Faith in the Mirror

It is said, "Life blows like a wind, with no signs of direction of where." I thought before that it would make me happy, but I was mistaken, greatly mistaken. I should not have leaped, the leap of faith.

Five years have passed, yet everything was still fresh and tears-flooding. How could I forget the memory of loss which yields unexplainable dementia on me?

All I could remember was the banging, scraping of mystic nuances in the middle of the night. The sound was creepy-odd but very enchanting that I couldn’t resist the snooping. I was captivated and under controlled, but not conscious of it. I grabbed a handful of sugar, not even knowing where to use it. I continue walking in wonder until the door freely opened as someone swoops it. I suddenly raise my arms, the one with a handful of sugar, and sown the sugar in levity. I was stunned. The sugar floated in the air like atoms of a molecule, then moving atonally in a spiral way.

“What the hell?”

I’m starting to convulse, and fear took in my whole body. A voice then echoed softly, “She is nothing…No good and use…Dumb and Pillock…Shit…Fool…”

I didn’t understand, “Whose nothing, useless, dumb, shit and fool?”

Not until I reminisced my nemesis, who never cause me any good things. Those who always told me I was special, insanely one in every way, but nothing was extraordinary in me. Life for me is nothing, but chaos and prejudice where constant battles are always in my way, unceasingly rising. Mom and Dad died in my childhood years; I didn’t even have the chance to know them personally. They were anonymous to me like a river meeting up the streams in oddity. I live by myself, no relatives, just one last descent of Ace family. I couldn’t even make friends, even one friend, but enemies I can, even thousands. One is just a brainer for me.

At school, everyone calls me Psyche, a beautiful but very cold and sublime introvert who never cares about anything. Psyche was extremely beautiful that the Greeks labeled her as the “Goddess of Beauty” than Aphrodite. Aphrodite became jealous, so Psyche suffered greatly out of her insanity.

I felt I was like that, beautiful but indifferent to others. Sometimes, I think of myself like a flower in the wild, very appealing that I fanatically lured everyone to hate me. Like a moth to the flame, bringing total destructions to myself.

After moments of remembering, the sugar turned into bowls of symmetric flora that caught my attention. The pieces of dust caramelized into a tinting bath of light that shivered my retina to usurp in pain. Then a clear mirror showed in front of me, resonating soft gallant voice, “Dreams are dreams. Be the change that you wish to see in the world.”

“Gandhi! Is that you, Mahatma?” I exclaimed in spontaneity.

“No less than Gandhi, I am Fate,” the Mirror replied in an omnipotent whisper.

The mirror was circular and very interesting because it oscillates rains of colors like the appearance of Northern Light in the sky.

“Uhm, Fate. What are you?” I asked trembling.

“I know you, Clare. The pain, the scorn, the curse, and the malice that they have brought to you. Would you deny their malice, deceit, and scorch?”

As Fate orates, the mirror in front projected experiences, my bad experiences. I saw my mom and dad standing breathless. They were standing like the dead. The figures faded, I next saw Michel frowning at me like the look of a lion, so fierce and taunting. Everything I had seen was my worst. Those memories that I want to drown into water and bid into a farewell. I felt uneasiness and my emotions are getting harder to control inside of me. I can almost feel that my heartbeats are beyond my grasp. The tears in my eyes are slowly cradling in my eyelash and oozing a mint mood in my rosy skin.

I then suddenly uttered, “I am alone…cold and dim,” but then a voice just exclaimed, “No, you’re not. Take a look at below.”

I bowed my sight down, and I saw beautiful new sprouts of fresh reddish flowers. I don’t have any idea what flower that is. As I bent my knee, I was surprised. The color is vibrating a gradient descent of simulating colors, and the petals were soft like baby skin. As the colors mimic in tones of color, a sweet-sounding lullaby is pitched. I then recognized it was like the sound before, the creepy but enchanting hum.

“Those flowers are your past. The most beautiful flower in our life is the flower of the past. These are exceedingly precious and only a few can see them in the mist. The sounds are sweet and soulful because the growth is hard and rigor as your progress is hard,” Fate solemnly said.

“How are they precious?” I asked in wonder.

“Those who could see them are gifted of the Fate Prophecy: The erring shall find rest in the meadow of their mirror. Right now, this is your mirror. In this mirror, lies your past, present, and your future. The Prophecy is not just simple as it is.”

The flowers were getting omnipotent in view as they wavered their angelic leaves and petals. The sounds were becoming unfathomable in the sense that I cannot almost hear the nuisances outside.

“Why me! I mean, Why?” I deliriously uttered

“You have an impetuous tragedy, the biggest tragedy that the world has ever known next to Oedipus Rex. You have the chance to change their lives or your life. One choice will bring destruction.”

“The choice is within, not outside. Opt,” the last word echoed in woe.

My life will surely change once I enter that surface, but I don’t know how it will detour. Happiness, family, friends, and life? Will it be there, or will it just be there?

But, all I know is that all will change, and I will change.