mirror of https://github.com/nealey/Horrors2
89 lines
3.4 KiB
TeX
89 lines
3.4 KiB
TeX
\chapauth{A Child's Letter}
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\chapter{The Mirror}
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Luke Bavarious' eyes rolled around in their sockets, finally allowing
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him to focus again on the bathroom mirror. His Beretta still in hand, he
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wiped the few remaining flecks of sick from his mouth.
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{\em What can't I remember? I don't have any idea what I've,
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what's\ldots uggh! Too much shitty tequila}, he concluded. Again, he
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vomited.
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The reflection gazing back at him nodded even as Bavarious nodded.
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{\em I can't live like this! I'm a cop, dammit! I'm a cop! I'm a
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copI'macopI'macopI'macop}, he thought, his mind shrieking the mantra,
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causing liquid rust to ooze from his flaring nostrils.
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The reflection gazing back at him blinked. Bavarious did not.
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{\em What the hell?!}
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Suddenly, rancid vomit streamed from the Bavarious in the mirror,
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splattering the glass and causing the other to recoil. Bavarious
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stepped---or stumbled, rather---back, raised his weapon, and aimed for
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the reflection's chest.
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{\sc Boom!}
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Red pain arced across his frame moments after he pulled the
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trigger. Shards of silvered glass protruded evilly from his hands and
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chest, callously inviting Bavarious' tattered sports coat to greedily
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lick away every spent drop of blood.
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On the other side of what had been the mirror, the ``reflection'' stood,
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grinning lustily at its fallen doppelgänger.
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``Who\ldots what\ldots what are you!'' wondered Bavarious aloud.
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{\em I am you}, projected the specter as it placed a shaking withered
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hand on either side of the mirror's frame and thrust an impossibly long
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and spidery leg through the opening.
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``The {\em fuck} you are!'' shouted Bavarious, who fired three more
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rounds into the advancing creature. As every mushrooming burst of metal
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rage ripped into it, Bavarious felt as though {\em he} had been shot.
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``What are you {\em doing} to me!'' he roared, or tried to: his voice,
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hoarse, weakly reverberated throughout the dismal room. His crimson
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lifeforce spread out before him, pooling in a macabre circle.
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{\em What am I doing to you? The question, Luke, is what are you doing
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to you.}
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{\em I don't know what you're---shit, now {\em I'm} doing it---}
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``I don't know what you're talking about!''
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{\em I know}, it smiled as it injected itself into Baravious'
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reality. {\em I know.}
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That's when Bavarious realized the smile wasn't one of joy or elation;
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rather, it was one of rueful, inescapable sadness. The kind of smile one
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smiles when, having done everything to avoid a foregone conclusion, the
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conclusion looms inevitable.
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{\em I don't want to die}, whined Bavarious. {\em What do I do?}
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``You...die, Luke,'' it whispered.
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Gently---lovingly, it stroked Bavarious' cheek with its bony
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fingers. With every tortured breath, Bavarious felt his body contort,
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stretch out, become more like that of the entity now cradling his
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convulsing head.
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Maybe it was a trick of the greenish ultraviolet light; maybe it was his
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uncontrollable spasms, but Bavarious was almost---no, he was one hundred
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percent positive that the monster was somehow {\em condensing},
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coalescing: somehow, its thready arms and legs were gaining proportion
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even as its previously gaunt features seemed to swell with health.
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Through the multifaceted, bloodstained reflection of a shattered
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bathroom mirror, the last thing Bavarious ever saw was {\em himself}
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reach down and collect his Beretta.
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{\em I'm a cop}, he sighed.
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``I'm a cop,'' he said aloud, tucking his sidearm within the confines of
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his tattered sports coat and walking briskly from the room.
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