{original} the castle of mirrors
the castle of mirrors
(PG, for brigits_flame. prose, 900 words.)
Notes: Er, this is quite a ways away from the way I normally write. It feels a little odd, and I think in the end I didn't quite fully convey what I wanted to put in this story, but for something that I was expecting would crash and burn, I kind of like it. :D I hope it's still enjoyable...
"Don't get lost," your mother would say if she found out you have undertaken this foolish, fantastical journey of yours to seek your own fortune. "If you get lost I won't be pleased at all, and then where will you be?"
And so you continue bravely on, bravely through those dark woods of legend, those dark woods that everyone you have ever met has warned you away from. "Haven't you heard?! They say people have gone missing from there, and then next thing you know, their bodies are found in a ditch," they'd said. "They say the demons there eat hearts."
You still pretend you know where you are headed.
The trees are your audience, your soul is your company. Your shadow is non-existent, for your audience blocks out all light and you -- and your company -- stand without a spotlight.
There is a castle in the distance. It stands, desolate and alone, upon the mountain from which demons were rumoured to come. You wonder if there are demons living in the castle, or if there is even anything living in the castle.
"I'd like to visit there someday," you murmur to yourself -- or, perhaps, to your soul. "It looks like a nice place."
It grows no closer as the days go slowly by.
You think that everyone must be wrong and there must really be good spirits in those woods -- you are finally drawing near the castle that has, until now, never grown any nearer.
The main entrance is far too imposing for you. You slip through a side door, and are greeted with absolute silence.
"Hello?" you would call. "Pray tell, is anybody here?"
Would call, for the silence is so imposing that you feel if you were to break it something terrible, something indescribable -- the death of your parents, perhaps, or maybe you might lose a leg -- would befall you.
By morning you feel you have your courage back again, or perhaps you have drawn it from the sunlight that is filtering through the windows, laying in beams across the floor.
You tiptoe throughout the rooms, looking for a hint of something; of anything alive. The rooms all feel well-preserved, without even a whisper of life, as if every living thing in this place simply decided one day to leave and never come back.
"Perhaps I shall try again tomorrow," you say to yourself -- quietly, for you wish not to disturb the castle -- as you return to the entrance from which you started.
You tell yourself that it is because that way, you know where you have gone and where you have not, but it is really because you long for something familiar. And that side entrance is as familiar as you will get, here in this dark castle of legend.
Slow days go by. Parts of the castle still remain to be explored. You have forgotten almost completely about your well-intentioned, not-so-well-planned quest to seek your fortune. Or, perhaps, part of you has decided that this is your fortune and the rest of you is still waiting to catch up.
One day, at the top of the stairs in a tower you don't remember going up before, you open the door and face another person. "Oh!" you exclaim in surprise, and the other person exclaims silently along with you until you realize that it is your reflection. And then you frown, because you didn't realize it was really your reflection until now.
"Have I really changed that much?" you ask your reflection, leaning forward and looking at your own face.
As expected, your reflection does not answer.
You return the next day to the room full of mirrors at the top of a tower. You are not quite sure why, because there are still other rooms left to look around in, but you think it might be that your reflections make better company than your soul.
The room is larger than you expected. You sit in the center, laugh and talk to your self -- well, really, to your reflections -- who laugh and talk right back. Or at least you think they do. You can barely notice the light fading, in this room of mirrors, and you think maybe life there wouldn't be so bad.
But it does get late, and eventually you do accept the fact that you must return to your entrance, if only because your few belongings are still there. You stand up and realize that--
you cannot find your way back out of this room.
Your reflections, once so joyful and friendly, seem to be mocking you as they block off all the ways you can think of to get out. "Where will you go now?" they seem to say silently, as you look around desperately. "What will you do now?"
You finally realize you are trapped.
"Do you think there are demons in this castle?" you ask, to nobody in particular. Perhaps you are asking your soul. Or perhaps you are asking your many reflections, staring up at you from the many blood-splashed broken mirror pieces on the floor. "What's that, you say? Ah, I guess so."
You smile. The room is dark, there is nobody there but you.
"That makes sense, doesn't it? If there are any demons here, I would be one too. Wouldn't I?"
Nobody answers.
(PG, for brigits_flame. prose, 900 words.)
Notes: Er, this is quite a ways away from the way I normally write. It feels a little odd, and I think in the end I didn't quite fully convey what I wanted to put in this story, but for something that I was expecting would crash and burn, I kind of like it. :D I hope it's still enjoyable...
"Don't get lost," your mother would say if she found out you have undertaken this foolish, fantastical journey of yours to seek your own fortune. "If you get lost I won't be pleased at all, and then where will you be?"
And so you continue bravely on, bravely through those dark woods of legend, those dark woods that everyone you have ever met has warned you away from. "Haven't you heard?! They say people have gone missing from there, and then next thing you know, their bodies are found in a ditch," they'd said. "They say the demons there eat hearts."
You still pretend you know where you are headed.
The trees are your audience, your soul is your company. Your shadow is non-existent, for your audience blocks out all light and you -- and your company -- stand without a spotlight.
There is a castle in the distance. It stands, desolate and alone, upon the mountain from which demons were rumoured to come. You wonder if there are demons living in the castle, or if there is even anything living in the castle.
"I'd like to visit there someday," you murmur to yourself -- or, perhaps, to your soul. "It looks like a nice place."
It grows no closer as the days go slowly by.
You think that everyone must be wrong and there must really be good spirits in those woods -- you are finally drawing near the castle that has, until now, never grown any nearer.
The main entrance is far too imposing for you. You slip through a side door, and are greeted with absolute silence.
"Hello?" you would call. "Pray tell, is anybody here?"
Would call, for the silence is so imposing that you feel if you were to break it something terrible, something indescribable -- the death of your parents, perhaps, or maybe you might lose a leg -- would befall you.
By morning you feel you have your courage back again, or perhaps you have drawn it from the sunlight that is filtering through the windows, laying in beams across the floor.
You tiptoe throughout the rooms, looking for a hint of something; of anything alive. The rooms all feel well-preserved, without even a whisper of life, as if every living thing in this place simply decided one day to leave and never come back.
"Perhaps I shall try again tomorrow," you say to yourself -- quietly, for you wish not to disturb the castle -- as you return to the entrance from which you started.
You tell yourself that it is because that way, you know where you have gone and where you have not, but it is really because you long for something familiar. And that side entrance is as familiar as you will get, here in this dark castle of legend.
Slow days go by. Parts of the castle still remain to be explored. You have forgotten almost completely about your well-intentioned, not-so-well-planned quest to seek your fortune. Or, perhaps, part of you has decided that this is your fortune and the rest of you is still waiting to catch up.
One day, at the top of the stairs in a tower you don't remember going up before, you open the door and face another person. "Oh!" you exclaim in surprise, and the other person exclaims silently along with you until you realize that it is your reflection. And then you frown, because you didn't realize it was really your reflection until now.
"Have I really changed that much?" you ask your reflection, leaning forward and looking at your own face.
As expected, your reflection does not answer.
You return the next day to the room full of mirrors at the top of a tower. You are not quite sure why, because there are still other rooms left to look around in, but you think it might be that your reflections make better company than your soul.
The room is larger than you expected. You sit in the center, laugh and talk to your self -- well, really, to your reflections -- who laugh and talk right back. Or at least you think they do. You can barely notice the light fading, in this room of mirrors, and you think maybe life there wouldn't be so bad.
But it does get late, and eventually you do accept the fact that you must return to your entrance, if only because your few belongings are still there. You stand up and realize that--
you cannot find your way back out of this room.
Your reflections, once so joyful and friendly, seem to be mocking you as they block off all the ways you can think of to get out. "Where will you go now?" they seem to say silently, as you look around desperately. "What will you do now?"
You finally realize you are trapped.
"Do you think there are demons in this castle?" you ask, to nobody in particular. Perhaps you are asking your soul. Or perhaps you are asking your many reflections, staring up at you from the many blood-splashed broken mirror pieces on the floor. "What's that, you say? Ah, I guess so."
You smile. The room is dark, there is nobody there but you.
"That makes sense, doesn't it? If there are any demons here, I would be one too. Wouldn't I?"
Nobody answers.