The tiled floor felt so cold on my back. Laying there, naked, I felt each one of the poorly grouted grooves between the square ceramic discs. Slowly I breathed, tasting the stale air, bringing it deeper into my body, holding it and then exhaling. I felt light headed, a bit detached actually, but I couldn't be sure if it was due to the deliberate pace of inhalation or from one of the few inducers I'd taken.

A quick drip struck my forehead. I felt it scatter briefly upon impact and then quickly pull across my pores, rejoining with itself, gaining a temporary equilibrium, but finally giving in to gravity and dragged down the left side of my head to its final destination on the floor. A little dampness remained where it had graced my skull but I tried to ignore it. I was tiring of it. Gazing up I looked at the mirror suspended directly above my head. It too had apparently given in to gravity, the bottom was running down, like a warped Dali painting, stretching, reaching towards me.

So far I'd managed to fight it off, forcing most of it back into its place within the cheap plastic cabinet frame. But I was getting weak. My back was numb from the chill pressing against it, but mostly I had just grown weary of from fighting. The mirror was taking advantage of this, deliberately sending drips down to weaken me, while the rest hung above me waiting patiently. My own warped reflection stared down at me from the narrow surface that faced me, mocking me, waiting for me to succumb. I gazed back into my wavering crooked eyes catching fleeting images of the pain and pleasure trapped within them. The two emotions seemed to slide back and forth, my green eyes suddenly widening in gasping pain, then flicking shut seeming to savor the moment.

Confused I continued to stare into myself, unsure if I was suffering or reveling within the mirror's confines. Another drip struck my face, this time to the left of my open mouth, striking right beside my lip. Having landed on the stretch of drool that was running down my face it struggled to find a grip and raced to the floor barely having an effect on my stamina. This small victory went unnoticed though. My eyes had shifted upwards in the mirror, replaced with a rippling reflection of my open mouth. It stretched down, striving to reach me but I could sense it couldn't reach as long as I fought it. Stretched out so, my mouth appeared to be screaming, its lips pulled back, calling to me with its seductive cry.

I found myself slowly opening my mouth as well, mirroring the mirror. Crying out, welcoming myself. It didn't hesitate. The mirror shot downward, a reflecting waterfall aimed at my awaiting mouth. The gagging came suddenly as the spike fired into my mouth, immediately coating it and pressing down into my throat. I lay there, no longer feeling the cold on my back as it arched upward, my head pressed to the tiles from the force of the mirror's assault. My mouth filled faster than I could swallow, my tongue rolling back as some of the silver spilled over my gurgling lips, filled with my own essence. My body convulsed, choking on myself. Relaxing now, trying not to fight myself, letting us take control of our mouth, for the first time tasting us as it remained in my mouth, closing our throat, stealing the last of our air.

Realizing too late, as our eyes slid shut, just how foul we tasted.

Copyright 2000 Harry Raden

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