Reflection

Jordan was an ordinary boy. Sixteen years old, studying to pursue his dreams; he had a group of friends who supported and loved him. He had a family who cared about him, and wanted him to follow his passions. Yet, somehow, he was an ordinary boy. Now, he is nothing more than stains on the ground, a buried mass of decomposing flesh and bones, in his own way, giving life to the planet. The planet which he believes took life from him.

He still remembers that night, the night when he not so gracefully left the Physical Plane. On October 31^st, the children playing had thought it was a cheap joke to spook them. It did not take long for people to gather in a crowd, trying to get a look at the mangled mess that was his body. As he, or rather his soul, had left his body behind, and drifted upwards casually, he thought he would finally be free. Looking up at his house, he had seen his parents faces, horror-stricken by something they could not believe. Looking down again, he saw his friends huddled together; he knew more tears had been shed that day than ever before. How could he? WHY would he? Was it something we did? 

It had been a few days since he arrived in the Astral Plane. It was strangely empty; he had not met a single soul in here. Deciding to pay another visit to The Mirror, he thought to himself, strange, it seems clean for the first time since I’ve come here. Hopefully I’ll get to see God this time. Looking into its depths, he saw only himself, clear as day. Slightly disappointed, he turned around to leave. Hesitating for a moment, he said, “Was I right in coming here?” 

“Maybe”, said a familiar voice. Something was different; it sounded older, wiser even. His reflection had spoken to him, but it wasn’t the sixteen-year-old boy who looked into it. It was the voice of everything that boy could have been. 

“I thought I’d be happier when I came here. Thought I’d escape, but this just feels like another prison. Help me, please.” 

“How would you like me to help you?” 

“I don’t know…” 

“Would you like me to show you how you died?” 

“But I already know how I died. I jumped off the roof of my building, remember? What am I saying? You’re me. Of course you remember.” 

“Of course I remember; just not in the same way you do. Let me elaborate.” 

The image in the mirror swirled and contorted itself, and slowly formed the image of Jordan’s apartment. “What is this?”, Jordan said.

“Well, can’t you see?”

 “Are we…looking back in time?” 

“Precisely.” 

Along came a nervous boy, a look of terror in his eyes. Behind him, his shadow crept along, menacing as ever. Running up the stairs, onto the roof, it seemed to detach itself more and more with every step he took. Standing on the edge, it floated up off the ground. It was no more a mere shadow; it had a body, a face. “Something’s wrong with this mirror. That’s not what happened. That shadow; its-” 

“You.” 

The shadow creeped up behind the boy, a look of determination on its face; on Jordan’s face. It pushed with all its might, the boy fell, and the shadow dissolved into nothingness, as a loud thud and many cracks echoed in the air. 

Jordan opened his eyes. He was no more in the Astral Plane, but back on the roof again. The sun was low, and looking behind him, his shadow made him jump. Catching his balance, he looked at himself. He had a human body again. Not fully realising what had happened, he half-ran, half-tumbled back down the stairs, into his apartment, and locked himself in his room. The mirror on his wall stared back at him. His wide dark eyes, filled with a strange depth, pierced deep within him, and reached his soul. “So, are you happy now?” he heard a voice in his head say. 

“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know! What just happened? Why am I back here? I remember jumping off that roof-” 

“Patience, child. You have been given a second chance.” 

“What? Why? Why would you give me a second chance? It’s not like I deserve it anyway…” 

With a soft laughter, he heard, “You seem to have mistaken a few things. For one, you do deserve a second chance. Everyone does.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Yes. You simply lost hope. That isn’t really an unforgivable crime, you know. As a man wiser than us once said, ‘happiness can be found even in the darkest of times-’”

“‘if one simply remembers to turn on the light.’ Okay, Dumbledore, I get it. What else have I “mistaken”?” 

“Well, you got a second chance. But I didn’t give it to you.” 

“What? Then who did?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” 

Jordan thought silently for a while. “Was it……me?” 

“Yes. It was you.”