Cracks

Stones and dirt lay underfoot down barren streets. Houses rose askew; crooked angles making me shudder and hold my head till they straightened. Twists and tunnels through endless seas of brick – a murmur up ahead, as faces looked down at me from bedrooms. 

I waved to me in a doorway, ‘more?’ I asked. I nodded and pointed down the street. Hands grabbed at me as I walked, through windows, round corners, ‘give it to us’ they cried. ‘Don’t do it’ they wailed. 

Closer and closer, I multiplied, hundreds of me, stopping me, deploring – I punched and kicked and bit and scratched, on hands and knees until I reached the house. 

Dazed and confused I filled rooms, younger me, older me – wanting to return, I entered and there it stood, more crack than mirror; another one spreading and from it – hands, a leg, a foot. I stood transfixed as my face appeared.

I looked uncertain as I handed me a tube of glue and nodded. I began spreading it over the mirror, one by one screams from outside, ringing through the streets, ‘no’ they besieged. Behind me, I fought myself as my hands grew sticky and one by one, I vanished leaving just me, stuck to the mirror, gazing at myself. 

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