Short Story There is a reason mirrors do not exist.

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Qui Devorat

Terrarian
There is a reason mirrors do not exist.
The reflection, the mystery.
The fear of the unknown.
Terrible secrets abound.
Secrets not meant for man.


2nd November, 1967
Dear Diary
It seems that insanity has consumed my lord's mind once more, having stormed out into the middle of the town and declared that he was a prophet, and that the gods had blessed him with knowledge. Knowledge that man hasn't known since the fall.
Knowledge that could potentially lead us into a technological revolution.
He seems crazy, always was a little off, but he was the main authority around here, so we could only stand and watch while the "prophet" spouted gibberish like a mad priest to his congregation.
-David
 
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3rd of November, 1967
Dear Diary,
The fool is actually going through with it! He had held a private meeting with the glassmaker and blacksmith earlier, telling them to make the contraption shown to him in his dreams. Even they thought he was a madman, but they bowed to his wishes. And that was all that was done about it. Until later, when he called me into his office, desiring a small chat.
"Mr Cresswell, do you understand this influential invention that the gods have showed me?"
"No, my Lord. I don't.
"Ah. Let me show you then, my faithful assistant." His voice surprisingly endearing, as if he knew the locals were thinking of overthrowing him, "mistaking" him for being completely insane.
He then pulls out a rolled set of blueprints and spread it out on the table, revealing the blue paper's contents to all.
"This," he explained, a hint of glee in his voice. "This is what I call, a Mirror!"
A mirror?
I had heard rumors of a similarly named invention in notes and scraps of paper written before the fall.
My lord continued. "A simply made pane of glass used for studying your reflection."
"It's strangely simple for a supposed device that will cause the revolution that you speak of."
"Why yes, it is. But the gods, they promised me that it would bring great prosperity to all the races!"
I looked at him as if he was now stupid, then got up and left without a word.
Bad things were going to come of this, I know it.
-David
 
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10th of November, 1967
Dear Diary
The "mirror" has been created, as I heard the damned thing crash from it's frame and my lord sputtering furiously.
But alas, it did not break as I hoped it would.
My lord rolled it in as we were out with the locals that day. Displaying it for all to see. A weary smile on his weathered face, as if he found the proof he had been looking for.
"Behold! He yelled at the top of voice, as if he wanted the heavens to know of this, "The mirror!"
And the horde of peasants, farmers and others gawked at him as if he was a genius.
The mirror. A famous invention given to him by the Gods.
If it was from the Gods it would be at least more useful than fixating on yourself.
But then I remember, the Gods were always a fickle bunch.

-David
 
12th of November, 1967
Dear Diary.
I don't know what I just witnessed, but, well, I don't know.
Something woke me in the middle of the night, a chill down my spine. A feeling of doom.
Eventually the feeling abated and I thought I would be free to settle back into my slumber.
But it seems it wouldn't be that way yet.
As I began to slowly drift to sleep. I heard a sharp, grinding sound emitting from the wall behind me. As I turned around I find a lengthy fissure in my wall, several inches wide, as if something was trying to claw through the wall, to get to me.
But as I watched, the crack seemed to grow wider, lengthier and it had started to branch off into small sections.
Splitting off into many little cracks before suddenly halting.
Then slowly, surely, the cracks started to move. The smaller sections first, sliding across the wall without a sound.
Dragging the rest around with them, as if a baby taking it's first steps.
Then slowly, surely, it started to peel itself off the wall. It's limbs, now encompassing the entire room in size, clawing the carpet and bed posts, as if trying to find something to anchor itself to so it could pull itself off faster.
I thought then would be a good time to leave, quickly shutting the door and hiding in the basement.
The rest of the night was a nightmare, hearing sounds of that formless thing in my room and also plagued with trickeries of the mind, as if the sight of it had rendered my eyes unable to choose what is real and what is not.
Eventually dawn broke, and I felt it safe to consider going back to my bedroom.
It had completely demolished my room. My drawers and bed had been smashed to splinters and one of my windows had been blown out, as if by a bomb.
I knew bad things would come of this!
-David
 
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