing further damage or decay. You could tell that some were the bones of animals; you assumed the others were not. Your stomach curdled a little; the taste of bile rising in the back of your throat, souring your mouth.
The mirror itself contained a milky shine, as if cobwebs had somehow been frozen within, not quite blocking the reflection, but dimming it. Aging it.
The reflection came into focus and then slowly began erasing you, fading you out.
A montage of your memories, from last to first, flipped by in the mirror’s surface, your image quickly being erased from all of them all the way back to your birth. A mother’s belly shrunk and then grew again. The man with her was different, the child that emerged was not you. A new montage flipped by, the you-that-wasn’t began living your life (though it was no longer yours) and making your decisions, altering the outcomes of instances where your simply being there, your saying one right (or wrong) thing, your decision to stay or go changed a multitude of timelines in good or bad ways. New ripples of effect, new scenes of the not-past began muddying up your actual memories. So many of the moments in the mirror’s surface felt familiar for some of their parallels to actual happenings – not unlike a disquieting déjà vu.
When you could watch no longer, you stepped back from the mirror and swallowed. The taste of bile had not disappeared, no matter how many times you tried to swallow it away, yet still you tried and hoped your own memories had not been tainted by the not-memories you’d just seen.
The light on the mirror dimmed down, allowed the room to disappear again briefly before the light above the next one hanging on the adjoining wall to your right came into shine and beckoned you to the next exhibit.
Next time in part 8: https://steemit.com/writing/@bucho/the-museum-of-mirrors-and-the-mostly-dead-pt-8-a-surrealist-story-in-serialized-form
Previous Sections:
Part 1 - https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-museum-of-mirrors-and-the-mostly-dead-pt-1-a-surrealist-story-in-serialized-form