Gears of Editing: The Final Draft

Evening Fellow Gears!

I'm a man of my word and so, as promised, here is the edited, potentially final (possibly second) draft of the story I wrote a few days ago. 

Some thoughts about the story: I mainly wrote this as an exercise and response to a photograph I witnessed on deviantart.com. As of this writing, I seemed to have misplaced the location of the photograph so no, you can't see it. But hopefully, by reading the story I've written, you'll generate a vivid imagination that will create your own version of the photo! Isn't that so much better? 

I strived to create a reflection of the feelings I've had while trying to overcome my own self devaluation, something I know everyone on Earth struggles with. If you don't, then you're lying to yourself. And you probably hate me right now. Good! You should be the one to read on first! 

My focus was an emotional connection, a struggle to recreate the feelings and emotions I've had with the struggles I've faced and to reflect them back to you. I'm hoping that for everyone that read this, you'll find that connection. Feel that mirror staring you back in the face and reflecting what you see of yourself.

As always though, be as brutal as possible in your comments! I'm still working on my bear hide of dragon scales that will protect me from all the haters and negatists (negative people. Yes, I made it up. Get over it) this world will throw at me, my family, and my companies. 

The gates are opened!

P O I S O N E D  L E N S

If I stare hard enough, I could just barely make them out beyond the reflection of my own eye. Tiny floating mirages of blurring images that seemed to drift up from the depths of the mirror shard before stealthily fading away.  Almost as if the shard was a lurid, eerie catacomb, a grave for the stories of people past who longed to find a little something of themselves in the steady reflection but instead, left a fragment of themselves behind. Maybe if I moved it a little bit to the left?...

“Jenny!”

Blink! I’m back in the real world now and looking around. Who did that sound like?

“Amber?” I called out, idly glancing around for a face I might recognize. I smoothly slid the shard into my handbag so nothing would seem out of the ordinary.

“No ho silly! It’s me, Grace!...” said a pretty red head waving frantically as she walked up, seeming to materialize from thin air. I set my coffee down and focused on her face, trying to place her. “From our Gathering days?” said Grace, slightly annoyed. She must have gotten impatient but I still didn’t recognize her.

“Oh! Grace! I think I remember you now!”

No... I didn’t remember her at all. Better to pretend though.

“I’m so glad you do! Mind if I sit down with you?”

“No no. Not at all. Let me move over some for you,” I said while scooching my chair around the table to make room.

“Excellent. I haven’t seen you in so long Jenny! How long has it been? Maybe six or seven years?”

“Grace! Please! You can’t bring that up! I’m in denial about anything that happened closer to ten years ago than one,” I playfully snapped while flicking my hand at her. She laughed as well then ordered an unusual drink.

Really though? I did hate it. Hated being reminded of how old I was.

“Don’t worry Jenny, my lips are sealed.” giggled Grace as she smiled and zipped her lips shut. She gave a sudden sigh, closed her eyes, and leaned her back into the iron mesh chair and seemed to enjoy the clean outdoor air for a few moments. I noticed that her body seemed to relax with every breath she took so I attempted the same.

Turning my gaze up at the gray sky, I vividly noticed the leaves from nearby trees pulsing with life, a subtle reflection of my own breathing. Though... Instead of experiencing a calming sensation spreading through my body, I felt a soft pull, a persuasion, toward the ground. As if a great hand was lifting me down towards something and I didn’t have a choice where I went.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” asked Grace quietly. Reverently if I hadn’t known better. Maybe I didn’t. I still can’t remember this woman. She was sitting up straight, her drink in hand and her focus on me. At least, it felt that way since I hadn’t stopped staring at and relishing the clouds. Her focus felt like the insistence of a child lightly poking you with a silk stick for attention. Obvious, but still considerate.

Myself flashed from the shard. A brown eye. Cold. Menacing.

“It is, Grace,” I answered with the hint of a smile. Rolling my head so I could see her better, I tried to recognize her again. Something tugged, somewhere, but clearly didn’t want to come loose. “Which Gatherer group were you in?”

“Abby’s. We often covered the far north side of the Yard.”

“The North Side?” I perked up. I knew Abby and I also knew the North side of the Yard. And what that meant. Silent whispers caught here and there named it the Crypt.

Strictly rumor though.

“That must have been terrifying!”

“Maybe a little,” teased Grace with a sneaky fox grin. Her eyes seemed to glint with amusement at my curiosity.

I stayed silent and nonchalant, not wanting to rise to her obvious bait. A thought flitted through my mind: The shard and... honeycombs? Grace started to laugh and took another sip.

“You sure are patient Jenny,” remarked Gace after a few moments. She leaned forward and put her elbows on the table, nestling her head in her hands. “It actually wasn’t that bad. The worst part was the Artifacts. Little trinkets and junk scattered all around that you absolutely had to avoid. Who knew what horrors they could do to you!” She took another sip and delicately licked her lips, all grace. “Avoiding anything that wasn’t whole was the only way to stay safe. To stay sane even.” Falling silent, her face contemplative, Grace took another sip. A pleasantly chill breeze snagged strands of our hair and tried to pull them along.

From out of nowhere, stupidity took over and I blurted “I have one!” in a tight, hissing whisper. I gasped and clapped my hand over my mouth, horrified at my admission!

“I know.”

That was all she said! She went on as if I hadn’t just admitted to owning a Devil’s Artifact. Within a few moments though, I had regained my composure. Imagining my eye in the shard had helped, tremendously. The feeling of being pulled had upgraded to feeling like I was being dragged.

“How?”

Waiting. The chill breeze picked up, tugging harder at our stray hair strands.

“I have one too, Jenny,” she admitted. She turned away from her drink and stared at me. As our gazes locked, her focus on my eyes, I truly saw her. It was right then that I knew her, knew where she’d come from.”

“I know you!” Grace only nodded gravely. “Get away from me witch! I won’t do it!” I tried to stand up but had to sit back back down breathless, my courage straggled by fear. My vision swirled though I could clearly see Grace’s brown eyes, my eyes at the center.  “No... Don’t. You can’t do this!” I pleaded, whimpered. The pull was stronger now. Irresistable even. Irrationality gripped me and before I knew it, I’d pulled the mirror shard out and was holding it up to the sky. I leaned my back and stared at my own eye, the eye of grace and snarled. A moment later, I smiled and saw wrinkles gather around my eye, accenting the gray clouds and pulsing leaves behind my withering hand, in the background. A pure black tar began to bleed into the mirror shard, engulfing the reflection entirely. My silent scream of terror echoed in the catacombs.

“I look tired,” whispered Grace. She laid a soft, warm hand on my arm. A beacon of hope! I struggled feebly, unable to tear my gaze away from me as I was swallowed whole...

Slowly my reflection began to come back, though I was no longer sitting in a cafe next to Grace. I jerked my head from side to side, panic welling up in my chest as I tried to find anything, something! All I saw was the void though. I screamed until my throat was raw, and then screamed some more, knowing I was trapped! Frantically, I held up the mirror and was relieved to find my own reflection staring back at me. I laughed nervously, happy to find something normal. Without warning though, my reflection began to fracture, leaving deep crevices in my face. My eye began to droop, the pressure of lying to myself finally materializing into a physical burden I could not carry. From the fractures drifted an outpouring of all the fears I had. My once fierce brown eye began to wilt as the slime of dread consumed who I was.

I reached out and found resistance all around me. A slight shimmer outlined my prison, revealing a somewhat familiar shape. A honeycomb.

“Poisoned Honeycombs. That’s what we call them dear! Welcome to your prison Void Jenny. Where you fill your own prison with sludge until you drown in your minds decay and disgust! Your own doubts and fears fill this abyss!” boomed a heartless voice in the distance. Laughter surrounded me as I struggled to come free, the slime oozing from my pores to stream down my body and pool at the bottom. My sludge was the shimmering dark purple of poison, slowly, and inevitably rising. I clawed at the walls of my prison, screaming and crying at the same time, trying to fight but not knowing how. I could feel my fear being leached from my body only to cover me from the knee down in a fatal mixture. The higher my sludge rose, the harder it become to move. I began to give up, watching as my reflection showed a gaunt, weak woman unwilling to fight much longer. I looked poisoned, tired... Dead. That was who I was and so I stopped struggling, letting my fears gush out of me to swallow me and my reflection. I closed my eyes, and opened my mouth, the dismal sludge reaching my chin.

“Now. Fight!”

I closed my mouth just as the oil reached my lip. Minute traces seeped into me but I closed my mouth tighter.

“My reflection is me! I can’t fight that!” I screamed in my mind, the terrors of my life and fears threatening to devour me with a ruthlessness only I could enact on myself. I could see my light winking out, the honeycomb nearly full with my own fear, doubt, and crushing despair. I thrashed and kicked and scrabbled weakly but the sludge was too thick. I knew I was embracing my own defeat. I could already see my light, my fire, being snuffed out.

“Let me help you.”

Frantically, I opened my eye and saw my pupil dart back and forth in the hazy reflection, the gelatinous prison holding me firm. That wasn’t me who said that! I was holding my breath, trying so incredibly hard to keep my mouth shut.

“Your reflection is the you you see.”

Again! I doubled my efforts, fighting back failure and embarrassment to find that strong, kindly voice. The weight of my fear was still consuming my light and crushing my air, blotting me out with the ink of my own disgust. I didn’t give up though. I continued to struggle, despite the pressure building in my chest.

I search around, knowing that if I could find the voice, I would be okay. Up, down, and around I search, desperate for even an inkling of what the voice offered. Moving was nauseously difficult, the tar making every moment sickeningly hard. I began to panic, my mouth opening barely enough to let another trace of the paralyzing fear drip into me as I fought for a breath. I closed it tight again, knowing I was drowning, drifting in hopelessness.

I was alone! Alone with my corrupted soul as I drowned myself! My eyes began to crack, a slight, little shattering that fragmented my very being. I can’t do this! I can’t voice my most tainted and deepest fears! My mind will break and my soul will shatter, leaving little remose or memory of who I’d hoped to be!

The Breaking had begun.

Finally, my own soul own consume itself and the fight would be done. My lips began to drift apart, ever so slightly.

The Shattering progressed.

A blink. A light.

Who I hoped to be...

Another blink. Another light.

Who I thought I was... The woman, I know I’m supposed to be...

Pressure on. Pressure off.

“Reflecture, Jenny. Your reflection fractured!”

A sweet breath in. A sweet breath out.

The shard. The shard stares back at me. I see it. Enrapturing me with the unyielding soul of my fire staring back at me.

My vision blurs. My vision focuses.

That’s me! That’s my eye! My fire! My confident, unyielding fire! I am that strength! I am that soul! That’s me! That’s my soul, myself!

A pulse. A blink.

Who I hoped to be.... “There is always hope.”

A belief. A vow. A breath.

That’s my soul, myself... “I believe in hope. I vow on my soul. I breathe out my fear.”

I flick my eye open and find my own strength staring right back at me. The fractures are gone, replaced by the smooth reflecting glass of the shard. The poisoned honeycomb had drained. Though my body was wrapped in a thin layer of ooze and traces still dripped from the ceiling, my hope has been rekindled. My resolve had resurfaced, lighting the match that would burn away my doubt. I stared right back at me and didn’t flinch, the expected anger and self-loathing charred away in my rebirth.

I study the poisoned honeycomb, my Prison void. As my blaze grows stronger, the walls begin to look like a crippled icicle, rendering a slow dripping death as if melted by the morning sun.

I see the leaves swaying gently overhead, the gray clouds lazily rolling by in the background. Groaning, I sit up straight and look for Grace, There isn’t a trace of her anywhere. Except... The waiter slips into the corner of my eye.

“Excuse me! Waiter? Sir?” I call out, perhaps a little too desperately. He nods his head, fills another patrons glass with water, then saunters over.

“Anything you need miss?”

“Yes. Was there another lady sitting here with me at all?” My voice was shaking, only because I knew I didn’t want to hear the answer.

The waiter shook his head.

“No ma’am. Although... I did notice that you were staring at that mirror shard for about half an hour. Just held it up to the sky and stared without moving... Some of us were getting a little worried.” He sounded disgusted and weirded out. I didn’t blame him.

“Alright, thanks. I’m okay though. Really.” He looked skeptical but walked off. I didn’t even notice. Looking down at the shard, I could clearly see the fragments of those who survived before me and the souls of those who hadn’t. The fog had been lifted. I saw the dark fragment I’d left behind in the poisoned honeycomb drift up from the depths, only to be dragged back down without pity.

Turning the fragment over, I found a pen and wrote something on the back. Before I could change my mind, I put the fragment upside down, message up, on the far edge of the table, closest to the street. I left my money and slipped into the thin crowd without looking back.

Sometime later, a young boy picked up a little brown trinket with some writing on it. Curious, he turned it over.

“A mirror fragment?” asked the boy to no one. He turned it back over and read the inscription:

L E N S  O F  S O U L

If you look close enough, you might see them.

Little poisoned honeycombs

Just beyond your own eye.

The eye that hides them, guards it.

The thing beyond a reflection:

R E F L E C T U R E

If you look... Close enough...

Eh? How was that for a journey! I'm biased though so that might have a little something to do with my confidence in regards to this story.

It came out longer than I desired but the overall effect is very vivid and empowering, I believe. It's possible that I'll go back and do another rewrite to shrink it down for condensing and refinement. But for now, I'm decently happy with how this turned out.

My only question for those that finished: 1} Did you feel the connection?

Thanks for taking the time to read the story! I appreciate your sacrifice as I know this is time you will NEVER GET BACK! I hope the disappearance of this time forever was well worth it.

~ Storyteller