mirror of https://github.com/nealey/Horrors2
79 lines
3.0 KiB
TeX
79 lines
3.0 KiB
TeX
\chapauth{Anonymous}
|
|
\chapter{In the Mirror}
|
|
% The author asked to remain anonymous. Their explanation:
|
|
%
|
|
% My username is really dumb. That's about it.
|
|
%
|
|
% Weird. They also released this story into the public domain.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Out of the darkness came Rothard Mavalero. Grunting and thumping,
|
|
he was the city undertaker. It was not a job many would like but he
|
|
had kept it for fifty years. Some people thought that was unnatural
|
|
but they did not know the half of it. And if they knew the whole of
|
|
it they would have run in terror. Bodies interested him. He liked
|
|
the way they looked. He liked the way they felt. But most of all he
|
|
liked the way they tasted.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Today it was Mavalero's favorite kind of body. A floater from the
|
|
river. It was still fresh, like a recently caught fish. The coroner
|
|
wasn't at work yet. Nobody would know what he was doing. He dragged
|
|
the bloated corpse and looked into its eyes. Suddenly, he began to
|
|
pry the eyeball from its socket. A sweet ``snap'' sound happened as
|
|
the elastic snapped. He licked the slimy eyeball, savoring the
|
|
salty taste. Then, as the deceased's other eye seemed to watch him,
|
|
he bit into the juicy retina. It tasted chewy and meaty, just like
|
|
he had expected.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Mavalero looked down at the body tauntingly. Blood was oozing from
|
|
the empty socket. He liked that it was helpless. He stabbed at the
|
|
face to make more blood come out, then dipped his finger into the
|
|
blood-filled socket and tested the quality of the victim. When he
|
|
was done with the little game, he started to pry at the other eye.
|
|
This one did not come out so easily. It felt like it was glued into
|
|
the socket, and he had to tug and tug. But finally, with the help
|
|
of his pocket knife, it came loose. The eye stared Mavalero in the
|
|
face. He did not care. Rothard Mavalero was a very bad man. He
|
|
downed the second eye with pride, smacking his lips as he smiled in
|
|
his conquest.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
But as he began to ponder what he would eat next he saw something
|
|
in the corner of his eye. He didn't know what it was. His heart
|
|
raced like a galloping horse. He turned slowly towards what he had
|
|
seen. Then he sighed with relief, because it was just the mirror.
|
|
He had seen his own reflection.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
{\em {\ldots}or did he?}
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
He looked at the reflection, but his face looked unfamiliar. He
|
|
turned his head, and his mirror self seemed to delay a little bit
|
|
before copying him. With a piercing, inhuman scream, Rothard
|
|
Mavalero realized what he was seeing. It was not a mirror, but a
|
|
window into a room that had been cleverly copied to resemble his
|
|
evil laboratory in every respect. The man was not his reflection,
|
|
but the young but hardened detective Luke Bavarius in disguise.
|
|
Bavarius had seen everything: the body, the eye eating, the
|
|
blood.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
He felt a nervousness arise in his throat. He struggled to hold his
|
|
posture as he waited for his certain death at the hands of the
|
|
private eye. Vomitus dribbled out the mouth of Rothard Mavalero.
|
|
Then, as he watched, Bavarius reached through the glass and
|
|
strangled him alive.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|