Revealing Reflections

        “Class dismissed!” exclaimed Mr. Miller, the English teacher, “And don’t forget to work on your project, it’s due this Friday.”

“We won’t,” replied most of the class in a dull tone, except for me. I was actually very excited for this project and had been waiting since Mr. Miller had told us about it on the first day of school. So whilst all of the other kids were bummed out by this project and replied in monotone voices, I shouted out joyfully. I, for one, have always loved to write. My name is Quintin and writing is my escape from the real world and can take me anywhere I desire whenever I want. But unlike many others, my favorite type of writing is poetry. Something about short, but to the point, lines, the infinite different types, and basically everything just made poetry stand out from the rest. That’s why when Mr. Miller announced that the project would be a five page poetry book, I couldn’t help but show my excitement. 

        On my way home from school, I started to brainstorm some ideas for what I could do. I could do all free verse poems or maybe even rhyming scheme. But in the end I decided to write 5 different poems, one each day, finishing on Friday. While walking I thought I heard a ruckus going on and my curiosity got the better of me, so I turned around to see what was up. Right behind me I saw John, one of my classmates, lighting a cigarette and blowing smoke in some poor kid's face at the park. Seeing this enraged me and I wanted to go over there and yank the cigarette from his mouth, but something told me that this would only make it worse. Instead of focusing on this and letting it ruin my day, I just kept walking towards my house. I hated seeing people like John, the people who throw away their life just to look cool. I’ve always thought that the world would be a better place without people like him. 

        At my house I opened up a packet of paper, pulled one out, and started writing the first poem for the project. My pencil dragged across the paper so fast that it didn’t even feel like I was writing it. Soon enough, I looked back and read my finished work. 

            There I stood standing still as a rock,

Watching the thing just across the block,

On the swings it swung back and forth,

Looking up towards the north,

A roll of paper in its mouth ,

Whilst I stood watching from the south,

The paper in its mouth smoldering ,

Bolstering,

It’s ego,

But he might has well been playing at a casino,

For in the night he should never wake up, 

Making their life end quite abrupt, 

        “Sigh, it’s not the greatest thing I’ve ever written, but it will do.“ I said to myself as I placed the paper in a folder. After this I got up out of my chair and went to place the folder in my backpack. Soon after I turned off the lights, I got into bed and closed my eyes.

        “Ok class it’s time for me to take attendance,” said Mr. Miller. “When I say your name, say here.” While Mr. Miller was calling out names, I took the time to try and think what my poem should be about, but I wasn’t too sure. I guess I’m going to be hoping for some inspiration later today. Once Mr. Miller got to my name, I said, “Here!” loud and clearly, but something was off. I looked to my right, and saw an empty desk. This wasn’t necessarily unusual, people are absent all the time, I thought. But for some strange reason this time it felt so odd like I knew the reason they were gone, but not really. Once Mr. Miller got to the empty desk, he called John's name and there was no response. 

“Looks like John’s not here today,” said Mr. Miller as he continued calling the names. Once done, Mr. Miller began talking about something but I didn't hear a word. I don’t know why, but John’s absence just felt so weird to me and a strange feeling stuck with me the rest of the period.

        On my way home I looked for John in the usual spots he liked to hang out in, having a suspicion that he might have skipped school, but didn’t find him in any of them. After a while, I gave up and started heading to my house. On the way I was speed-walking to get back home as soon as possible. When I turned a corner quickly there was a person right around it leading to me hitting them, falling over, and dropping my backpack. When I looked up, it was one of my classmates: Alisa. Right after the tumble, they began to apologize profusely. I just ignored them and kept walking towards my house, as I didn't have time to be delayed any longer  since I had homework. On the way into my house, I checked the mailbox to grab the newspaper. Opening the door and sitting on the couch, I opened the paper and started reading. Most of it was nothing out of the ordinary, just your usual news, but in one of the deeper pages of the paper, there was a section I had never seen before: It was titled “Missing Children of the Area” and had pictures and names of all of them. To my shock I saw John’s face and name, big and right there on the page. I was so shocked that I jumped up and nearly fell off the couch. How is that possible? I saw him in the park just the other day. There was no way he just vanished out of thin air, something was up. The news of John’s disappearance stuck with me for a long while, but I didn't have time to just sulk the whole day, I needed to write my next poem. I pulled out a sheet of paper, a pen, and began writing. 

            A statue stood higher than all

Towering over even the tallest of buildings 

Looking down upon those lower to them

Watching carefully each and everyone of their actions

Just one step out of line and you would be forever tarnished 

One day a girl was walking forwards unaware of what was in front of them

Stupidly looking down as they walked ever closer

The statue watched knowing what was about to happen

The girl crashed into the statue and fell over

Not knowing what she had just done she continued walking

But the statue noticed, it always noticed 

After that the statue nor anyone else ever saw that girl again.

            Once I had finished writing the poem I was extremely exhausted and decided to go to bed.    

    I awoke expecting to find myself laying in bed listening to my alarm clock. But instead I was met with darkness. I rubbed my eyes to make sure they were open but it was all pitch black. I got up and looked all around me and saw a dark void all around me. In the distance, there was  only one source of light in the whole area. An oval light that looked like it was coming from a spot light, but when I looked up there was no source. Walking over to the light something began to take shape. In the center of the light, there was an old looking movie projector sitting on a stand. I clicked a button on the projector and watched as it began to shake and shutter. Eventually something began to take form in the space in front of it. Extremely static pictures, too static to tell what they were, were going by as it began to play loud noises. 

“Leave me alone” said a weird childish voice from the projector.

“I'd rather not” exclaimed a much older sounding voice “now hand over the money and I’ll be on my way.” 

Shortly after that I could hear a startled scream followed by a scream of pure terror. Then a snapping tumbling noise ending with a loud snap. Then there was silence until slowly a quiet muffled cry began to play. I sat there listening to the cry for what seemed like hours then I heard something else: laughing. The laughing sound sounded as if it were coming from Satan himself as it echoed on the non-existent walls. Then suddenly the sound cut back to the crying and then the laughing got louder and quicker each time until. CUT. The projector had run out of film and stopped moving entirely. Moving backwards away from the projector, terrified by what it might show me next, I stepped back. But what I thought was solid ground was actually a gaping pit almost invisible inside the darkness. I stumbled over the edge and began falling fast as the screams I had heard played in my head. I could feel the wind rushing by as I fell to my doom. Then I saw it, the ground, rapidly approaching. I closed my eyes and braced myself for impact but it never came. When I forced my eyes back open there I was lying in my bed in a pool of my own sweat.

        Looking at my alarm clock, I realized I had woken up way earlier than usual. I tried to go back to bed but couldn’t, too terrified that if I did I would relive that nightmare all over again. After some time of just lying in bed I decided to make use of my time and clean myself up in the bathroom. Getting up out of my bed I noticed that my arms were quite sore and wondered why. I didn't really do anything strenuous with them yesterday but here they were barely lifting me out of bed. Once I was up, I headed to the hallway where the bathroom was located. Turning on the lights, I entered the room and looked at myself in the mirror, I looked like a mess. My hair was in shambles, my whole body was shaking rapidly, and lastly I had huge dark hollows under my eyes as if I hadn’t had sleep in days. I did my normal morning routine of taking a shower, brushing my teeth, and doing my hair, but none of that could fix my eyes. After all that, I headed downstairs to the dining room. There I sat down and looked at the clock counting down the minutes until I had to leave for school. 

      It was a long and grueling walk to school. My whole body felt exhausted, and each noise I heard felt ten times louder than they should be. When I finally entered my first class it felt like I was going to pass out of pure exhaustion. By the time I had made it to the last period of the day, Mr. Miller’s class, I was practically dragging myself through the front door. Once I sat downб I could immediately feel the relief of not having to stand for any longer. Then Mr. Miller began to talk.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard the terrible news of John’s disappearance but I don't want you to worry, the police have plenty of people searching for him, it’s only a matter of time until we find him,” said Mr. Miller in an encouraging tone, but to me, for some reason,  it felt like he was lying. Then Mr. Miller began to take attendance, my head on the desk, I heard my name be called and I tiredly said, “Here.” I was so unaware of my surroundings that I didn’t even realize Alisa was absent until Mr. Miller called out her name. Once Mr. Miller got no response from her,  the class began to erupt into chaos.

“Did she go missing too?!” Exclaimed a random student.

“I wonder what happened to her,” said another. 

After some time of that and some failed attempts to get the class under control, Mr. Miller screamed out “SILENCE!”. The whole class including me was stunned. I had never heard Mr. Miller get angry in my life, I didn't even think it was possible.

“I’m sure she’s fine, not everyone who is absent from class is immediately missing. She’s probably just out sick, now calm down,” said Mr. Miller in an annoyed voice, “Now let’s get back to class.”

The rest of the period was just your average class with only a couple of people in the back whispering. Once I heard the bell ring I began to pack up and head to the hallway. Right outside the classroom there was some big blockade between a teacher and a student. 

“How many times do I have to tell you Mike you can’t just use your phone in the middle of my class” said the teacher

“Ugh, whatever teach, it won’t happen again,” said Mike.

After that, the crowd began to disperse, giving me a path to the exit. Not wasting my opportunity, I began quickly walking towards the door.

        Back at my house I was laying on the couch flipping through the newspaper, checking for anything interesting. I stopped to read a short story that was posted in it for inspiration for the poem I had to do today. Then I remembered something and picked the paper back up again. I flipped to the page I was looking for and decided to check my suspicion. On the missing persons page John was still there, his dark eyes staring back at me. But there was a new face in the list, Alisa’s. I dropped the paper and stared into the distant wall, dumbfounded by what I had just seen. Some time later, I tried to write a poem for the project but mainly just spent time thinking about the disappearances. After sitting there and doing basically nothing for around an hour I decided to just head to bed, maybe I can write better tomorrow. Turning off the lights, I got into my bed and tried to fall asleep. Even though I was extremely exhausted, I found it hard to sleep. But eventually I could feel my eyes slowly closing.

        I opened my eyes hoping I’d be lying in bed, the sun shining through my window, and the alarm clock ringing. I hoped I could just roll over out of bed and head to school. But I think deep down inside I knew that when I opened my eyes, I would see the familiar colorless void surrounding me. Getting up was disorientating and I could barely tell what direction I was looking, for the only thing I could see was myself. Why did I have to dream of this again? Why couldn’t have I just dreamed about something nice? Hell, why am I dreaming at all? After a while of internal complaints, I just accepted the fact that I was here again and would have to deal with it. I turned all around me looking for anything in the void, but when I did my heart sank. A familiar buzz in the distance coming from the only thing out here with me: the movie projector, a spot light still shining down on it. I looked at it for a long while trying to build up the courage I needed to even think of walking over there. Eventually I decided to move, not towards the spotlight, but away. I walked in a straight line in the opposite direction of the only light source for what looked like miles. But after a while of this I realized I wasn’t making any progress, the projector was still as close to me now as it was before. No matter what I do, I can’t escape this thing. Let me think, what got me out of here last time? But I knew what I needed to do, I was just trying to delay the inevitable. I walked over to the projector, defeated, and turned it on. The familiar screen showed up on the non existent wall once again as I sat and watched. Oddly enough however the projection wasn't blurry and pixelated as I thought it’d be. I could see the images clearly as they began to scroll on by, one by one. But the people on screen did not look so random anymore, it was me but much younger on the screen standing next to someone much bigger that I couldn’t remember.

“Leave me alone,” child me said as I tried to walk away from the situation.

“I'd rather not. Now hand over the money and I’ll be on my way,” exclaimed the much older looking boy while putting out his hand.

The moment the bully did so, kid me turned around and pushed him away. But unaware of his surroundings, kid me pushed him away towards the stairs. The bully yelped as he began to tumble down the steps followed by a loud crack as his head hit the concrete. The younger me, in shock, walked down the stairs to where the body lay. The kid shook the body as if trying to get it to wake up, when he got no response he ran away. Then the footage cut to me sitting in an alleyway crying as I walked back and forth in a panic. Then the footage cut again, I was still in the alleyway, but this time I didn’t look so sad anymore. In fact I had a smile on my face as I cackled. Again the footage cut later in time again and there I was crying again. Then back to laughing and back again. It began to cut back and forth so fast I couldn’t even tell what was happening anymore, it looked like I was splitting in two . And then it happened, CUT. The projector had run out of film and turned off. Instead of backing away, I decided to turn around away from the light. As I expected, a giant hole had appeared in the ground, and I knew what I had to do. I gladly walked off the edge and fell to the floor, nearly dying of joy before the ground killed me.

        I awoke with such a sudden jump, adrenaline running through me, that at first I didn’t even realize how much agony I was in. I was still exhausted, even after sleeping for eight hours. Then that’s when I saw it, a drop of crimson red, fall in front of my eyes and land on my sheets. I went to touch my forehead with my hand and it felt wet. I looked at my hand and it was covered in blood all over, some dry, some wet. In a panic I went to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Not only did the deep hollows in my eyes get worse, but I also had a giant bleeding gash in my forehead. I ran down stairs to the garage to get the first aid kit for some heavy duty bandages. I opened the shelf where the kit should be but was not met with what I wanted. It was Mike or should I say Mike's head lying on the shelf next to the first aid kit. I fell over in shock, this had to be a dream, I must still be dreaming. Who would have killed Mike, there was just no way. Then a thought came over me: did I kill him? But that was stupid how would I have killed him, he was alive yesterday, and I was fast asleep in my house during the night. Or was.I Iit would explain me being so tired and the hallows under my eyes. Also if I didn’t kill Mike, how did his head end up in my house. It was all so confusing, so confusing that I had completely forgotten I was bleeding until I started becoming light headed from the gash in my head. I would have to solve this mystery later, for now I need to treat my wound or Mike wouldn’t be the only body in my house. I grabbed the med kit and ran to the bathroom to begin to apply the bandages to my head all the while I was still thinking about how the hell Mike's head was in my house. Once I had finished, I saw the time and realized I was going to be late for school. I quickly packed up my things and ran to school. I’ll have to worry about Mike later.

        Once I entered the school I was the talk of the town. Going to school covered in giant bandages will do that to you. I was asked so many questions about how I got injured or anything along those lines. But the thing is, I didn’t even know. I just told them I fell over even though I could clearly see some of them were quite skeptical about this response. Eventually I was in my final class of the day with Mr. Miller. At my desk I was still thinking about Mike and how his head was in my house. Should I tell the police, or should I just keep it a secret? I didn’t know what to do. Finally, I decided I would tell someone once I had figured out the situation myself. The moment I heard the familiar ring of the school bell I was out the building before any of the other students had exited their classrooms. I made my way home so fast that I had made it all the way back in mere minutes. I didn’t even bother looking at the newspaper because I already knew what had happened to Mike. Opening the door I ran to the garage we’re I had left Mike's head. It was still there, right where I had left it. I needed to figure out what the hell had happened. Honestly I couldn’t care less about some stupid poem book right now, I had much bigger problems. I sat and tried to think of every scenario on what could have happened. I thought for so long that my head began to hurt. After a while of nothing I couldn’t think of anything. nyway, Mike’s head had made its way into my house. I decided to try and get some rest but it was difficult, I couldn’t make my brain stop thinking for even one moment. But after a while, I was met with a familiar black void.

        I was back in the dream world of nothing but endless darkness. I looked around as usual but, oddly enough, I didn’t find anything. There was no light in the distance, there was no projector, this time it really was just a void of nothingness. Then as if on cue the black empty space had turned bright white, making a loud clicking sound in the process. In the distance lay a white wall with a black outline, some drawings on it. Seeing as it was the only thing for presumably miles I walked to it. Examining the wall it looked like the drawings were telling a story, but on closer inspection I realized what it was. The first drawing was of John being disposed of in his sleep. The second drawing was of Alisa's body being hidden in a dumpster. The last drawing was a drawing of Mike getting his head placed in a cabinet as a trophy to the killer. The only problem was that I was the one doing all of this in the drawings. I was the one responsible for all the disappearances. There was one difference between me and the killer though, my eyes in these drawings were pitch black, as if it were sucking out the light around them. Then, to my right, I saw something appear. It was me, I had appeared right in front of myself, or at least a person who looked like me. They were wearing what I was wearing, had a black facial expression, they looked exactly like me. I began to walk up to them confused out of my mind. They were just standing there staring off into the distance. Once I arrived I waved my hand in front of them but got no response. Then I tried tapping them on the shoulder but when I did they started falling backwards, but when their body should have hit the floor, instead it clipped right through it and continued falling until it was out of sight. I crouched down and put my hand to the floor we’re the other me had fallen, it was solid, I couldn’t go through it. Then from behind me I could see something glowing from the corner of my eye. I turned around and was met with a dark black door giving off a dim glow. I looked at the door and something about it felt like it was calling to me. I grabbed the handle, turned it, and opened the door. Behind the door was yet another room of nothing but white. I walked through the door and once I did, it began to fade away behind me. On the floor laid a mirror in the center of the room. I walked up to it and looked at myself. My eyes had turned black.