Writing Prompt

My eyes are heavy with the nights travel beneath them. A nights travel through the dark mountain passes beyond the Last Spire have sapped my body of what little strength I had left when we left Ettlemont. While my body therms with the descending adrenaline, my heart grows heavier still from the burden in Farrago’s eyes. The trek south has been several hours, and seemingly Farrago’s eyes have looked over his shoulder every fifteen minutes, hoping to see the fires recede and something other than distance to reduce the din of combat from the mountain top. Each passing step has sapped my energy, but soul has been tapped as his strides have carried him away from the home he has known for all the years of his life.
As we break through the mountain trail into the small village of Angler’s End, night is beginning to lose its eternal battle with dawn. The road widens, opening into the center of the village where a man stands by the center fountain, looking up the mountain with arms crossed about this chest. He is tall and gaunt, with salt and pepper hair slicked back into a pony tail down to his shoulder. Dark gaps fill his mouth as his necrotic glow breaks through the dim light of the moon. "A long road sits behind you." His voice gravely and low. I feel it vibrating throughout my body, curdling my skin. "Longer ones stand ahead." "Thanks." I am curt, at best. I thread my arm through Farrago's arm, feeling the heaviness of his step and sunken heart. Again I see him turn over his shoulder to see the red orange bonfire that looms atop the mountain. "Soon there will be nothing left to look back at, boy. Focus ahead instead." I snarl at his gruffness and disregard. Farrago's leg buckle momentarily, but he catches himself. Turning to him, I can see him walking away through the village, waving us in behind him. I hesitate. "Gardy loo, kisas. Yon malchick knows peril." Through the darkness I see on his wrist the faint tattoo of a heart, now faded with time.
I nod to the man, a single finger pressed to the edge of my brow as I do so. A signal between friends of thanks. And I pull Farrago toward the docks aheads.

 Kyah and farrago emerge from the mountain pass into the small village of Anglers End. Much of the village is dark with the heaviness of night long cast over it.  The two travelers arrive unceremoniously into the wide opening of the village square. 
Farrgo runs a stiff neck, but still peers up the mountain over his shoulder. The flickering red orange lights of Ettlemonts incineration casts shadows across his face, and more resolve to be drawn from his body. 
Kyah limps upon exhausted feet. Her arm wrapped beneath Farrago’s, slightly pulling him forward from the mountain. Her face grim, and eyes frenetic in their examination of Farrago’s face.  Dust plooms off of her as she comes to a stop, noting the swarthy man at the center of the square by the village well. 
 Tall and slender, his ratty ponytail seems to ooze night.  "A long road sits behind you."  A silky necrosis slithers between the remaining teeth in his mouth. "And a longer one rests ahead."  Kyah angles herself before the dazed Farrago, threading her arm inside his and accepting the burden of his weight.  Heavy steps make for a long pause as Kyah seeks to place herself between the cad ahead and her companion.
 "Thanks."  Kyah's voice is harsh; standoffish.  Her attention turns to Farrago, noting his lingering glance to the dancing glow of the ravages above.
 "Soon there will be nothing left to look back at, boy.  Focus ahead instead."  Kyah snarls, eyes dashing to the long strides of the man, his voice again filling the air.  A wave of his spindly hands toward the town center, and Kyah's eyes snap to the edge of his wrist, drinking in the sight of a faded black heart.  "Gardy loo, kisas.  Yon malchick knows peril."  
 The last of his cant fall into Kyah's ears, and the tension in her body begins to ease.  The weight of her guard rescinds, and she hastens Farrago's steps towards the dock the rogue moves them toward. 

First Person:

I will never forget the day that I attended a mentalist gathering where I learned about the Mirror Maiden. I remember arriving at the venue and feeling a bit apprehensive about what to expect. But when I was ushered to my seat, I noticed a large mirror in the centre of the stage, which made me feel both curious and uneasy at the same time.

As the mentalist took to the stage, he began to speak about the mirror, summoning it as if it had a will of its own. Suddenly, the mirror began to glow, and out of the light emerged a beautiful woman - the Mirror Maiden.

The mentalist explained to the audience how the Mirror Maiden had come to him in a dream with a message that he must share with others. This was the message of the mirror world, a place where the very nature of reality was redefined. He described how the Mirror Maiden had given him the power to enter the mirror world, a surreal realm of endless possibilities where one could experience an infinite variety of cities, landscapes, and adventures.

The more he spoke, the more fascinated I became. All of a sudden, I couldn't help but feel an urgent need to enter the mirror world myself. The mentalist's description of the different cities and stores within the mirror world captured my imagination, and I longed to explore each and every one of them.

Then, as if by magic, I was approached by the Mirror Maiden herself. She whispered to me words that only I could hear, telling me that I had been chosen to enter the world of the mirror. It was a surreal moment, and I couldn't believe what was happening right in front of me.

But slowly, as I spent more time in the mirror world, I came to understand the true nature of my journey. The Maiden had revealed to me that there was a reason I had been chosen, and that the journey ahead was not without its challenges. Yet with her guidance and the help of my unknown grandfather, hidden in the shadows of the mentalist's world, I knew that I could achieve anything.

Third Person:

The mentalist gathering was in full flow, the audience seated expectantly and a whisper of excitement hanging in the air. The mentalist himself stepped onto the stage, his powerful presence commanding the attention of all who were present.

He began to speak of a magical realm beyond our own, a place where the impossible was not only possible, but commonplace. His eyes glinted with a kind of madness as he described the mirror world - a place of wonder, where nature was limitless and infinite.

As the mentalist spoke, a large mirror was summoned to the stage. Some members of the audience shuffled nervously, sensing that this was no ordinary mirror. And then, emerging from its shimmering surface, was the Mirror Maiden herself.

With a voice as clear as crystalline water, she spoke of a world beyond our own, a place where magic and reality intermingled. The Maiden had chosen the mentalist as a vessel to help others discover this magical world, and she invited them to enter the mirror world and embrace its wonders for themselves.

Many of those present were entranced by the Maiden, their curiosity piqued by her words. Yet as the audience members made their way towards the mirror, they encountered a stern obstacle. The Mirror Maiden had only chosen a select few to journey into the realm of the mirror world.

Only those with a pure heart and a strong will could enter of the mirror - there were no exceptions. Yet for those who were chosen, the rewards were beyond what they could ever have imagined. Cities, landscapes, and experiences unlike any other were waiting for them, beckoning them with a siren call to enter the world of the mirror. First Person:

Entering the mirror world was a surreal experience, one that words cannot fully capture. As I stepped towards the mirror, my mind opened up to the infinite possibilities that lay beyond its surface. The Maiden's eyes met mine, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as if I were on the verge of something truly extraordinary.

As I passed through the shimmering surface of the mirror, I was transported to a world beyond all human comprehension. My senses seemed to be amplified a hundredfold, and every sound, every sight, every smell, was an explosion of sensations that fired my imagination.

The cities were unlike any I had seen before, each one reflecting a different aspect of human experience. Some were brimming with bright colors and sparkling lights, while others were shrouded in a thick fog, lending an almost ethereal quality to their ambiance. I felt like my mind was expanding with each new experience, every step bringing something new and exciting.

But then came the Tower of Song, a place that would end up being a defining moment in my journey. It was shrouded in mist, with the peak barely visible in the distance. The closer I got to the tower, the more powerful the energy around it became.

When I finally entered the tower, I was struck by the sheer vibrancy of the colours within. It was a complete assault on the senses: a kaleidoscope of colors, shapes and textures, that threatened to overwhelm me. Singer-songwriter Leonard Cohen's voice echoed through the halls, plunging me deeper into this surreal dream. On the walls were shelves stocked with records, each with a description of the reality that it represented.

I began to realize the true nature of the mirror world. It was a place where realities blended and melded together in elaborate and surreal patterns, where songs had meaning beyond their lyrics alone. The mirror world was a place where nature, art, and life were all interconnected in the most profound way possible.

But then something strange happened. Suddenly, I was engulfed by a sea of darkness, grasping at me and threatening to pull me down. That's when the Mirror Maiden appeared before me, along with the mentalist and my grandfather. They saved me, pulled me back into the light.

It was then that I realized the hidden complexities of the mirror world, and the dangers that lurked beneath the surface. But I was ready for the challenge. As the Maiden ushered me into a new world beyond the Tower of Song, I knew that I was destined for something truly extraordinary.

Third Person:

Upon entering the mirror world, those that were chosen found themselves in a surreal and strange place. The Maiden's words echoed through their minds, reminding them of the power of the world they now inhabited.

The cities they encountered were a reflection of their hopes, fears and dreams, while the landscapes were a testament to the sheer variety of human experience.

But then the travellers found themselves before the Tower of Song, a landmark that would change the course of their journey forever. The tower was an architect's nightmare, a surrealist nightmare, where lines of perspective twisted and turned, and reality itself seemed to be in flux.

As the travellers gazed upon the tower, they sensed a power emanating from its depths, a force that threatened to envelop them in its shadow if they came any closer. But they stood their ground, knowing that they had been chosen for a reason.

The mentalist, the Mirror the unknown grandfather of the mentalist appeared before the travellers, leading them into the Tower of Song. The interior was like nothing they had ever seen before, a riot of colors, shapes and textures that constantly shifted and changed as they moved through it.

The shelves that lined the walls of the tower were stocked with records, each one containing a description of the reality that it represented. It was then that the travellers realized the true nature of the mirror world. It was a place where realities blended and melded together in intricate patterns, with dreams and memories merging together to create something new and unique.

But the travellers soon realized that within the mirror world also lay dangers. The shadows in the tower were more than just shadows, veiled premonitions threatening to engulf them if they let their guard down. It was then that the Maiden appeared, ushering them into a new world beyond the Tower of Song, a world of untold secrets, of infinite possibility.

The travellers knew that the key to their survival lay in the power of the Mirror Maiden, and they followed her blindly into their uncertain future, ready for whatever lay ahead.

First the spinning pinwheel of death and then the vid shutters to life. “Welcome to sunny Enceladus! I’m Jae-Jun Perez and let show you the wonders of this moon. First colonized twenty years ago for mining this jewel of the night was next cultivated as a land of flowers. “ The video showed a three dimensional moonscape followed by a smiling, greatly surgically enhanced tv personality. The vid screen was engineered to look directly at the viewers. Myrtle mushed the side of Django’s head and he took off his headphones. “Today a peaceful community of humans and Androids work hand in hand to supply the solar system with orchids and rare succulents.” The vid showed the over handsome host festooned with orchids and ghost plants. “Don’t you like ghost plants, DJ?” Myrtle’s voice was over-bright. Django feigned boredom. The video host handed him a holographic grey green succulent. Django blew a raspberry and the plump pale leaves disappeared. The pair sat in silence. “Speaking of flowers upscale houses are popping up like dandelions.” This time Myrtle blew a raspberry. Django looked shocked at his mother and then they laughed. The vid host joined in the laughter. “Moving sucks. Home sucks. Pretty much everything sucks,” Django said. Myrtle hugged him, “True but the good news is that it is all downhill from here.” The vid host in a flowing white shirt twirled on a beach like a maniac.