#Horror Bites 3 : The Mirror Spoke

I watched the adjacent train tracks moving past the window, then watched her translucent reflection the glass.

I knew the other track wasn’t moving, rather, the train we were on was moving. But since we were stationary on the train, our movement created the illusion of the world moving past train’s windows.

Everything changes, depending on how you look at it, how you choose to understand it.

She kept watching the world go past, as I kept watching her reflection in the glass. But as time passed, her reflection started watching me. Then, it began to speak.

“Why?”

I know I didn’t speak, but I heard my answer anyway, “Why what?”

“Why doesn’t it end?”

“What doesn’t end?”

“This dream.”

“Dream?”

She began to cry. I saw the tears fall from her eyes. “This nightmare.” She brushed tears from her eyes, “This life.”

Through her tears she whispered, “I killed them. To spare them. To save them. From life.”

I couldn’t look away from the darkness, the longing, and the pain in her reflections eyes, as it looked at me. The reflection reached from the glass, her fingertips brushed my cheek. “But there is no one to spare me. To save me. From life.” I felt her desperate longing to be free, and knew I would help her any way I could.

Those translucent hands moved my hands to the woman’s neck. Those pleading eyes. Those tears. “Will you save me from life?”

I had to do what she had asked. And my hands squeezed tightly around her throat, and stayed there, until she no longer breathed. Her reflection smiled as it faded away. “Thank you,” her eyes came alive, “for saving me.”

“Your welcome,” I whispered as I removed my hands from her neck. “Now, you are free.”

299 Words
@LurchMunster


I wrote this for the third round of Laura James‘s new flash fiction challenge, #HorrorBites. Please go read all the other #HorrorBites stories. They are well written, and just might scare you.

#ThursThreads Week 110 : Why Should I?

Cynthia Gardner methodically observed her image in the mirror, carefully tuning the texture around her eyes, shifting the position of nano-machines, projecting just the right color in just the right space. Getting the details right was important. She had to look human. Real. She even practiced breathing, moving her abdomen and chest like real humans did when they breathed.

She looked at the pictures of clothing from the magazines on her table, and carefully shifted parts of herself around, forming the image of shoes, denim jeans, a bra, and a loose-fitting t-shirt.

She practiced moving, watching her hair.  It wasn’t easy to get the individual hairs on her head to move realistically.

“Perhaps I should develop a relationship with a human male.” It would be difficult. She would need to simulate all the proper body parts to convince a male they were real.

“Laura, at work, speaks of her male friend.” She recalled the way Laura’s eyes and body moved when she spoke of him. The subtle shifts in her biochemistry, blood flow, and skin temperature. Laura often said, “He’s so hot. And he knows what a girl likes.”

Cynthia made sure her lips were the proper shade of lipstick red. She remembered Laura saying, “Girl, you need to find a man.”

“Why should I?”

“It’d make you more human.”

Cynthia knew, it was time to improve her simulation of a human female to include a pairing with a human male. So people would think she was more human.

249 Words
@LurchMunster


I wrote this for Siobhan Muir‘s #ThursThreads, Week 110, the last week of the Month Of Love Challengs on #ThursThreads. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are good reading.