The End | Ruby H

Can you let me hold your hand,

as I step over this threshold?

And will you promise to walk beside me

while I knit apart my skin from these scraps of thought?

When the only memory that this world has of me is stone,

will you wash the moss from my grave?

And if I return someday,

will you be there?

Will you still sing my song to the birds,

still water my sunflowers,

still sew my horizons to the night?

If I am blind and weak,

would you carry me through the pain,

would you carry me until I can breathe?

Once my bones have scattered in circles,

do I have your word that you’ll rescue my soul from the ashes?

Do I have your word that you’ll stand as the last pillar,

the last smile in the flames,

the last beat of time,

and hold me?

Remember me?

Image Link: (21/01/21)

The Reflection | Anonymous

Every morning. Every single morning. The girl would stand before the mirror, from Monday to Friday she spent this time combing her hair or straightening her tie, she would tuck in her shirt and make sure her uniform looked presentable. On the weekends she may have admired the outfit she had on, or maybe she just sat there, anxiously checking the dark circles under her eyes after getting little to no sleep the night before. The girl spent a lot of her time in front of the mirror; it was where she tried out the makeup tutorials she saw online, it was where she got ready in the morning, and tried on different outfits after a shopping spree. Of course, the reflection loved these times; she loved it whenever the girl came to visit her, and she always greeted the girl with a smile and a wave. However the girl never greeted the reflection, she simply stood there with a blank expression on her face, and then continued with her day as if the reflection didn’t exist at all. Of course this hurt the reflection, and eventually, she grew sour. The reflection started to only greet the girl with a scowl, however the girl still refused to acknowledge her.

After some days, weeks, months of this, in a moment of anger, the reflection broke the mirror. The shards of broken glass stung her hands, and the reflection stared at the girl, maybe hoping for some subtle sign of recognition. But there wasn’t one. The girl simply stared straight through the reflection, at the broken mirror where so many of her days had been spent. It was then that the reflection knew that there would be consequences to her actions. Ever since that day, whenever you were near the girl you could sometimes briefly see the reflection. In puddles and in windows. Trapped. Forced to mimic the actions of this girl she’d grown to hate so much. With an appearance to match that of her worst enemy, even looking at herself made her sick. As the years passed by she found more permanent residences; fragmented glimpses in the diamond ring the girl wore as a symbol of her marriage, or a faint silhouette in the glasses of the girl’s eldest daughter. Then finally in the eyes of those who gathered around the girl’s body at her funeral, right before the coffin closed, when both the girl and the reflection were seen for the last time.

Image Link: (29/01/21)