The Monster in the Mirror

“No matter how far you run away, how much you hide, how much you try to escape- your shadow will always follow you.” whispered Mother Malorie.

…

Nicasia didn’t remember the last time she looked in a mirror.

She also had a tendency to manipulate her shadow.

Nicasia did not recognise the creature which stared back at her through the glass; it blurred into grotesque forms, with each one being more horrifying than the previous one. One form had fat rolls that flapped around her waist - mocking her. Taunting her, they seemed to grow bigger and bigger until claws pierced through the skin, digging hard. She gasped, a silent bomb ticked against her throat.

The monster was hurting her.

Thick, metallic liquid fell from her sides like mud on a tomb. She froze, looking down. It pooled on the ground, around her feet. An iron tang clawed up her nose. Nicasia knew she had to look up -her heart was begging to be freed from its cage. What would be there when she did?

This time, it didn’t so much have a torso, only bones that threatened to tear the translucent parchment that was draped over it. Culminating claws hung from spindly arms that were like dried twigs. It was too skinny now, too grotesque. Yet, she couldn’t look away.

Instead she came closer, hypnotized.

The monster mirrored her, with the same obsession.

Gently, Nicasia’s nose pressed against the creatures- it was colder than expected.

Under its bloodshot eyes, two abyssal, murky voids burned into its flesh. Like spilled ink, it had stained.

Twisted, curled claws bored into the ink moving in harmony. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Somehow, Nicasia could feel every single touch; layers of skin being ripped, the debris of grime which mourned under the claws, which had turned into nails, the solid hardness of bone under fat but no matter how hard it wiped- the ink will never come off.

Like a tide pool- uninviting and murky- dark pools of repulsive brown water swirled around its mouth. It was a shade darker than the rest of the flesh. The dark, brown skin spoke too loudly, screamed with such volume that it shattered my eardrums.

Constellations scattered across its sunken face, scars that were trenches of battles it lost years ago and pores that were craters. The monster’s mask was too tired, too dropped, too uneven. Nicasia knew that monsters were born to be imperfect, but this one she had grown to abhor with time.

“You’re disgusting.” She whispered.

Dry, cracked lips quivered and water gathered in the corners of its eyes. Nicasia sniffed. The monster copied.

Slowly, a gaping hole opened in her chest. The monster didn’t ask for the mask it was given. It much preferred the one it wore when it was a child.

However, the mask you wore as a child will not fit you as an adult.

And no matter how much you hide, your shadow will always follow you.