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by Zhen
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Contest Entry · #2227953
Flash fiction ghost story
It doesn't look real. I kept thinking the mirror was warped as though by heat. It didn't seem to be cracked, however, the person blinking in the mirror when I blinked just wasn't me. I searched my memory: had I had an accident or plastic surgery, maybe facial reconstruction, that I wasn't remembering?

I kept staring. I blinked hard and stared again. I examined my eyes close up.

“The sun is in your eyes,” Jonathan had said years ago. Was the sun still there?

No. The eyes staring into mine were a flat blue. Pretty eyes, but not mine.

“Who are you?” I asked her, and she asked me. But was there a millisecond delay? “I want me back,” we both said.

Finally, I left the mirror. I put on my coat and hat, stepped outside, locked the door, crossed the street and was narrowly missed by a speeding car. I looked over my shoulder toward the car and there she was, across the street, staring at me.

“Who are you?” I hollered.

“... you” she echoed over the traffic.

I ran away, into the park, with no plans except to just get away. While I was running, I thought of my psychic friend, Jenny. She said she sees ghosts and talks with them, to heal them so they go to their next level, away from the living. I stopped running, reached for my phone, and called Jenny.

“Hello?”

“I need to see you now,” I said.

“I know,” said Jenny. “I see you both.”

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