[artwork by Timo Grubing]

I always enjoyed fishing right before the sun came up, a tradition started years ago with my father. He’s been gone for two decades, but I still carry his old spear with me, despite having moved on to fishing rods. Something about the presence of that steel harpoon comforts me.

When I first saw her, I thought she was a fragment of my sleep deprived imagination. The sun had just started its ascent when the waters stilled. It was then she broke the surface, slow and silent. Large blue eyes stared at me with curious assessment and I blinked, unsure if what I was seeing was real. Before I could get a closer look she’d dipped back beneath the surface, vanishing from sight.

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I’m being haunted by the woman in the mirror. She’s not my reflection, but an entity all onto herself. Something like me, but not quite me.

This madness began two years ago, on my wedding day. Since then, I’ve feared for my life because I know what she wants and what it is she’s trying to do. When we’re in the company of others she pretends, hides her true self by seamlessly mimicking my expressions and gestures. But when it’s just the two of us, she refuses to play the part. Instead, her face contorts into something misshapen and her mouth opens in silent screams as she claws at the surface.

She’s trying to get out, trying to exchange places, trying to put me inside the mirror.

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