Someone once told me that if you looked into a mirror at 3.33 a.m., dark forces would empower your reflection to steal your body, locking your soul in its own prison of glass. It is so strange to believe, right? That demon and evil spirits would use GMT and be ruled by the whims of your digital watch. "Look, the watch shows a pretty number! It's time to steal his soul!" It's a basic problem with me, how I always question the strangest things. Another problem would be the body-stealing thing. It has already happened… to me.
Everyone, hello. I'm Solomon's reflection. I've been a bit shy these past few days, getting to know as many of you as possible, picking up little things here and there. You'd be surprised at what I don't know about his life. Solomon has never ever done homework in front of a mirror before, so it's hard to get things done, because I can't watch him then. I might need a little help in some areas.
I was a little apprehensive about telling this story, but then I figured that no one would believe me anyway, not in any case. I just thought I'd get this whole deception thing off my chest. Oh, and by the way, I'm right handed now. It's these little things that no one seems to notice.
The night it happened, only my body remembers. One moment I wasn't there, and then I was. No tricks of the light, or gradual awakening. Just me, suddenly, staring at the bathroom mirror, wondering at the strange emptiness where a reflection should be.
I cried a lot that night. I remember that I was so scared I didn't even dare to scream. I had no past, leaving me with an unknown future. Perhaps that's why babies cry all the time. And then I found a hand phone, which contained sweet messages that, somehow, I knew by heart. I could hardly read them, of course. Try holding up a passage in front of a mirror and reading it by reflection and you see what I mean. But I knew. Everything around me was so familiar, could they just possibly be mine?
I spent one day waiting for the night to come. Lying in a bed that was not quite my bed, watching people whom I not quite knew, thinking thoughts that perhaps were not quite mine. Just waiting for the night, and what it might bring.
I was standing before my mirror the next night, as close to the time of last night as I could manage. He walked into view the same time as I did, but I think he had been waiting for me. He was my reflection, or was I his? He was looking at me with the sad and hopeful eyes of one who has experienced life as a reflection, which must follow like a shadow and disappear with the slightest changes of position. We just stared at each other across a barrier of glass.
I reached out my hand, and so did he, touching, perhaps, by the magic of clear glass. We held that pose for the longest time, waiting patiently for something to happen. But nothing did, no matter how long we waited, or how many times I tried. I turned my head from his gaze, knowing hopelessness for the first time, but I could still feel his eyes on me, desperate and pleading. At last I walked away, leaving him behind.
Now I can't even look in a mirror anymore. When I do, all I see is the face of the one I trapped within, staring back at me. I don't even know what my face looks like, because it's always screaming. Screaming at me to return his life. But I don't know how to do that. I really don't. Sometimes things get so broken it's better just to walk away.