Tacos to Go and Go and Go

 

He nodded toward the can and I jumped up, believing Justine had had a relapse from the surgery.  “Justine!” I shouted and burst in.  The bathroom’s stale air assaulted me with the corrupt scent of death.  A faint fog blurred the outline of the sink, commode and mirror.  Justine was standing statue-like, transfixed by something in the mirror.  The man had gone, but his reflection hadn’t.  Staring back was a…a something that wasn’t human.  It wore a yellow sweater.

 

The mirror figure lifted a hand — it looked like a hand — and reached through the glass to grasp Justine’s shoulder.  I jumped forward and batted the arm off her, feeling an electric shock numb my body.  Swiveling around, I pushed Justine back to the door.  The figure’s arm flailed through the mirror with tentacle-like fingers, wanting to claw me into its world.  I picked up the nearest weapon, a metal waste basket, and smashed the glass that exploded into shards and a blue flame.

 

I came out drenched in sweat and sucking fresh air.  “Are you totally crazy?” I shouted at Raul.  “There was a monster in there.”





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