#WP #WritingProcess #IndieAuthor
I opened my eyes to see a small table and chair across from the cot I was lying on. THe room was cold, painted a pale white with the only variation being the crevices of the mortar between the cement blocks. A mirror was set into one wall while a large steel door was set in another.
“Where am I?” I asked approaching the mirror in the room, hoping that someone was on the other side. “Hello? Is there anyone there?”
I stood there for a moment trying to see through the mirror before I noticed my reflection. What stared back at me was not the memory I had in my head of what I looked like.
I looked at my reflection in perplexed anxiety as the image of a forty something year old man stared back at me. I knew I was only twenty or so, but I wasn’t sure how I knew that. When I reached for memories there was nothing, I knew certain things, but everything about me was somehow missing.
The old man in the mirror was staring back at me with grey eyes that looked concerned. The wrinkles on his face evident and ever shifting as the emotions coursed through me. Every movement I made mirrored by the obvious image that was now whoever I was.
“Please! Someone help me! I don’t know what’s happening.” I said collapsing to the floor as everything became too much to bear. “I- I- I don’t know!”