Brian is an author who focuses primarily on Sci-Fi and Fantasy stories. You can learn more about his stories and process over on his author page
I don’t have a reflection. I used to, once upon a time. It was before I discovered that reflections aren’t what we think. There really is a universe on the other side: the same, but backward. Well, mostly the same. As far as I can tell, my reflection is the only one that’s gone.
About a decade ago, I was standing in the bathroom, having just taken a shower, and checking myself over - making sure everything was clean. I brushed my hair back and saw movement in my reflection. Someone had come into view. They were wearing black, including a face mask and had stepped in from the side, well behind me. I started to turn my head to look, but noticed my reflection lean in closer to the mirror curiously instead. I turned my eyes to the side, looking for the person behind me. Nobody was there.
I turned back to the mirror where my reflection looked intrigued. He must have been wondering why his reflection had turned. The dark figure moved closer. I gasped and pointed, but my reflection just leaned in a little closer. He didn’t know there was someone in the room with him. Suddenly, the figure produced a knife and rammed it bloodily into my reflection’s ribs, again and again. I stared in disbelief as my reflection fell, stunned to the ground and out of my view.
I’d witnessed a murder, but there was nothing I could do about it. The figure looked at me and placed its finger in front of its lips as if to shush me. One blue eye and one black eye looked at me through the glass, then they turned and walked away, as if nothing had happened. I watched as the body was picked up and carried off later that night. None of it happened here. I sometimes wonder if those first responders had their reflections go missing that night, but none that I’ve asked have any recollection of it.
People believe me about the reflection - it’s impossible to deny. Nobody believes me about the murder. Why would they? Everyone else’s reflection is fine. When I walk down the street next to someone, their reflection moves as if it’s talking to the missing me on the other side. There’s no sign that I’m missing there, except for the lack of my reflection itself.
It’s been interesting living like this. Most people just find it an odd curiosity. I’ve had someone accuse me of being a vampire (in broad daylight) and a variety of other unholy monsters.
Today, though, I marry my husband and move into his apartment. He’s a gorgeous man; bright green eyes, blond hair, and a muscular body. We’ve been engaged for over a year, and every time we’re in the mirror together, he seems just as happy as if there were another me next to him. It’s strange, but comforting to know that mirror-him is as happy as the real him, even without me there.
As we walk down the isle, tuxedoes pristine and shining in the daylight, we smile at each other and step up to the officiant. He goes through the words and we respond with our vows, say our I dos, and we’re married. It’s the best feeling I’ve had in my life. We get home to our apartment and step into the bathroom next to each other. I remove my watch. The same one I’ve had for decades. The one that never leaves my wrist. And that’s when I see something strange. There’s a man in the mirror, replicating my every movement. He’s next to my husband, looking back at me in the same confused way I’m looking at him. He has black hair, a thinner face than mine, no beard, but he clearly moves just like me. He and I set our watches down and look at each other in confusion and then he smirks. His eyes. One is blue, the other black.