Microfic :: ~Part of You~ (Patreon)

Wake up.

The air within the room has dropped below freezing, inducing shivers. Only the comfort of the duvet offers any form of protection against it. The air sparkles, snowflakes drifting in from the open windows, the curtains gently lapping up the breezes that sweep through. A soft melody accompanies it, soft notes on a piano. The room is painted over with shades of light and deep blue, and the walls glitter as though frozen over.

No memory of leaving the windows open exists, especially on such a cold, Winter’s night. The duvet is thrown back. The cold, wooden flooring is braved. A hesitant trepidation forward upon bare feet.

Something flashes. The mirror. It’s just you, looking back out from the frame. The frame was never that big. You smile. You aren’t smiling. Your hand reaches forward. Yet you remain immobile. Petrified.

The mirror shatters, and out from the cracks between the shards of glass, black mist trickles down, coiling in the cold air. It pools upon the floor and gradually takes shape. A figure is emerging. It’s you... but somehow, not you. Adumbral and gothic. You step forward on newly formed feet, towards yourself. Somehow, both existences ring true at once. You can feel all the sensations that your other half is experiencing. But you cannot control your own shadow, you quickly learn, as your hand reaches out and cups your jaw, gripping it.

“My, am I glad to be freed from there. You don’t know how hard it’s been, having to watch us fumble around from afar.”

Your touch is cold. A black, smooth glove made of such a strange material on your bare skin. You look closer at yourself and realise you’re coated in it. Like a viscous shadow, it embraces your form. Hugging it, curving it in all the right places. You feel heels extending from the balls of your feet, pushing your form up. You’re taller than yourself. Purple, glowing eyes peering down into your own. Your chin is pushed up, making sure you’re looking up at yourself, forcing you slightly onto tiptoes.

“But don’t worry. We’re in control now. Just embrace this, and let us take over.”

The words emit from two pairs of lips. You raise an arm, and your arm raises with it to match. You smile. You smile. Perfectly choreographed; a perfect reflection. Only, you’re no longer in control. Because you are.

You stride around yourself and you tread around to follow. A full semi-circle, so that your positions are swapped - symmetrical. And then, you walk backwards. You’re smirking. Still transfixed by those amethyst eyes. You realise quickly where you’re leading yourself. Like a puppet you’re helpless to follow. The further your shadow confidently swaggers from you, the further you tumble back towards the mirror. Your back bumps into it, and it greets you with liquid coolness. It is no longer cracked, it is a smooth, vertical pool, waiting for you. It accepts you, wading over you, submerging you. A glassy, liquid touch. It bubbles as the last of you enters, and it seals over with a gleam as it fully envelopes you, solidifying once more.

You stand in a ghostly representation of your bedroom, but the geometry is flipped. You powerfully pace around your environment, a hand on your hip, flexing your fingers. But you’re just a mimic. Even your own, twisted smile is caused by external influences. You once again move closer to the mirror. You look through the frame, into your own eyes. You caress your body, exaggerating your sense of ownership. Tracing over it, cementing in your understanding of exactly how powerless you are.

You wave yourself goodbye and laugh, before both speaking in unison.

“Good doll. We hope you enjoy the show. We’ll make sure you experience every part of it.”