by David Kempf
“You’re getting angry. Men are so violent.”
“We can agree on that.”
“Yes.”
What was perhaps the most menacing and disturbing about these scenes was that they were beyond sexual. They were almost political in nature. Emptiness and regret, tragically, were nowhere to be found. He felt the violence building up inside of him. What he once thought was a delightful and sensuous girl was little more than a freak who needed to be put away. Christopher began to breathe slowly to try and calm himself. He listened to the rain. The sounds of the thunder and lightning had a very soothing effect on his temperament.
“Aren’t you going to hit me, you bastard?”
“No.”
“Don’t you hate me for my girl crushes?”
“No.”
“You do!”
“No. I’m sorry that your whole life and all your thoughts are obsessed with sexuality. That’s assuming that this is the real Sarah to begin with.”
“This is no dream.”
“We need to get you to a priest or a minister or something. You’re possessed. We’ve got to find some kind of clergymen!”
This made Sarah laugh very hard. Her voice didn’t even sound sinister as she heartily laughed. She sounded like the happy young girl he had met in class.
“Hush now. My time is up.”
“What?”
“Witness the birth of your darlings!”
“No. I want nothing more of this. Something’s wrong with you. I think one of us is demonically possessed.”
“Look!”
Christopher Wisdom took more than just a passing glance. He took a good look, as that thing that used to be Sarah asked him to do. Good look. There were ten mirrors directly in front of him. Then, from a distance, he spotted one more mirror at the end. Eleven mirrors. It appeared that the long hallway was almost at an end. The mirrors, five on each side, were the end of this tunnel. He wasn’t sure how much further he wanted to go. It resembled some kind of fun house but he was truly afraid that this might be the entrance to hell.
“Look!”
“My darlings will be born in the mirror?”
“Yes!”
The first mirror revealed his own reflection but there was a man standing next to him. He was wearing a Halloween skeleton mask. Christopher looked puzzlingly at Sarah.
“He kills people because no one can prove whether or not God exists.”
“He’s from my story. This is a character from my story. I’ve never seen anything like this. No one has read the story yet. Not even Wells.”
“There is so much more for you to see, Christopher.”
“I don’t wish to see anymore.”
“That’s a lie. This is all about what we wish for.”
Next Christopher saw a terrible, awful sight. Standing next to him was a beast, very tall, that gave the impression it was some kind of slave master with an evil purpose. And it was next to him.
“Please! No more!”
“Sorry. There is more. It’s your doing.”
“You mean that I brought this on myself?”
“Yes.”
“How did I do that?”
“You invoked them.”
“My stories brought this?”
He knew somehow she was right. The entire affair sounded clinically insane but it was true. Christopher believed in his stories almost as much as he hated real life. Still, she was beginning to show him scenes from stories that had yet to be written. He had written the story of the man wearing a skeleton mask. The monster in the mirror was a story that so far had only existed inside of his head.
“That one is interesting.”
“What?”
“See.”
A man in the mirror was smiling back at Christopher. He was once again standing right next to one of his own characters in the mirror’s reflection. The character was immoral; he had no scruples. He was someone who exploited the grieving process in order to meet his own selfish desires.
“He’s a liar. Unlike me, he can’t really speak to the dead!”
“No. I had envisioned him as a phony.” Christopher replied.
“A different kind of devil this one is,” Sarah said.
“Yes. His blood will help people.” Christopher jumped as he watched his own reflection. A tiny horned creature ran quickly by him in the mirror. He didn’t know why it was running, but he knew it could help grant a wish for one of his characters. Something beautiful would come from this hideous monster.
“This man feels like you do.”
Christopher watched in horror as he saw his reflection next to a man who was going completely insane.
“This man is mad!”
“No. Not yet.”
“He will be. Soon, not long at all now, Christopher.”
Christopher realized that the man had been so alone for so long that his mind had been playing terrible tricks on him. Things that don’t or shouldn’t exist were surrounding him. Like a man who constantly writes terrible things for a living.
“Look now.”
In this mirror, there was a lonely kid who was contemplating murder right next to him. The young man was completely delusional and hid his feelings of agonizing emotional pain within a game. That could have easily been Christopher, given the way he was ostracized when he was younger.
His love for tales of terror and his yearnings for pretentious intellectual learning couldn’t hide the truth. Christopher Wisdom was an outcast. He always had been with his family, and friends seemed not to stick around when life got difficult. The young man stuck in his imagination contained an awful lot of him.
“You’ve always hated the false achievers.”
“Yes. Hated them and hated the vain.”
“Yes.”
The next scene featured another demonic character. It wasn’t the kind who helped you break into the movie business or ran by too quickly for you to see. It was different. This creature apparently valued commercial property and prosperity. Sarah had spoken half the truth. Christopher really hated all achievers except for people like Wells. Now that he was convinced Wells was the devil, he despised him as well. If the man wasn’t connected to some type of evil, supernatural force then he should never have wasted his time writing a single novel. Why should he waste the time, writing? Henry David Wells would be the greatest magician in the history of the world if none of this was real.
“Let’s talk real magic,” Sarah said.
“What now?”
“Admit it, my love. Your subconscious and imagination are revealing things about you. Things that you need to see right now.”
“Ugly things I don’t want to see,” Christopher insisted.
“No. They are beautiful things that need to be revealed!” Sarah smiled.
“No. They are hideous, selfish fantasies that should be repressed,” Christopher said, shaking his head.
“They are your wishes. Your darlings. Love them!”
Christopher wasn’t quite sure if these hideous thoughts and images were truly his own. They did exist in part by design. He created these dark fictional characters in his mind. That much was undeniable. What he didn’t like was her use of the word ‘invoke,’ which suggested he was some kind of warlock or dark wizard. He wasn’t now, nor had he ever been, someone who worshipped any kind of evil. Truth be told, he was actually more of an agnostic than someone who was traditionally religious or who believed in a spirit world. Even after all Sarah had shown him, part of him did not believe what he was seeing with his own eyes.
“Seeing is not believing, Christopher?” she asked.
“No,” he said firmly.
“Why?”
“I suppose because I could be hallucinating, or perhaps this is just a dream. Granted, it would be the most intensely real nightmare of my life. That still doesn’t make any of this stuff real. Yes, it’s a dream,” Christopher decided.
“Dig deeper….”
“No.”
“
Look. See,” Sarah pushed.
Christopher’s mind was not through playing tricks on him, if that was the case. He saw more of his darlings. This time, death was the center of attention. A man who wanted to die was surrounded by danger. Christopher saw him in the mirror. The man was terminally ill and suffering greatly. Why would Christopher make him a protagonist? He would often wonder about his own mind. Why the obsession with morbid things? How did a man raised by normal parents become so curious about death? There was no answer. It was just who he was. It was merely him coming through in one of his anguished characters. Yes, sometimes Christopher hated real life. It was mundane and dull. People were petty, manipulative and cruel. He wanted to live a better life, something with depth.
“You can have that life. It’s almost yours,” said Sarah.
“What?”
“It’s almost here.”
“Can you read my mind?” Christopher asked in amazement.
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe this.”
“You will soon enough. Soon enough you will, Christopher.”
“What else do you have to show me?”
“You mean what else you have to show us.”
It was true. Undeniably true. The mirrors all reflected him. They were a reflection of his subconscious screaming to come out and finally be free. The intense war between what he thought inside his head and what others heard was almost over now. His sense of decency and his personal insecurities had won many battles. But, it was too late. Christopher’s subconscious was going to win the war! Conformity and self doubt would have to go and raise the white flag soon. He continued towards the end of the hall of mirrors with Sarah as his guide.
“I knew you thought the dead could talk,” Sarah said.
“No. I’m still a skeptic. Once you’re dead, you’re always dead, for all eternity.”
“Do you really still believe that?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Christopher.
“I know someone who begs to differ,” smirked Sarah.
“You, I presume,” he stated simply.
“You do.”
Christopher watched scenes of a graveyard, not unlike the tombstones marked outside the funeral home. The graves seemed to be whispering in his ears that death was not the end, but only the beginning of an awful, terrible journey into darkness.
“You see?” said the evil thing that used to be Sarah Nolan. “This is the start of a long and powerful relationship. The masters will call on you soon.”
“Who are they?” asked Christopher.
“It’s not my place to reveal them to you.”
The whispers were driving Christopher mad. They kept telling him things he didn’t want to hear. Voices inside his head were making him aware of what a lonely, pathetic daydreamer he had always been. Then the voices offered him a so-called hope for his tragic life. The opportunity would soon come for him to be a servant.
“You mean a slave?” he screamed.
“Yes,” Sarah said. “What an incredible honor the masters will offer you.”
“What if I refuse to serve them?”
“You know what will happen, Christopher Wisdom. I don’t need to speak it out loud.”
“I know. The masters will kill me.”
“You wish!”” she retorted.
“What?” he asked.
“It will be a fate much worse than death, I promise.”
“Will I beg to die?”
The thing laughed at Christopher and then pointed the way to the end of this hall of mirrors. What was now reflected in the mirrors was very familiar to him. It was his subconscious mind. His dreams and nightmares were being shown like some bizarre midnight horror movie. He was fascinated. Christopher never realized how spectacular and provocative his own mind really was. He was the star of his own show and it was a damn good one. Others had never seen or realized his potential because they were not as special as him. Christopher felt his sense of confidence growing. It was almost becoming arrogance, a feeling of superiority.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Is this the real me?” he asked.
“This is Christopher Wisdom.”
“Yes,” he agreed, a smile spreading across his face.
“Men are fools. The people you know, all fools.”
“They’re jealous of me.”
“Yes, they are!”
“They’re naturally envious of my talents.”
“You are better, much better than they are!”
“They’re not worthy to untie my sandals,” he said. Then he laughed.
“Yes. Very good, you’re finding out who you really are.”
“I don’t want to be ordinary, I never was. I was never meant to be!” Christopher exclaimed.
“Is it getting cold in here?” asked Sarah.
Only two more mirrors to see, he thought. Then he realized that the evil Sarah was indeed correct. It was getting much colder in the room. He was almost at the end now. He looked at the second to last mirror and saw an ice storm.
“See!” Sarah yelled.
There was something under the ice. It was some sort of creature; it was trying to break free from the ice. It wanted out. It wanted to walk among men and only one man could set it free. The only man who could do that was him, the one who’d created it and given it life in his mind. Only Christopher could set it free.
“Set your monster free.”
“I’m not sure if I should do that.”
“Yes, yes you are. You’ve come too far now. There is no going back now.”
“You’re right, Sarah. I have to let it go now. It’s been frozen and suffering. The thing has been in too much pain for far too long.”
“End its suffering, Christopher. Only you can.”
“I need to use my power. Not for good, not for evil. I need to use it for me.”
“Precisely correct, Christopher!”
All he had to do was think about setting the monster free. Its awful presence could not be fully seen through the snow storm. He saw it come out of the ice and walk away. That was the second to last mirror. Christopher had one more reflection to look at before this odd journey would end.
“It’s free. So are you, almost.”
“What’s left, Sarah?”
“One more mirror,” she said.
“I’m looking at it right now,” he said.
“You didn’t set the monster loose,” she said.
“I know. What I set loose upon the world was me. I’m the monster. He was born in my mind but I’m the real threat.”
“Yes.”
The final reflection was devastating to Christopher Wisdom. A little girl who had made contact with something she was not supposed to ever have was trying to bargain with things that were beyond human comprehension. The lesson here was not to mess with the unknown. He would never learn that lesson. Christopher now was addicted to the unknown.
“We’re almost done here, my friend.”
Christopher was being truly seduced. She had given his body a rapturously erotic experience. Now his ego was becoming a force with which to be reckoned. He did not know what these creatures were who wanted him. Even after speaking to Wells about them and reading his book, he did not know. Sarah was completely possessed by them and he still had no clue what he was dealing with.
These things were bringing out his love for his own mind and imagination. These creatures obviously wanted him for his talent. They were preying upon him for his secret desire to create. He knew one thing for sure. They were winning. The creatures were seducing a lonely, insecure, intellectual kid. Even while he thought about these things, he realized he was changing. He was a lonely, insecure kid. He was! Now he felt an almost supernatural confidence. Christopher Wisdom was way above others now. All the idiots in his family, the stupid professors, and the dumb townspeople where he grew up were not in his league anymore.
“Welcome to the darkness, Christopher….”
“What now?”
he asked.
The light from the candles blew out suddenly. Pitch black. He couldn’t see a thing. He began to slowly walk forward.
“The first lesson is over now. Goodbye.”
Sarah pushed Christopher into the darkness. He fell backwards. The painful fall on the slippery, wet ground made him close his eyes. Then he opened them. He was in the graveyard again. The same place where he had made love to this demon or whatever the hell she was. Now he was lost again. He couldn’t decide whether to walk back to his car and drive towards the Wells house or not. Something was going on but he wasn’t in shock. He had, technically, always been an agnostic skeptic and not a full blown atheist. Atheism mirrored the arrogant certainty of religious believers. Christopher had no desire to reflect them. Now he was reflecting the dreams and nightmares of the characters he was bringing to life.
“I do not wish to do this,” said a distant voice.
“You must. We command it,” answered back something that wasn’t human.
Christopher was still lost but he began to walk towards the voice he heard. It wasn’t really close. He felt like he shouldn’t even have heard it. Were his senses growing in power now? He didn’t know. One thing was for sure. Christopher had never seen so well in the dark before. He felt like some kind of cat, or like he was nocturnal. Was he becoming some sort of vampire like the college student in his novel? Questions like this only plagued people who were losing their minds. The oddest thing was that he was sane and he knew it. People who are crazy never think of themselves as such. Instead, they believe that they are truly Jesus or Napoleon or an alien from outer space. This was not the case. No. He was as mentally healthy as he had ever been in his life. Perhaps he was at his peak of health now that his confidence and senses were being sharpened by these creatures. Who were the masters? Could these things really be like the awful, powerful, and devious creatures of Wells’ book? He still didn’t know. Again, he heard the v
“You must. We command it,” said the creatures in unison.
It was as though they were of one consciousness. What the hell were these things? They couldn’t really be the things from Wells’ book. Could they? My God, he thought to himself. If these things really exist, then the human race is in serious trouble. Then another terrible thought. What in God’s name would they want with some insignificant insect like me?
