Destruction
Shannon Russell writes a creative story for InSITE
L
ooking at the creature I loathed so much, my vision tinted with the red that was anger. There was no one in the house, except me and it, and I knew it would be like that forever.
I hated it so much, the way it moved, the way it looked and the way it seemed to follow my every move. I saw it every day, ugly and patronising. I couldn’t count the days I sat there looking at it as it glared back at me. With a knife in my hand, the desire to kill was strong. Sometimes I stared at it for days.
No longer afraid, I picked up the knife once more and plunged it deep into the creatures’ heart. The smash might have been heard by the heavens, a shard of some unknown matter had penetrated my skin. It was gone, that was true, but a large grey space was left in its place. I asked my friends if they knew what the creature was.
“It’s called a mirror,” they giggled.
