I looked into my mirror last night and saw a snake.
Its head was shaped like an arrow, with gleaming eyes set like polished quartz, and an idly flicking tongue which seemed to draw a faint whisp of smoke in its wake. It sketched vacant patterns through the air.
“Hi.”
“Um. Hello.”
“Where are you going?”
“Back to bed.”
“Ah.”
It made a noise caught halfway between a sigh and a hiss.
“But we’ve only just met, and baby, you’re the one who walked in.”
“Yeah, it’s my bathroom. What’re you doing here?”
“Talking to you.”
I shrugged.
“Fair enough.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it fair. You’re out there, I’m stuck in here.”
“I’m okay with that.”
Its laugh was like a dog choking on a chicken bone.
“Stay awhile.”
“Alright. Not every day I talk to a snake in the mirror.”
“Is that so?”
It grinned, its tongue darting briefly to the corner of its mouth and promptly receding.
“What’s your name?”
“Tyler.”
Mundane, I thought.
“Asshole.”
“What?”
“That’s a dick move, calling my name ‘mundane.’ Your name just means ‘dove.’ How lofty, a sky-mouse. I used to eat those everyday.”
“Used to?”
It coughed to the side, exhuming a faint cloud of dust, a brownish vapor.
“Used to. Back when I had arms to climb.”
There was a bandage wrapped about its torso, a third of its length down from the head. It was safety-pinned and dappled with purple stains.
“What happened?”
“I loved a woman.”
“Oh.”
“Best mistake of my life.”
“I see.”
“Do you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You people and your eyes.. it’s just funny. And infuriating. I liked you better when you were blind.”
“Well, yeah. You’re an ambush predator. We can see you now.”
“Fair.”
It smiled, and exhaled. The mirror fogged.
“What was her name?”
“Who?”
“The woman you loved.”
Its tail flicked.
“Val.”
“Short for Valery?”
“Probably.”
“What happened?”
“Between us?”
“Of course.”
It sighed and stretched its head in a slow circle.
“Haven’t talked about it in a long time.”
“The night is young.”
“And so are you.”
“You loved her.”
“With all my being.”
“What went wrong?”
“I tried to give her everything. Everything I thought she wanted.”
“Sounds like you tried your best.”
“That’s not the point.”
It blinked.
“She had vision problems. No depth-perception, didn’t get angles. Shadows were scary, she couldn’t comprehend how the sun catches an object. Her world was flat.”
“Sounds dull.”
Its eyes narrowed.
“What do you know?”
“Uh..”
It choked out another laugh.
“Relax. Yeah, dull, tell me about it. Boring, 2-D slideshow.”
“So, go on.”
“I tried to show her. I took her to the tops of the trees, at sunset. I explained how the rays hit each branch, and how their shadow was cast behind them.”
“But she didn’t get it.”
“She couldn’t.”
“So what did you do?”
It sighed, shrugging, and a patch of its skin sloughed off onto the floor.
“You look like you’re coming apart.”
“I’ve been at this for awhile. My skin is tired, and it may leave me soon.”
“You mean you’re molting?”
“Something like that.”
Another swath fell from the base of its head.
“‘Changing’ is a better way to put it. After all, the word for ‘not changing’ is death.”
“Does it hurt?”
“What doesn’t?”
I nodded, not knowing what to say.
It coughed up dust again, and spat into the sink.
“So, when I realized she couldn’t understand the sun, I tried with the moon.”
“Was it any better?”
“Not much. I didn’t really know what I was thinking, I just didn’t understand her. I’d hoped maybe she could learn by contrast. But then I had an idea.”
It adjusted its posture, coiling, and managed a whistle somewhere between a tea kettle and a wolf’s howl.
“I waited for an eclipse, to show her how the world can be caught in the shadow of two great lights. Maybe it could get through to her.”
“But it didn’t.”
“No, it did. Too much.”
“How so?”
“She ran. Crying.”
“What did you do?”
“I followed.”
It stretched again, and laid its head against the wall. A flicker of a cold grin danced across its face.
“I was distraught, and she was shattered. The spheres had shown her exactly how much she couldn’t see.”
“How did you help?”
“I did the only thing left to do. It was simple.”
“What?”
“I ripped out her eyes.”
It held me in its gaze, and every muscle rebelled against my desperate mind shouting “move.”
“You must think me cruel.”
Its tongue traced absent-minded diamonds.
“I know she did.”
“You ripped out her fucking eyes.”
“Oh, don’t be so gauche. Her children can all see, can’t you?”
“What is your point.”
“I didn’t leave her. I gave one of them back. And I gave her one of mine.”
It winked. To the right, where shining stone had been stared a perfect, hazel eye. Glittering with terror, more than human.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Her boyfriend wasn’t so happy with it either.”
“I wouldn’t fucking think so.”
“He couldn’t stand the difference.”
“What did he do?”
“He got jealous.”
It grinned. I felt sick.
“He picked up a jagged stone, and took them out himself.”
My heart was pounding, but still it held me, smiling lazily. Its tail whipped about, excited.
“Don’t be so freaked out. His own eyes, not hers.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“You asked.”
“How did you lose your arms?”
“They told God.”
It flashed another smile and, for the first time, I saw glistening fangs.
“Now I’m here.”
“I want you to leave.”
“I don’t think that’d be fun. See, I’ve always wanted a matching set; the chance to live in her old world. Maybe they’ll let me back in. I’m not going anywhere.”
It breathed out again, and the mirror fogged entirely.
“Now.. is it the left, or right?”
It chuckled, the sound of a downed power-line, spitting and arcing in the middle of the road.
“Oh, just to be safe.”
A scent of decay flooded the room.
A cold, rough tendril brushed my neck.
A piercingly wet sound, like a body hitting pavement at the end of a fall from some skyscraper.
I screamed.
Darkness.
Thank you for writing this down for me.
