December 17, 2021
Word: Fear
Spectrophobia is the fear of mirrors and/or the fear of what may be reflected in them. It is a type of anxiety disorder to individuals who experienced a traumatic event involving something that was reflected upon. Alex, an adult who once had the condition, now lives a carefree life by gradually being exposed to mirrors.
During a stroll on a scorching afternoon, Alex darted around the countless reflections of the buildings around him. He grinned at himself as he effortlessly walked through his past fears. Glancing at the vehicles passing by him, he stared at the blurry reflection of himself. His eyes widened. A dark aura consumed him and an extravagant blade impaled through his chest.
He looked down. Nothing. Staring back at his reflection. Nothing. He let out a sigh of relief whispering, "Don't let the past overcome you." He continued his adventure towards a skyscraper where a security guard wearing a pair of sunglasses awaits his arrival.
Nodding, "Good morning, sir," greeted the security guard.
Alex nodded, acknowledging his greeting. Turning to enter the building, his hair stood up. He looked at the guard, gulping his own saliva. A pair of red glowing eyes peered into his soul. It was a reflection from the sunglasses. A chill went down his spine.
He dashed through the entrance as his stomach churned from a gut wrenching feeling. Widening his strides, he sprinted towards the restroom. Green liquid came rushing through his throat. Alex struggled for air while turning the tap water to rinse off the vomit. Raising his head instinctively, his body trembled from fear
Before him, was a bloodstained reflection of himself. A blade stabbed through his chest, a looming aura of darkness, and red eyes glowing from its sockets. Alex screamed, backing out from the mirror. He was speechless, bewildered when the reflection did not move.
Alex from the otherside reached for the hilt, pulling the blade out from his chest, revealing an empty sternum. Raising the broadsword with a single hand, he opened his mouth. "You cannot run away from your past." Alex fell on his knees and a stench filled the air as liquid seeped through his denim pants.
"Accept it," the bloodstained Alex said, slashing the blade through the original Alex.
Everything went dark. However, a hysterical shriek recovered the senses of Alex. He struggled to regain his vision, growling from uneasiness. He opened his eyelids to confirm his anxiousness. It was bloodstained Alex.
Glancing at the glass beside him, a figure reflected back at him. It was Alex, soaked from blood, consumed by darkness, a gaping sternum, a broadsword on his left hand, and a frightened expression.. Looking down was a handgun on his left hand. Before him, a trail of blood led to a body, lying down with hole on his head.
Darting around the room, an empty entranceway was marked in blood. A woman trapped with a rampaging murderer, agressively banged the glass door. She glanced back and forth from the outside and Alex. Their eyes met.
"Help! Somebody help me!" the woman screamed.
Alex moved towards the woman, carefully making his way with short strides.. The door shattered, blessing the woman with ecstasy. However, delight was fleeting. Alex quickly drew his gun and shot her in the head, denying her escape.
Walking over to the freshly killed prey, he noticed the fragment of his reflection from the shattered glass. It was Alex, gagging from the scene he had witnessed.
"This is what you are meant to be, Alex," the bloodstained Alex said, crushing the glass with his leather shoes.