Broken Windows and Broken Mirrors

The first chapter of Trapped--hope you guys like it!

Running. That's all I seem to know how to do, all I've been doing for a very long time. I've run farther than I've ever run before. Or at least in this world. I have a vague memory of another place, a place I really live in, but I don't remember it. Everything I know, everything I've learned, everything I remember, is from here. Maybe I have different memories in the other place. Or maybe there's no other place and I'm just trying to tell myself that there's someplace better. But I know nothing better. I only know here.

Running, my footsteps hit the cracked pavement with a patpatpatpat sound, and I watch as my breath comes out in deep white clouds, outlined by the blood red sky. Good. Not good because it's cold, but because I'm still breathing. But the way I feel, I don't think I can go much longer.

I look around me, at the building that were once grand, like palaces. I shiver, looking at the broken windows that were bashed in when it happened. Some of the buildings were untouched, some were marked with big, red X's, some were leveled. I can't help but feel a pang of guilt as I realize that the destruction was partially my fault. Not my doing, just my fault.

I am forced to stop, trying to catch my breath. How much longer do I have to go? I sigh, knowing I can't stop running. My only defense, my only offense. How can I not run? I have to get away.

Wiping beads of sweat from my forehead, I catch my reflection in one of the windows. I narrow my eyes at what I see. How is it that I got stuck with this? I'm normal-looking, average-looking, plain looking. For the Other Side, anyway. You probably wouldn't recognize me in a crowd here. So how is it that I, of all people, got stuck with this?

I shake my head. There's no use. I just have to keep going. I can't dwell on the past, even though there's not really a past to dwell on anymore.

The clouds used to be white. The buildings used to sparkle. Why is it that this had to happen to this place? It used to be so beautiful.

Suddenly, the temperature of the air around me drops drastically, meaning I could feel my fingers turning purple. It was freezing before, and it was negative something then.

“Why do you keep running?” a loud and old voice booms, scaring the wits out of me. “You have nowhere to run. You have nowhere to hide. This is my world now.”

I think of thousands of retorts I'd love to yell out right now, but I can't. He uses your words to get inside your mind. And I can't let that happen.

I start running again, this time faster. My body tells me it's too much, that I'll end up blacking out or something from exhaustion, but my mind shuts them up and out. I can't worry about that now.

“Don't you get it? I don't care that your subconscious can protect you"I will get to you. This place is dead. Your family is dead. Your friends are dead. And you too soon shall be dead.”

My rage bubbles up inside of me. “No!” I scream at the voice, only realizing how stupid that was a moment too late.

The place begins to shift colors, from red to black to white to blue and back to red again. I see a dozen faces, faces I've forced myself to forget. A tornado picks up around me, and I drop to the ground, hands covering my ears as the voice bellows a rumbling cackle. A splitting headache erupts in my head and I have to fight to stay conscious, to stay alive.

I let everything go, rage, hatred, loathing, and push it up towards the voice. “You won't win!” I say, my voice cracking as if I'm losing it. “I won't let you!”

Then everything stops. The tornado disappears, the pain in my head vanishes, and the voice is MIA.

“Zila.” A voice, kinder than the one talking before. “I thought I told you not to try to contact the Other Side.”

And then I'm pulled right out of there, the place spinning as I'm pulled right into another place, a safer one.

Mirrors. Everyone uses them. They're decorations, they're tools, they're weapons. They bring bad luck if you break them. Some gaze into them forever, some avoid them at all costs. Mostly because they show your reflection, you. And also because they remind you of who you are.

This mirror doesn't show my reflection. Instead, there's a face. A face I know well.

The Old Man. Well, that's what I call him. I don't know his real name, or even if he has a name.

The Old Man has a cheery face, which is outlined with worry today. His dark gray eyes stare intently out of the mirror, studying mine for something that would give him a clue as to why on Earth I'm still contacting the Other Side.

The truth is, I can't control it. I never could.

“I told you to be careful,” he decides.

“I'm trying.”

“Try harder.” The Old Man sighs. “The Other Side is too dangerous to be contacting right now.”

“I have to know what's coming,” I say, which is not completely true, but it's not completely untrue, either.

The Old Man can probably read my mind just by looking at the expression on my face. I put a brave one on, but I'm sure he can detect the lie in my eyes.

“So you can't control it,” he decides.

I look at the ground. “I'm trying. I told you. But I always seem to end up there.”

“You have to make a subconscious effort!”

“How?!” I ask. “I'm asleep! I can't control my mind!”

“You do when you're awake!”

“It's easier then,” I say.

The Old Man is silent. Then, after about a minute, he says, “Your subconscious keeps you safe there. But once you break the barrier of only being able to go there in your sleep, there will be no stopping him. You'll be completely on your own.”

“I doubt I'll be able to break it. I don't know how.”

“Good,” the Old Man says. He looks up at me. “I must go back,” he says. “I've spent too much time in the mirror.”

I nod. “Of course. Thank you for getting me out of there.”

“It is my duty.”

I hate it when they say that. It's their “duty”. Makes me feel like I don't have any real friends.

“Goodbye,” I say.

“Goodbye, Zila,” he says. His image blurs. “Good luck, Shadow.”

The Old Man vanishes, and a sense of being alone overwhelms me. I look up at the mirror.

Redish-brownish hair, bright cobalt blue eyes, outlined by an icy silver. Normal in the Other Side, weird-looking in the real world.

This is my reflection.

Reviews

[CreativeCookie]

OMK!!!!!!!! I LOVE it!!! Post more, I'm dieing to know what happens next! One thing though, scan your work for quotation marks and check that they are being used correctly.
Love,
CreativeCookie

[Violette]

Thanks for the advice--I think I fixed it, but I'm always going so fast when I'm writing I'm bound to have about fifty typos! I'm glad you liked it! Thanks for reading!