Day 124 - Reflections Story

Reflections Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

Driving 95 on a road meant for 55. There was a bed of rocks on the side of the road instead of a pavement. He overcompensated the wheel and flipped the car.

The windshield shattered.

A tree was in the way.

The tree did not kill him. Michael was sure of that.

He had many such fantasies while driving. Grabbing the parking brake at high speeds and flipping his car. Hitting a patch of ice and sliding off a mountain pass. Closing his eyes and entering oncoming traffic. He had many such fantasies.

But he wasn’t always sure which were fantasies and which were true. He had seen so many things and thought so many things in the last few weeks; he wasn’t sure of what he saw or heard anymore.

The reflections were killing him. He saw too many things in the reflections. He didn’t know or understand what he was seeing, but he knew he was seeing too many things.

He was afraid of his mirrors. He was afraid something was looking back when he wasn’t looking at them. There was always something there, just out of sight, in the corner of his peripheral vision. He found himself turning a lot, switching back and forth between trying to surprise the mirror and catch something in it and trying to always look the other way and never come face to face with his own reflection or what he feared might be there. He couldn’t decide which was worse; seeing it and having to see it and know it, or never see it, never be sure and be safe from it. The idea that he might look and there would be nothing didn’t enter in as a factor. He knew there was something there. He just couldn’t prove it.

Michael’s therapist had asked him why he was nervous all the time. Michael didn’t have an answer. He told his therapist about the reflections, but his therapist took it to mean Michael was suffering from an existential crisis of some sort and that the reflections were symbolic. He didn’t understand that Michael actually thought there was something in the reflection. Had he understood Michael truly believed something was watching him or after him or was just simply there, he probably would have diagnosed Michael with a very real condition. But he had not taken the time to evaluate Michael’s claims as if they were real. Why would anyone think for a second that Michael’s claims were real? For Michael, they were very real.

The mirrors were all covered or taken down. But that didn’t stop the problem. Anything that could create a reflection was the problem – doorknobs, glass windows, faucets, and the shine off a pair of shoes or from a well finished wooden desk or dresser. Michael would have to change them all. There was always something lurking. Something just out of sight. Something in the shadows. He knew as much. He didn’t know what it wanted with him or what it would do with him, but he knew as much.

Michael had a tough time separating the real from the unreal anymore. He knew what he felt and what his senses told him, but he also knew that what they were telling him weren’t supposed to be real. But what was real anyway? How did he define it? He had imagined so many things in the last few days, he was losing track.

Michael knew he liked driving. That was one thing he knew. And he drove fast. That was something he had had always liked. Controlled chaos, he thought. Pushing to the edge and then crossing, just a little bit. In complete control and completely powerless at the same time.

The reflections in the rearview mirror were killing him, of that, Michael was sure. There was something in there, there in the reflection, that he didn’t want to see or know. Michael removed the side and rearview mirrors. He couldn’t have the reflection looking back.

Driving 95.

He couldn’t control much or know much or understand much, but he knew what he could feel in his hands. That was real. That knew what he saw and what was in his control.

As long as he was in control of something, the urges and fears and paranoia was kept at bay.

Don’t look back he told himself. Don’t look back. Don’t look to the sides. Look straight and forward. Don’t look in the rearview mirror. Don’t look back.

In the reflection was death and it would kill him.