He was proud of himself. More so than he had been in a long time. The new home was beautiful, and in it he could see his future before him. On the final day of moving in, they invited all their friends over to celebrate. They all talked, laughed, and drank and shared long into the night. Finally, long after she’d gone to bed, he decided it was time to join her.
The master bathroom was the crowning glory of the home. It was nearly 1000 square feet of heated tile and marble, with a full wall of mirrors behind dual sinks. His side cabinet was also a mirror, perpendicular to the wall of mirrors over the sinks. As he stood brushing his teeth with the cabinet open, he peered into the dueling mirrors, facing off against each other into infinity.
“Infinity is green…” he thought, as he looked at his own reflections shrinking off into the distance, each one growing smaller and greener than the last.
Just then he saw it; or rather thought he saw it. Near where his own reflection grew too small to recognize as him, it was not him at all. The face was charcoal black, with yellow eyes and pointed teeth. It did move with the rest of his reflections, and in fact did not even seem to be awake, but there it was; not-him staring back from a mirror.
He slammed the cabinet shut and crawled into bed with her. He was fortunate enough to write the black reflection, the not-him off as something he’d drunk or smoked that night, and nothing to be alarmed over.
The next morning he woke up with the worst hangover he could remember. It took a full three days for the pain in his head to subside.
Weeks later, after a long day at work and a splitting headache, he let his glass of scotch turn into two, and then three, and then four, and then when she offered a smoke he joined her. Later, as he was preparing for bed, he suddenly remembered the black reflection, the not-him, and couldn’t help his curiosity.
As soon as the mirrors were facing each other and he put his own reflection in, he saw it. It was closer this time, only a dozen reflections away. To his horror, the not-him was moving without his other reflections. It seemed to be chanting, or praying.
The next morning he woke up again with an atrocious hangover, and a headache that would not go away. He initially had written off the vision in the mirror as again something he’d drunk or smoked, but after a week of the same splitting headache he couldn’t get it out of his head. Somewhere between too terrified to look and know and too terrified to not know, he polished off the last of his scotch and went to his beautiful master bathroom alone. He opened the cabinet and looked into the reflections of reflections.
The vision he was met with knocked him off his feet. The black face was closer still… only 4 or 5 reflections away. It was looking directly at him with its yellow eyes and repeating the same phrase- prayer or curse- over and over with a sneering grin over its pointed teeth.
He did not sleep at all that night.
The next morning, he woke up and set up an appointment for a CT scan, without telling her.
The following afternoon, he was standing in a sterile room, alone with his doctor, looking at an image of his own brain… his brain, with a spot the size of an acorn in it that was as black as the face in the mirror.
He didn’t know how to tell her, but he knew it had to be said. He had half of a bottle of wine after work, trying to come up with the words to say. After she’d gone to bed, he finished the other half, and decided to look into the mirrors, the green of infinity, one last time.
His own reflection was gone. The black face with yellow eyes and pointed teeth stretched on into eternity. It was laughing hysterically, roaring even, while screaming the same thing over and over again, prayer or curse.
The next morning he woke up dead.