The Mirror In The Man

Chapter 1

There once lived a man whose name was uniquely irrelevant; Especially since there was no one around to use it. The man lived inside an infinitesimally small house that had walls of infinite dimensions, immeasurable even to the builder; The man.

Considerable boundaries confined the man, for the house had no windows, no doors, not a chimney nor a drain. A single opening could not be found.
Each day, the man walked along the walls, alternating, as not to search the same wall each time. Or so he believed. Or so he believed he believed. The only thing more uncertain to the man than the exact size of the room were his own thoughts.

Once, seeing a way out, the man turned away, doubting it’s sincerity. Perhaps fear stopped him from attempting to leave. Nevertheless, that was ages before the events of interest.

Chapter 2

As a child, the man contemplated death. On the day of his death, life as a child caught his attention, yet somewhere in between he had forgotten what it meant to be alive, in the middle, and that is how he became trapped.

It started with an obsession with reflections. The man did not battle vanity, but invisibility. He sought the unsure about. Was it black or white? Small or large? He knew only that it was missing. The man stared into many mirrors, many times, equally unsatisfied with each. Fear drove him to the edge of madness, but imagination stopped him from crashing, spectacularly.

On a fateful, unseasonably temperate night, the man found himself reflected upon two surfaces, but at once. Half of his personality shone on a display window of a shop. The other half, inside, captured by a mirror that sat atop a chest of drawers, gazed back.

Memorized by the spectacle, the man had been taken by euphoria. The event was unfathomable. It was religious, maybe. In that moment the man would allow himself to believe anything to be possible. And in the following, he did.
Chapter 3
What the man saw that day was left unsaid. It was, however, true and inspiring. Enough so, that the man bought the mirror and took it home, where he watched it for hours, only stopping when he noticed a peculiar discomfort. Not only was the man looking at himself, but the objects behind him.
The man began to detest the colors that surrounded him and the shapes that built the reflections made him uneasy. He felt his old possessions were unworthy of existing inside the world of the mirror. That is when he decided to move. But to where? Where does one go when they want to begin anew? How does one justify a metaphysical relocation? Such curiosities began to haunt the man, much like he would himself, later. A doubtful coincidence cherishing fearful embellishment, surely.
One night, as the man drifted into sleep, he began to dream. Months of restless sleep later, the dream came true. He awoke the first morning confused. Waking up in a new house can be disorienting, especially when it’s the silence that wakes you. Looking around, he had forgotten, for the slightest moment why there was no furniture, no art, not a cup nor a… Then he had trouble remembering what he was missing.
Concern started to kick in, and it all came back. Not the objects, the memories of leaving everything behind, for in the new house there existed only two things: The man and the mirror.
Chapter 4
The reflection provided by the mirror was dark and dull. So black, it was indefinitely indescribable. At times, the man’s gaze was broken. He would somehow see past himself. He would see a realm where hypnosis was only a trick. Memorization no longer existed.
This happened when the man was strong enough to close his eyes, but when he closed his eyes he entered a world in which he was no longer in control. Or so he thought. Or so he thinks he thought. Or so the thinking thoughts allowed him to think, but thoughts think abstractly. Ideas swallowed by fear can be an unslayble dragon. It is not a winged creature. It does not breathe fire. It is not even seen. It intimidates as a silhouette from the shadows. What started as a shadow grew into four dimensions.
These… Demons… Maybe? Whatever these creatures were, haunted the man and chased him far past conceptual limitations. How can it be possible to be lost when you already have not the slightest idea where you are in the first place? One cannot be double lost, and soon the man realized that.
He recognized, hesitantly, where he now found himself. The crossroads in the middle of nowhere. Decisions. Each path leading to the unfamiliar. However, a choice had to be made. The man had not made a choice in an unpredictable amount of time. He had forgotten about the freedom of options. No longer afraid of isolation, the man decided to decide on choosing the most important choice of his life. Escape. He had to escape.
Chapter 5
It was a matter of seconds of millennia between the creation of the plot and the quandary in which the man found himself. No tools. The man wondered how he could dig himself out with no shovel. Then again… Dig? Where would he dig? The house had no ground, no dirt. It was the man’s own self that created the new barrier of doubt and shame.
“You cannot leave. What would anyone think if you did?” The man, for he first time since whatever arbitrary date, decided not to listen to the voices that weren’t really there. Only his voice mattered, and that voiced longed to be free. The man’s eyes sought light. The man’s ears could hear the silence fading away.
The man was touched. The smell of fresh, by some standards at least, air nearly choked him as the stagnant breath fled his lungs. The cold air started warming the man and soon he was hot. Angry.
The man started to hate himself for allowing defeat, but immediately stopped. He looked around. The furniture and art and cups and… The man’s possessions were never gone. Confusion launched the man from the bed he found himself in and the sight in front of him halted any further movement.
The man in the mirror appeared as a phantasm, reminding the man, the real man, what had happened. What had happened? Nothing, really. Or everything. The man was no longer concerned by such minuscule ideas. He now knew there was more. It didn’t matter what or where, but he knew he had to find it.
The man no longer feared. He could finally see himself. With one last glance he understood upon turning he would take the first step toward what he truly wanted. And in moments, he did.