Submissions open for Beetle Magazine's November Issue

Yours Truly...

Kavya Talwar

Awakened from a blurry haze-
I found myself staring at a mirror.
The vibe was still,
The fragrance was mystic;
I stood there staring at a grim face.

I wore white, she wore black;
My skin glowed, hers was wrapped in blemishes.
The wind blew hysterically-
And whatever covered us,
Flowed in a majestic rage.

Bloodshot eyes glared at me;
Gore covered them, trust covered mine.
She smiled or smirked maybe,
Revealing a morbid display of black teeth.
I stood there-
Quivering, but not flinching.

Her long , diabolic nails,
Reached for her body-
Those sharp , vengeful ends,
Pricked her again and again;
Blood oozed,
She yelped.

Her face contorted,
Mine remained still.
Her head bent back
And neck extended.
The bewail gave goosebumps.
And then....

She laughed...
A breeze collided with the window pane;
She moaned-
A cat's piercing voice disturbed the silence.
I kept staring-
She did not blink either.

I extended my arm to touch the mirror,
She reciprocated-
The flesh and the replica collided.
No reflection remained,
I screamed-
A drop of blood tricked down my face.

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