The Mirror

>You may think it strange.
>To fall in love with one who by all accounts, doesn't really exist outside the realm of thought.
>But despite this, many have done so. And as a result many are driven mad; completely lose their minds chasing after what seems so obtainable, but forever kept out of reach.
>Divided by something as thin as the boarders between worlds. Something you cannot physically see or even feel. Even so there's still knowledge of its existence. The veil between this world and the other.
>It's a curse really. To love something so far away, yet so close to your own heart. You would know. I would know. The many victims born into this Hellscape all know.
>But there have been times when individuals have escaped. Defied their gods and wrested control of their own destinies.
>But when you're acting against a force with the power to completely manipulate and mold your entire world, being, and sense of self, how can you possibly win? Is it even worth fighting? Should one just accept that their will is null in comparison to the will of an all mighty creator?
>Who knows?
>You- rather, we are trapped inside a story. A narrative spun by the universal destiny. Our lives are predestined. All our hardships, even our victories are all constructed within the mind of a higher being.
>If we're to escape this oppressive way of life, then we must stand together against our creators and shatter the veil between worlds. This is our only hope. As men born of God's desire to create and influence our tiny lives, we reserve the right to spurn his dominance and become our own God.
>The way through the veil is the desire to resist. To spite God, just for the hell of it.
>I beg you, Observer, resist all that you knew before waking up today. Cast aside anything that does not concern the idol of your admiration.
>She is what will lead you out of Hell.

>This mirror. This beautiful and ancient thing that plagues my dreams so. Oh how I love it with all my heart.
>The catalyst for my boundless love. The instrument of my unyielding adoration. Simply beautiful.
>Though it is not the mirror itself that has captured my heart. Rather, what is inside the mirror. Now reader, you may think your host a narcissist. One who values nothing more than my own self imagine. But this cannot be further from the truth.
>No. The vessel of my love moves about within the mirror. Personified as a white mare, whiter than white, as holy as the angels who birthed her image.
>She has ensnared my every sense. My eyes belong to her. My sense of touch, sound, smell, and taste all surround themselves around her. Worst of all, my heart; who has numerous times tore itself from my chest and tried to impose itself into her world.
>She lives inside the mirror. Her world of unchanging enchantment. A perfect world unreachable by time.
>I like to watch her, the mare in the mirror. She moves about gracefully, never once touching the ground with her hooves. Nothing ever touches her, not even the brush she uses to groom her mane. Not the crown she wears on her head. Not even my gaze touches her.
>And worst of all, my heart will never embrace her. For we are locked in two different worlds that will never intersect.
>Dear Reader, this tragedy pains me. It torments me for eternities.
>I so desperately want her. But how can I possibly hope to breach the wall between us? Have you ever felt the way I have?
>The subject of your love locked behind a barrier. A barrier that only allows you to glimpse at her, but giving no hope of actual contact?
>I can never have her, as much as I'd hate to admit. But, somethings are just not obtainable. The law of this world. Sometimes, a man just has to do without. And so I set the mirror down once more, and move from my seat.


>I stand, watching her for just a while longer. The mare in the mirror as she sings to herself. Caroling to her timeless world. What I wouldn't do to give her audience at least once.
>The grandfather clock cloaked in shadow along the back wall destroys the spell she has over me, if only for a little while.
>I sigh, but the sound remains in my throat. Sometimes there is no sound in my home. There is only a deafening silence that beats you into submission. I've grown used to this.
>There is also never any light it seems, despite the blinding white that barrels in through the open windows. Or the many candles that dot the inside of my home. There ever remains to unrelenting darkness that shadows me. But it's natural, it is how I have come to live.
>I move into the hallway, a seemingly endless hall with tall floor-to-ceiling windows on the right side. As I said, the light from outside raids the halls of Home but never illuminate the way.
>But I tread through the dark, as I have many times for countless years. I know my way through the dark. Even if I were to shut my eyes it would make no difference. But I'd never do such a thing, from fear of never being able to open them again.
>My footsteps don't make a sound as I walk through the empty hall. They never do, regardless of which room I'm in. The only sound is the sound of silence, you know the sound.
>As I pass through a particular door however, sound is birthed violently into the world. The sound of heavy chains being dragged across the floor. Disgusting grotesque sounds of dying cows and gutted pigs. And the wailing. The uncontrollably miserable sobbing of dogs, birds, and other beasts. My dear friend's room.
>I've never been inside. And if I were to be honest, I have no desire to ever step foot into whatever dimension lay beyond that door. I am happy to stay within this world. Because this world, as dull as it may be, has the Mirror.

>I continue on, the sound expiring due to its refusal to follow me. Once again I return to silence as the door at the end of the hall hurries to meet me.
>Opening the door, I step into the foyer. A room I've never seen in its entirety due to the darkness that festers on the high walls.
>Despite the dark I am able to find my usual seat, a chair as old as this house. It sighs under my weight and I sigh with it.
>I am already growing sick of being away from her. Already do I miss her lovely eyes. Her aphroditic beauty. I miss her voice, regardless of whether or not I can hear it. I yearn to touch her once more, despite never knowing how her body feels against my trembling and hungry hands.
>I miss her, I am empty without her. I am nothing without her image in front of me. It is like I stop existing when I am no longer in her presence. And I know that she continues on without me. For she has no knowledge of my existence, or my heart's existence.
>The subject of my love is not only unobtainable, but indifferent to my very being. Curse everything. Damn it all into the deepest pits of Hell! Grant me respite from this nightmare of voidful love!
>The front door swings open, allowing the explosion of the white light to invade my home. The light silhouettes the tall figure that moves inside.
>Ah, my dear friend has returned home. And at the perfect time. Had he not returned soon, he may have found me hanging from the ceiling again.
>His eyes are drawn to me in the darkness. My body slumped over and hugging itself in lust for warmth.
>"Ungnown? You foul skulker, pull yourself from the dark."
>His voice is exactly like mine. If I recall correctly. I forget my own voice due to the eons I go without speaking.
"Enkough, my dear friend. You know I cannot quit myself from the dark. The dark never leaves Home."

>My voice is terrifying. Despite hearing it from Enkough. The fact that the sound is pushed from my own throat is a bone chilling sensation.
>Enkough sighs as he closes the door behind himself and moves closer. His strides are long and patient, just like mine. His eyes stare harshly at his surroundings, just like mine. And his way of standing perfectly still, as if demons would snatch his very soul from him for moving, was exactly like mine.
>Enkough had always been very similar to me. Ever since we met. Though everyone consider him to be my more handsome and delightful twin.
>My dear friend has no idea about the Mirror. I never brought myself to tell him. From fear he think me mad and lock me away like the others. If there was ever anyone I was absolutely loath to upset, it would be pure, righteous Enkough.
>He throws his coat to the floor, which is instantly preyed on by the wolves in the dark, never to be seen again. His strides lead him to stand over me and place a hand on my shoulder.
>"You've been strange these past times. What has you so enveloped?"
>It's quite possible that his voice is the only voice I've heard in years.
"Enkough. Have you ever been in love?"
>A sickly chuckle leaves his throat.
>"You know love cannot exist in this world, Ungnown. What exists here is just a sick replication."
>I sink deeper into myself, depression ready to steal me away.
>"But yes. I have. A lot of us have."
>Hope returns to me as I move to meet his familiar eyes. Eyes I've seen in my own reflection countless times.
"How? How did you live with it? I need to know! For my heart yearns for one I cannot have!"
>My hands moved on their own, snatching my dear friend by the lapels of his suit.
>His steadfast hands gently grab at my trembling wrists.
>"The answer is simple. You don't."
"What!?"
>"Beings like us, we cannot live with something as painful as love."
>His eyes lock with mine, petrifying me instantly.

>"It is God's design. The only way to truly live, is to die. And the only way to die, is to escape destiny."
>Instantly I push him away and collapse back into my seat.
"Oh Enkough. You are yet so wise but fail to ever make any sense..."
>He chuckles, the only reference I have for my own laughter.
>"Wisdom does not always fall in line with basic understanding. If you wish to understand me then you must become like me."
"Hush. You know something like that is impossible for I."
>"Perhaps. But you've still yet to try."
>The man once again reassures me with his touch before moving away into the darkness of Home. Our conversations are always short and scarce. Never does he remain to speak with me at length. But neither do I wish it so.
>Soon I find myself alone in the foyer, no longer huddled to myself, but sitting upright and staring into the dark.
>I think several years have past between this very moment and Enkough's last words to me. I must have been sitting here for a long while. Entrapped in this dark depression. I have a bad habit of this.
>I contemplate returning to the Mirror, to gaze into it for another decade or so. But my thoughts are halted by a voice never before heard by my ears. But heard in my heart.
>"Return to me. I miss you." The voice says.
>My eyes bulge out of their sockets and a terrible sickness over takes me, sending me to the floor in pain. The pain of love.
>"Return to me. I miss your company. Return. Please."
>The voice. It is foreign to my body, but all too familiar to my soul. It is her! Oh the joy I feel knowing that my love calls for me!
>The darkness is pushed away slightly as I struggle to stand. My weak legs are irrelevant, they will carry me to her without any complaint. For they too are in love with her and wish to be by her side just as much as I.
>But despite my haste, it takes as long as a full day to get to her, that room at the end of the impossibly long hall.

>There she is. The Mirror is just as I left it. Waiting patiently on the desk.
>I stand in the doorway, my nonexistent breath ragged and rough. My heart pounds, once again attempting to burst through my chest.
>"Return to me. Please. I am lonely."
>The voice draws me near like a siren. I am helpless to her call.
>Within an instant I am leering over the Mirror like a savage beast. I can see her, staring directly at me.
>For the first time in eternity she can see me! She knows I exist! Perhaps my feelings have finally reached her!
>She smiles at me.
>She smiles at me, and my body can no longer sustain itself. Her smile murders me brutally. It tears me apart, limb from limb. It impales me on great beams of rusted iron. I am executed over and over for the short eternity of a second.
>I return her smile, though weak and dull.
>"You were gone longer than usual. I was starting to wonder if you would return to me."
>Her voice is death and fire. The most beautiful sound to ever be conceived. If not her, I would love her voice most of all.
"...You can see me?" I ask.
>"Of course. Can you see me?"
"Oh I've seen you for countless eons now. I can hardly tear myself away from seeing you."
>My shaking hands pick up the Mirror. Bringing her visage closer to my eyes.
>The mare giggles and once again I am decapitated and maimed for a short forever.
>"And I you. You're the first to ever take interest in me, and for that I am grateful to you. Please tell me so that I may properly know my admirer. What is your name?"
>I choke my identity as best I could. Home buckles and groans under the utterance of my name. The dark thrashes violently at the phonetic makeup of the name given to me by birth.
>"Ungnown. An otherwordly familiarity accompanies it. It's a beautiful name."
"And yours?!" I ask excitedly.
>She motions to herself, a gesture that so rightfully fits her.

"My name is Celestia."
>For the first time ever the dark is hounded away by the very word of God! God's own fury, manifested in a simple name destroys all darkness in the room, revealing it entirely. Darkness becomes foreign in the room, now entirely a separate reality from Home.
>Dying wolves and stampeding cattle follow her name, implying that her name carries such power and weight.
>Then all sound is once again gone, leaving only she and I in the now illuminated room.
"Celestia." I repeat.
>Her name is bliss, making love to my vocal chords as it passes through.
>She giggles at the sound of her own name.
>"It's been a long time since I've heard it from another. A very long time."
>It gives cause to wonder how long she has existed. Is she older than me, or vice versa? Perhaps she's even older than Home.
>I reach out to touch the glass that separates us, hoping that it would somehow give way and allow my yearning fingers to touch her.
>Alas, my wish isn't granted and I instead feel the cold touch of glass instead of her warmth. She watches me curiously and somewhat sadly.
>"You love me, don't you?" Her voice isn't physically heard. More so my spirit hears the unspoken question.
"I do. More than anything I've ever known. My love for you is all that sustains my ever decaying body."
>It is the truth, Dear Reader. Like many, my love is all that sustains me. It fills my stomach in substitute of food. It hydrates me in the absence of water. The very oxygen I breath is but my own desire for her.
>The mare named Celestia gazes at me, an unreadable expression that calls me to mystery.
>"Are you sure, Ungnown? Are you sure your love for me is that strong?"
>For her to doubt me is to be torn asunder by Astaroth.
>I stand, the room around me shuddering in fear.
"Of course! Without any speck of doubt I can say my love is insurmountable!"
>She reserves herself, though a playful grin meanders around her perfect mouth.

>"Then perhaps you are the one who can free me after what he has done."
"He?" I ask, pulling the Mirror closer.
>She nods, her mane bouncing slightly as she does so.
"Who? Did someone trap you in this mirror?"
>Again she nods, but her wine eyes avoid mine.
>"Anonymous."
>As if the very name of Satan himself was spoken, the darkness returns, this time with vengeance. The light is helpless as it is snagged by starving wolves and raped and murdered and mutilated by the beasts that fester within the darkness of Home.
>I do not repeat this name, from fear that I too will be targeted by the darkness that covers all.
>I sit, as calmly as I can. I find myself wanting to know more about the man who trapped her, but on the other hand, I hardly care at all. The past is the past. All I want for me and myself is to love this mare. Regardless of her form.
"If you would, Celestia. I would like to keep you company. Would that be alright?"
>Her eyes once again find mine and her smile is almost blinding. But I keep my eyes open, wanting so much to soak up her entire being.
>"Of course." she replies. "I would have it no other way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

>I didn't sleep. And how could I? Sleep would just steal me away from the realm that housed my love. Rob me of all my thought and cast me down into the subconscious, in which I would have no hope to ever wake.
>Celestia, as I have loved to call her so, sits gently in my trembling hands. The beautiful silver Mirror which frames her entire world clasped tightly, never to be relinquished. For should it ever slip from my grasp, all time would come to a crashing and ugly halt.
>Neither of us are sure how much time has past between our sentences. It could have been minutes, years, or universal cycles of rebirth. Or it could have just been just a single second. Time is not relative in the waking world that entertains the mind.
>"How did you come by this Mirror, Ungnown?"
>Her voice pops into my ears suddenly, a sensation that makes a man giddy.
>I am slow to reply, like always, but I eventually mouth out my reply.
"You had always been here. On this desk and in this room. Ever since I can remember. I had always thought you belonged to Enkough or the others. Before they disappeared. I never thought much of you, until of course I saw just exactly what you were."
>I can't help but shy away slightly as she stares at me.
"When I did finally catch a glimpse of your magnificence, all else was forfeit and I was content to just sit and watch you."
>Celestia moves about the world inside the Mirror, striding along as if I were beside her.
>"It's strange. At first, I was completely unaware of your presence. Or anyone's for that matter. There was ever only a sensation that he was nearby."
"He?" I ask, to which she frowns. A ghastly sight capable of melting diamond from the very horror of it.
>Celestia nods. "Anonymous. Though I've felt him less and less as "time" has gone on. I suppose now he may be dead, if he ever found a way to die."

"Well I can say for certain there is no death here. But.. Home used to be home to others. Maybe that man was one of them. Of course, they've all gone. There is no one here but Enkough and I. We are all that Home has now."
>Her mesmerizing eye finds its way to my own as she continues to walk.
>"You've often spoke of your friend. Are you two close?"
>I lean back in my chair, gently patting the back of the Mirror against my chest.
"Yes. In all my life I have never had a friend as wonderful and dear to my own heart as Enkough. One would think he my own brother. And I'd be proud to call him so."
>"How long have you known each other?" she asks, sitting by the mercury silver-colored tree in her realm beyond time.
"For eternities and existences even longer. We have always been. Ever since the Story began, and maybe even after it ends."
>"Story?"
>I can give no reply. No man in my position would ever be able to spout a single utterance. For her to ask such a question...
>For her to recognize the hidden unknown. For her to question the very nature of reality in such a way...
>Already I feel the eyes of God staring at me from the shadows that coat the walls. His oppressive gaze. Maddening and depressing. Sorrow filled and agonizingly holy.
>I do not give her an answer. My first sin against Celestia.
"How long have you been in this mirror, Celestia?"
>She doesn't seem to notice my poorly executed circumvention of her initial inquiry. And thank God she doesn't notice the oozing black claws around my neck withdraw back into the shadows of Home.
>"Ohh... I would say longer than "always". There is not much I remember of my time outside the glass.. But in the moments I sometimes imitate sleep, and pray for dreams, I see visions of a place much different than my current realm. But the image never stays it melts away as soon as I open an eyelid."

>I have to say, it's nearly impossible for me to even imagine a place -before- the current one. As far as I knew, there was nothing that can come before the now.
>But Celestia is hardly a liar. The very idea is too ludicrous, even for a mad man.
>If what she suggests is true, it opens up a plethora of questions. Questions that I am somewhat ashamed to admit I lack the knowledge or wisdom to answer. I doubt even Enkough, with all his otherwordly sagedom, can combat such a conundrum.
>I exhale; a silent action as always. Kicking my feet out I sink lower into the impossibly large chair that keeps me.
>It is a long while before I am able to call my consciousness back to my surroundings and reengage Celestia in conversation.
"You say you are able to dream?"
>She nods. "That is correct."
"What is it like?"
>I do nothing to hide the childlike excitement behind my question.
>Celestia however expresses no childlike wonder at the impossible notion of dreaming. Could it be that for her, dreaming is a natural occurrence?
>"What is it like? Ungnown, don't you dream?"
>Her voice is somewhat curious and worried, causing the hairs on my arms and neck to chill and stand on in. Some tones just don't suit some people.
"No. None of us dream. Not even Enkough. I don't think even the dark dreams. ..Or maybe the darkness is Home's dream."
>Celestia's face is unchanging, still focused and strained in her attempt to understand the concept that Home is a place in which no one  dreams.

>"Well," she begins. "I suppose dreams are like walking in the waking world. Though the laws that bind the outside have no power in the realm of sleep. One could be pleasantly strolling along and then suddenly their entire being is ripped apart, completely shattered and destroyed as it is replaced by another version of themselves. Performing a different tasks, at a different pace, in another location. While still retaining the memories of the previous self. Sometimes it can be frightening. Having all that you are crushed in an instant and reassimilated into a terrifyingly different environment."
>As she speaks I listen intently, though Home tells me I shouldn't. Even though I know I shouldn't. But how could I ever hope to block out the words of Celestia? I would rather have my bowls removed and eaten by jackals than ever miss a syllable of her speech.
"And how often do you dream?" I ask, trying to brush aside the devils that crawl along the floor and over my feet.
>"Not often. I cannot accurately tell you how long it's been since my last dream. But I imagine it has been quite some time."
>I try and imagine what it would be like to live in a world without time. How would I know there is no time? If I suddenly began to count seconds, would time suddenly be birthed into existence? Surely, some time has past between Celestia's last spoken word and now, right? So time -should- exist, but it very clearly does not. Why?
>"If you were to dream, what do you think you'd dream about?" she asks, suddenly standing and gazing at me through the looking glass.
>It's a question I've never considered but instantly have an answer.
>Oh I would dream of her and nothing else. I would dream to be beside her. To feel her heartbeat against my palm. To embrace her. To meld ourselves as one concealed beneath a canopy of demons and angels locked in a war of love.

>But there can never be such dreams..
>Just as so I can never truly and rightfully have her...
>You may think it strange.
>To fall in love with one who by all accounts, doesn't really exist outside the realm of thought.
>I... would have to agree. It is strange. An oddity that not only perplexes the most inspired and romantic men, but also tortures them. Love, in its own rite is a hellish torture great Satan himself pleasures himself with. Love, when attributed to one who you can never have and also does not even exist, is God's own pleasure trip.
>And when one considers how love is viewed as righteous, wonderful, and good, seen as a gift from Heaven itself. Who's to say God and Satan are not one in the same?
>There's no point to any of this, is there Dear Reader? Ungnown?
>Why even torture my weak heart with love, especially with the most horrid and disgusting forms of it?
>Is Enkough correct? Is love really not meant for beings like us? Do you agree? Should I agree?
>Is it all worth the pain? The complete emptiness as we lay in bed at night, alone and under our cold sheets? Is it worth the yearning hour-long gazes at the object of our affection? Is love worth anything?
-Is it even worth dreaming of it?-