So, Happy Halloween:
THE MAN IN THE MIRROR
“She always found
herself in the dark. It wasn't a coincidence, it was mandatory. If the lights
were not turned off and the mirrors were exposed, the Man in the Mirror would
claim her for his own. She couldn't handle it, she wouldn't If ever she caught
a glance at him in a fragment of glass, she would know he had alliances near.
She knew he kept them near her home,” his voice was deep and melancholy.
“There was the
bakery owner on Roosevelt and 3rd; he always kept on the lavatory
light and left the door ajar, when not in use. She was once brave enough to
question his reasons for doing so. He simply looked at her and said, ‘The
customers need to know where the restroom is.’ She didn't believe him, not for
one second. That was October 1992. She hasn't been back since,” there was a
small whimper from the back of the room.
“She knew the Man
in the Mirror frequented her parent’s house. She had been devastated to
discover they were working for him as well. As much as she cared and loved her
parents, she never went to see them; they had to come to her. They had been the
ones, on numerous occasions, that had urged her to see someone; someone that
understood what was happening; someone she could talk to. She agreed that she
would like to have someone of whom she could share stories with, someone that
would know more about the Man in the Mirror,” the older gentleman continued;
all eyes fixed upon him.
“She had scheduled
the appointment herself; she had driven to the office building in which Doctor
Rooney worked. She had sat in the waiting room, and she had stood up when the
nice, young nurse had called her name. But she did not stay long. She would
never be back there again. Her one chance at having an accomplice on her side
was comrade to the Man in the Mirror,” his voice was growing pained.
“It didn’t take
much for her to realize that maybe; just maybe, she would be okay with the Man
in the Mirror. Maybe he could protect her from whatever other horrors were in
this world. She talked about it. We thought it was just a fantasy world,” he
nearly pleaded, “If she were with the Man in the Mirror; if she were on his
side, she could escape from these tortuous waters, filled with the savage sharks
of the modern world,” the priest, dressed in all black, finished, with a
difficult swallow.
“So today,” he
said, in a weaker tone, “we ask you to bow your heads and pray for Lily Gane,
who will forever be embedded in the marrow of the mirror and will forever find
herself in the dark.”
Love from Pullman,
The Blonde and the Bullshit
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