Morning. Blackness. I should not have been awake at that hour, walking through a deathly silence. I lock the door behind me, just in case. You never know what lurks within the dark. I move over to the mirror to face the charlatan. He is identical, almost. His appearance would easily fool anyone else. Not me. Eyes filled with invisible shadows.

It glared back at me, waiting for my next move. It was my turn, after all, and the charlatan was not a very patient creature. Something snapped. What color there was in the dark seemed to drain away; [we are alone].

I feel hands caress the surface of my mind in a hushed agony, yet their visage remained in place. As did I. My heart began to beat faster, tendrils of fear seeping through the cracks. There is a breach in the hull. I whisper antithesis and riddles. A banshee without a mouth; I hear it scream nonetheless.

My fist shatters the mirror. Blood spills from my hand, the tiles stained red. I shake as the blood rushes through my ears, louder, louder. We both scream this time. Everything spins in every direction. The world snaps back into place… It’s my turn after all, and the charlatan is not very patient. It all comes crashing down.