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Sisyphean Attempts at Self-Improvement #1100553 added October 31, 2025 at 3:24pm
Restrictions: None
Upon Reflection
Dr. Vance had been treating Rebecca for three months, but she still wouldn't look at mirrors.
"It's called spectrophobia," he explained during their first session. "Fear of mirrors or reflections. We can work through this."
Rebecca had laughed bitterly. "It's not fear. It's recognition."
Today's session was different. Dr. Vance had arranged his office mirrors strategically; one behind Rebecca's chair, two on the side walls, all angled so she couldn't avoid glimpsing herself.
"Exposure therapy," he said. "You need to face this."
"You don't understand what you're doing."
"Rebecca, it's just your reflection."
She kept her eyes down. "Have you ever noticed how your reflection always looks you straight in the eye? No matter how you try to catch it off guard?"
"That's how mirrors work."
"No." Her voice was steady. "That's how they watch."
Dr. Vance made notes. Paranoid ideation. Possible dissociative symptoms.
"When did this start?"
"Six months ago. I was putting on makeup, glanced at the mirror, and realized my reflection moved first. Just a fraction of a second, but it lifted its hand before I did."
"That's impossible."
"I started testing it. Quick movements. Sudden turns. But it always knew. Always ready. Always watching with those eyes that looked like mine but weren't."
Dr. Vance tried to remain professional. "Rebecca, reflections can't—"
"Then explain this."
She pulled out her phone, opened the camera to selfie mode, and held it where only Dr. Vance could see the screen. Her image appeared normal, except the eyes. They tracked his movement independently, following him as he leaned left, then right.
He blinked. When he looked again, the reflection was normal.
"Stress hallucination," he said, though his voice wavered.
"Check your mirrors tonight, Doctor. Try to surprise them. See how they're always waiting."
That evening, Dr. Vance stood before his bathroom mirror. He closed his eyes, counted to three, then snapped them open.
His reflection was already staring back.
He tried again. Approached from the side, whipping around to face the glass.
The reflection's eyes were already locked on his.
Once more. He backed out of the room, then rushed in.
Still watching. Always watching.
And then he noticed something else. The reflection's expression wasn't quite matching his. It looked... amused.
The next session, Rebecca found Dr. Vance's office changed. Every mirror had been removed.
"You saw it," she said.
He nodded, unable to speak.
"They're not reflections," Rebecca explained. "They're observers. Using our faces, our bodies, but they're something else. Studying us. Learning us. Waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
"For enough people to notice. Once you see them watching, really see it, you can't unsee it. And once enough people know..." She trailed off.
"What happens?"
"They stop pretending to be reflections."
That night, Dr. Vance avoided every reflective surface. But as he passed his darkened television, he caught a glimpse of movement. His reflection was there in the black screen, standing while he walked.
It waved.
The next morning, Rebecca's voicemail was brief: "Check the news."
Seventeen people in the city had reported their reflections moving independently.
By noon, it was hundreds.
By evening, thousands.
The mirrors were done pretending.
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521 words
PROMPT: “No matter how cleverly you sneak up on a mirror, your reflection always looks you straight in the eye.” — from Angel Heart (1987)
Written for ""13" (2025 Ed) - CLOSED"  |
© Copyright 2025 Jeff (UN: jeff at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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