Beautiful Nightmare

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

The cold stone floor numbs my bare feet, and I shiver in my white sundress. Strange, I don’t remember owning such a dress. And why aren’t I wearing shoes? Where am I?

“Casey!” A great gust of wind screams my name as a hurricane of red leaves sends me spinning. I try to slap them away, but they stick to me wet, dripping. Not leaves, blood. This time the scream is my own. Red plasters my face, covers my eyes and seeps into my open mouth. I stumble and fall onto the cold floor now covered — in red leaves. I stand, brushing the leaves off the flowing white. Not a spot of blood. The mirror before me confirms it. There’s no blood anywhere. Mirror… Where did that come from?

“Casey!” It’s clearer now, not the wind, but a voice so familiar.

“Amy? Amy! Where are you?”

Banging echoes all around me as I spin, trying to find the direction her voice had come from. My reflection greets me at every turn. Now I’m surrounded by mirrors, twisting, shining, directing me on paths too numerous to count.

“Casey!”

Behind me! I spin, and for an instant I think I glimpse a small figure in the glass. Then it’s gone.

“Casey!” I dash down a pathway, chasing her voice. Left, right, forward back. Sometimes near, sometimes far, always accompanied by banging and the rustle of leaves. I run until my own blood begins to mingle with the leaves on the floor. I trip and lay still, sobbing on the cold stone.

“Casey?” I freeze and slowly look up. The maze is gone, a single mirror remains. And on the other side… “Amy!”

“Casey, where are you?” She bangs against the glass, trying to peer through it.

“I’m right here, sweetie. Right in front of you.”

“I can’t see you. Casey help me, I’m scared.”

I reach for her, but all I touch is cold glass. How can I reach her? If I break the mirror will it let her out? Or will she break, too? A dark figure materializes behind her and claws grip her shoulder. The face is all too familiar. It’s me, but my features are twisted into a wicked grin withered, sunken and my eyes are pitch black. “Give her back!”

“Oh, but my dear, you’re the one who gave her to me in the first place.” My face is gone and now I stare only at a grinning skull. Death.

“Give her BACK!” Before I know what I’m doing, my fist slams through the glass, shattering it into a mirrored cascade that falls to the floor shattering again, blood oozing from the broken edges. “No, Amy!” I scoop them up, futilely trying to put them back together. And I remember. The red light, the truck, Amy screaming, the blood. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please come back. AMY!”

This short was inspired by my favorite band, RED, and their song Darkest Part.
Check it out here.

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