. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . where ImagInatIon comes to play

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Punctured

part vi:
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Sometime just before dawn, she found herself in the bathroom, uncertain how she had come to stand before the mirror. Was she sleep-walking again? She didn’t recognize the eyes staring back at her.

The sun shone on the glass then and the mirror cracked. Shards of glass came speeding towards her and the fifteen year old girl she once was materialized in each glass fragment that flew by her. The woman shrieked an endless scream of terror.


Jane awoke with a cry, drenched in her sweat. She felt so disoriented. She made her way to the washroom and poured cold water on her face and neck. When she came to standing, she was facing a mirror not so different than the one in the dream that had woken her.

She reached for what she thought to be a blemish on her forehead. When she realized it was blood, everything came flooding back - the nightmare fourteen years ago, spotting him in the crowds at Sturgis the day after her aunt's Tupperware party, deciding to follow him into Montana, the blood. . . Oh the blood.

She fell to the floor, and curled up on the cold, unfamiliar black and white tiles of the one star hotel, she wept.
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