I find it most reassuring that we are nearly never aware of our condition in time. We pass from one day to the next, from one project to the other, with the vision of the all blocked. 

We focus, not live, on the present so much that the future becomes a foggy and dark thing. Always the same, non de less. And the past becomes a distorted child memory, only remembering few things and badly, always subject to change based on how we should have lived it. 

 

But more disturbing than anything else is the all. That forbidden thing which so few dare to look at. The all that tells us of the little free time that we have, the all that tells us that we are prisoners of routine and habit and freedom can be won only through a hard and bloody battle with ourself. But most importantly that we are mortal creatures destined to die and become dust; probably sooner than we thought. That in so little time we can never develop all of our capacities, individuate fully, unite all the components of our psyche.

 

My father died when I was four years old, my mother soon followed. All through my life, I had been reminded of it. Through the death of a close friend or some distant news about wars going on.

“Why even bother? Live for the moment. Enjoy life pleasures.” I told myself time and time again. I began living in the most destitute of ways, I end up being the most destitute of man.

Yet even in those moments of ecstasy, even at the peak of pleasure, that phantom was still there. There was never enough time, never enough money, to do things. I begin to schedule my pleasures like a workman does his job. But even this was useless. There was always so little time…

I was at my house one afternoon when I received a package with a letter.
“Is with great condolences that I must inform you that Richard is dead…” the rest of the letter was a mass of “I am sorry. He was a good man. What had pushed him on such dark thoughts I don’t know” and all sort of good wishes for his souls and all other things that one writes on such occasions. However there was one particular that caught my eye “Richard nominated you in his testament, he left you something, a box. He gave express indication not to open it and deliver it to you.”

 

“Ah,” I thought to myself “I ended up on some rich man testament. Good” At this point, I cared nothing about dead and had learned to accept it as something common.

 

That box was small, barely the size of my hand. I open it, there was a mirror and on top of it a letter.

 

“Dear friend I” yes, I know you are dead “so I planned to escape from the confines of time” how long is this letter? Too long. 

So I skimmed it, barely looking at the words until I reached the end

“So I give it to you hoping that it can do more good than harm to your moods.” ok so what is this mirror?

I picked it up. It appeared like an ordinary mirror, indistinguishable from any other. I looked at it and mirrored my image. When I stop looking at it I realize that I was somewhere else.
This was not my apartment, those not my things. Everything that was far appeared distorted. Everything close simplifies. The furniture had no ornaments. The walls no decorations. Where I was?

I exited the door and there was nothing. Like a painting, everything in the distance was less and less detail. The more I moved from my house the more things became abstract, approximations if you wish.

There were no people. I was completely alone.

 

I turned back home and re-read the letter. But the letters looked like a child scribble. I was there a long time and I became hungry. 

Suddenly an apple appeared in my hand. 

I desired a cake and a cake appeared on the table.

I looked at the walls and desire that they be blue. They became blue.

 

I was enthusiast albeit much confused. I went outside and looked at a tree. It was a hard endeavour but after three hours the tree perfectly defined in every branch. I looked at a shop and after an hour everything there was colourful.

 

I could do anything there. I was akin to a god!

 

The first thing that I did was defining my home in every little detail. Finally, I could have all the things which I couldn’t afford. Platinum frames? No problem! Golden staircase? A moment though. A more comfy bed? Why didn’t you said before?

 

I created and created. No longer bound by such things as money, people or material. I was completely free. 

 

Not long after a certain a type of urges that the more untempered of you will surely know well, hit me. And I returned to my usual state of despair.

 

Day after day passed and my urges were growing worse and worse. I was not habituated to bear this much solitude, this deafening silence for so long. I could eat yes, but after? At the high of my desperation, I did the unthinkable. If I managed to create food, drink and furniture why I shouldn’t be able to create something living?

 

I passed the whole day trying to create something, at first I aimed high, creating a human being. But not long after I realize how complex and complicated that was so I decided to create a lizard. I don’t know how much time I spent on it but what I created was… well let’s say that the eyes were not the only thing unaligned. I named it Fred, Fred the lizard. 

 

I looked outside and realize that it was still day. I passed a long time looking outside a bit drinking and a bit eating and realize that there was no night here. It was frozen in time. I went outside, the fruits at the market, the colours, the dust, everything was frozen in time. I looked at myself and noticed that I hadn’t change the slightest from when I entered that place, despite heavy drinking and eating.

 

I looked in the mirror and noticed that horrendous part of my head were hairs had already begun falling. I make them regrow, I could shape myself here, I could become younger, I could become whatever I wanted to be!

 

After a week or so of work with only Fred at my side, I nearly finished my first real work. It was a beautiful woman in the flower of her youth. Splendid in every curve and detail. I nearly wished for it to be intelligent and conscious when I thought struck me “Do I really want another person here? What if she has other desires? What if she becomes envious of me? 

No, I couldn’t allow it. She would take away my freedom!”

I passed a very long time studying how I could modify only certain things, but that didn’t matter to me, I had infinite time. At the end I created her with strong instincts but without envy or cruelty, giving her very little intelligence and consciousness. 

 

She looked at me, I looked at her, she was perfect.

 

I created another one and another one. Getting a little bit better each time. I created all sort of rooms to have fun with them. Finally, all my desires were fulfilled. Finally, I was happy.

 

One day I woke up and looked at them in the eyes... and I was suddenly very depressed. 

 

I meditate for a long time before realizing what it was that was oppressing me. I didn’t enjoy other kinds of pleasure, more intellectual ones.

There was one thing that I always wanted to do and that was playing the violin. It was to much time consuming for me. But now it was different, after much trial and error, I managed to create a violin.

 

I play it daily and nearly found it more enjoyable than anything else. I also made some roads and landscapes to do my walks. I created a bit there and a bit there. Adding this or that when I felt like it.

 

…

 

I woke up and closed myself into my room playing the violin. After that, I had a light breakfast and looked outside the window. The wild landscapes were beautiful, less so the polls and random beds, I should remake them one day. I exited my house and looked at what to do. I wasn’t in the mood to drown myself in pleasures so I did a long walk. I realize that this had become habitual, was I growing old? How much had passed? Weeks? Months? Years? I didn’t know. 

 

While on such a path I smelled something strange, it was like rotten flesh. But that was impossible. I hurry up and looked at where the smell came from and to my horror, I saw a nymph cut in half decomposing. I vomited much and run back home. Many, too many things were missing. I looked above, at the sky and it was dark. The sun had set and something was behind me. I could feel it’s breath. 

 

I turned and saw a nightmare, a creature that I couldn’t have created not even in my wildest dreams. He looked at me and spoke: “It’s a long time that I am observing you. I hate flesh. I hate humans. But I love that sounds that you make, make them again…” she said chewing a bone.

I didn’t have a choice.

I run into my run and picked up the violin. Not even the time to turn and he was already there.. and there were many more. They asked me to play. They asked me to entertain them. I agreed

 

The landscape became darker and darker, more and more sinister and populated by those things. They hated my human creation, I believe that they also hated me but kept me alive because of my music. One day they also found some sketches that I had made and ‘asked’ me to draw them. I did it as best as I could.

 

It was truly a nightmare that I didn’t want to remember. Life was unbearable only my violin and sketches kept me sane… sane… what did the letter say? I don’t know what pushed him? Had Richard done the same thing? Had those beings made him go insane and once, somehow, exited the mirror world, kill himself?

 

I didn’t want to think about it. I just wanted this to end. 

 

…

 

When I woke up I didn’t recognize my house nor my face. It was still the same day as I looked into the mirror. I smashed the mirror into the ground, but it didn’t fracture. So I put a cloth on it and hide it.

I didn’t know what to do for a long time. My friends immediately noticed that something was wrong with me, that I wasn’t the same anymore, but I couldn’t tell them. 

 

One day I decided to finally learn the violin for good. I had much practice but nothing in the way of theory and this was really detrimental to my skills.

There was a teacher of violin, very good they said, that could teach me.

 

When I went there I noticed a photo as soon as I entered the room, an old photo, it was that of Richard. Not even having said hi that I asked him about it.

“That photo? Ah yes… it was that of one of my ex-students… unfortunately he died still very young…”

We talked a bit. Played a lot and I found that I wasn’t as half good as I thought I was, and lesson come and went like nothing.

 

One day the professor showed me some of his music and artwork, the music was great, the artwork less so. He left in the basement while he went to prepare the tea.

 

“Some of those artworks are so… familiar,” I thought.

There was a painting hide by a cloth and I started trembling. “No, no, it can’t be.”

 

I removed the cloth to reveal a very familiar image, an horror a nightmare, that monster had returned and all the sudden I wasn’t there anymore.

 

The end