there's a new mirror on the wall. when i look, it has a ghoulish reflection in the glass, past me. the image appears stuck. i bought it from an antique shop. the owner was glad to see it go. she took my money and said nothing about surprises. i was not prepared for mischief… Continue reading ghoulish + prepare + surprise
the glass acts as a type of portal, separating ancestress from descendant. it's been passed down over the centuries, held onto for dear life and handed down when the call came. the story is that the first one to live out the myth managed to enchant it in her last mortal act, and now the… Continue reading vanished (400)
elastic loose around a wrist; elaborate depiction still in progress. every brushstroke bleeds into another. the depiction hardens, colder now - utterly, heartbreakingly flawless. apply it like a crown - assume nobility, play at ice. (break the mold) destroy the blueprint; this time around we are each other. give me an identity not my own… Continue reading NaPoWriMo 27 (mask)
something's amiss here; your shadow trails me. mirror to mirror, i see you stalling time, freezing motion. we're both trapped here now.
she appears whenever i walk into a room. there's certain criteria of course; the main one is that there needs to be a mirror. it doesn't matter if there isn't a mirror though, a compact will do just fine, (i shattered every compact i had when i found this out) and i've since learned she isn't fussy… Continue reading sworn to secrecy (240)
shattered mirror, shadowed, does not yield a true image. splinters of glass thread my reflection with cracks glittering in the facade. (too many cracks, too little glue) sometimes the broken mirror shows something that doesn't look quite real. sometimes i look at my reflection and wonder "am i real?"
The mirror is crafted of a smoky glass that gives me a new pallor, manipulates my hair colour and warps my clothes. I don't recognize myself right now. I step away, to the normal clear mirror. Too late, my mind has been tricked, the mirrors lying. I don't recognize myself.
we interact as if through a mirror, never quite making contact.
liner, shadow, mascara.painstakingly applied,darkening and contouringshielding the windows to the soul.lip gloss, tint, balm.smudged and smooth,sleek and clean.imagine all i could say.views are distorted.quick glances,one eye closed and a tiny mirror.i never see properly.generally avoiding mirrors.fascinating today,these shadows and lines.i think i see what you see.
Damn you. Just because I don’t want to follow the herd doesn’t mean I want to lead a pack of my own, not that you appear to have realized this. It’s lashing with rain as I unpack the new supplies and set them up in my newly-christened “studio”, a blank room with an easel and… Continue reading Mirror, Mirror