Reflection: Shattered World
Jenna Cravens

Chapter One:

    Blue eyes stand out amongst other facial features, popping out brilliantly against skin tones and browns. I tilt my head to the side, watching as the blue eyes move in sync with me.  Those blue eyes are filled with skepticism, and confusion. Warily I watch the mirror’s reflection as I turn different directions. I could have sworn there was a different image staring back at me just a few moments ago; a battle field, bloody and in ruins, bodies scattering the broken and blood-soaked earth floor.
    I shook my head as I recalled the image, really just a blur, shadows depicted what I thought were bodies. The flash of color across the mirror could have been anything, very liekly my imagination.
    I sighed at the impossible then continued buttoning my jacket and lacing my boots for work, bent on forgetting the odd occurrence. Something, however, was not going to let that happen. Odd images flashed on every reflective surface I glanced at, from my rear view mirror to the glaring, reflective glass windows of my office building. Every blurred scene was different, ranging from gory battle fields to a small, dirty child seeming to look right at me. They each looked so real when I glimpsed them, so detailed and seemingly tangible, but within a millisecond they ere gone, soon to be replaced with a blurred smudge in my memory.
    I started avoiding any reflective surface I could and dreading the drive home because of the need for the mirrors. By the end of the day I was paranoid and frustrated. I talked myself into feeling confident as I slid into the car, clutched the steering wheel tightly, and, determined to prove to myself that I was not insane, looked straight into my rear view mirror, still expecting the glimpse of scenery.
    Steady yellow eyes stared back at me. My body seemed to freeze. Blood pounded in my ears…I waited for the image to blur and pass as the others, but it never went. The yellow eyes continued to stare, and my breathing ceased in the time it took my mind to realize that this was impossible. Drawing on that logic I blinked and then slowly lifted my hand to the mirror. I was relieved when my fingers hit the cool, hard, smooth surface of the mirror, though I don’t know what I was expecting to find otherwise.
    I think it was because of the stress and frustration I’d felt all day at attempting to avoid any reflective surface that made me laugh; an uneven, slightly hysterical laugh though it was. It was then that I felt movement underneath my fingers. The laughing stopped immediately. The face of the mirror was rippling. I could feel waves of the suddenly liquid substance move under my fingers.
    I stared in silent horror as silvery liquid strands stretched out of the mirror and wrapped loosely around me. They pulled me towards the mirror and as I came closer my hand, which never left the mirror’s surface, sunk deeper and deeper into the mirror. How, I’ll never know, but in a few seconds my entire form slid through the tiny, watery film that was the rear view mirror, and into a world that was almost parallel to my own but under a chaos unrivaled by any catastrophe I’d ever encountered.