Strange Faces: Part 8

“Thank you for calling Mountain Dewp, my name’s Christy, how can I help you?”

“Hi, Christy, I recently purchased some of your product, and I have a little complaint”

Being the most practical of our group, Sancho had convinced me to call the number on the bottle.  To him, the straightforward approach was always best.  If he was in the movie Speed, he would have shot the hostage just like Keanu Reeves, removing them from the equation and taking away the hostage takers leverage, because to him, that was the fastest and most practical way to a solution.  The hostage may disagree, but you can’t argue with results.  Except, probably a world weary police captain, African American of course, who would be forced to suspend Sancho, asking for his badge and gun, until a formal inquiry was completed by Internal Affairs,  all while tiredly muttering “ I'm too old for this shit.”

Too old for this shit, and he still made it through 4 movies.

I'm sorry, that analogy got away from me.  Where was I?

“I’ll be happy to help you in any way I can.”

“Well, you say that.  Just wait.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Well, Christy, it seems that after ingesting some of your, *ahem*, fine product, I am now experiencing events of a supernatural variety.”

“Ah, I see.  How can I help with that?”

“How can you help?  Well, you can tell me how to get rid of ‘supernatural apparitions’.”

“ I'm sorry sir, but I'm unable to assist with that.  We’re not trained in that area.”

“Ok, well, just so you know, I plan on filing a complaint with the Better Business Bureau.”

“That is of course your option, but the warning label on our product will indemnify us from any type of liability.  But perhaps I could offer you some coupons.”

“What the fuck am I going to do with coupons?  Offer my apparition half off his next purchase?”

"I'm just doing my job, sir."

“So were the Nazis, and that didn't turn out well either.”

“What?”

At this point, my brother interjected, “Dude, just hang up.  I'm almost done setting up.”

Turning to my brother, whom I have decided to call, oh let’s say, Buster, I said to the phone, “Listen, Christy, this is pointless.  I'm gonna hang up now.  I would say it’s been a pleasure talking to you, but it hasn't.”

“Well, thank you for calling Mou-“

Yeah, whatever, I thought as I hung up.   “Show me what you got” I said to Buster.

“Follow me” he replied.

Heading outside, we found Sancho in the back yard, putting the finishing touches on Busters plan. 

“What happened on the phone?” he asked.

I said “ I'm getting coupons.  What’s all this?”

  In the middle of the yard was a large circle made of salt.  Four candles were ready to be lit on what I assumed were the four cardinal points.  In the center of the circle was a makeshift altar, made from a disused barbecue grill that had clearly seen better days.  Resting atop the altar was Busters athame, or ceremonial dagger.  In reality, he didn't have an athame, but I had loaned him a freshly dish washed butter knife that I thought would work just as well. 

“Did you just pour salt all over my lawn?” I asked Sancho.  “You know nothing is gonna grow there now, right?”

Sancho said, “It’s a shitty backyard anyway.  Besides, your brother made me do it.”

Turning to Buster, I asked “So, what’s the plan then?”

“Well,” he replied, “first we cast the circle, being inside of course.  That will provide us some protection from any outside forces.  Then we summon Scooter, using this mirror I found in the garage” He pointed to what I guessed was a large mirror covered with a blanket, leaning against a tree. 

“ Wasn't that grandma’s mirror?” I asked.  “We’re not gonna destroy it or anything are we?  Mom will be pissed.”

“No, no” he said offhandedly.  “ I'm sure it will be fine.” Continuing with his plan, he said “finally, once we've summoned the apparition, we simply banish him to a dark oblivion.”  He made it all sound so simple.

I said, “You can do that?”

“Not sure” he said.  “But we’re gonna find out”.

Strange Faces Part 7

scroll down to read the previous installments

“Well, you came to right person” my brother said.

“You’re still a witch, right?  Or a Wiccan, or whatever you want to call it?” I asked.

“ I'm whatever the world needs me to be” he said with a self-satisfying grin. 

 My brother is a modern day witch or Wiccan.  Contrary to popular belief, wiccans don’t worship the devil or practice human sacrifice.  They don’t bathe in the blood of babies or dance naked in the woods.  Ok, maybe some of them still dance naked in the woods, but if that’s what it would take to solve this problem, I think I would rather take my chances.

Where can I find a witch like that?

We asked him to consult on my little problem and he promptly came over, his arms heavy with books.  Unlike in movies, he didn't have to go to some dusty hole in the wall bookshop to get them.  Any spell books or copies of ancient texts could be had at a reasonable price at any Barnes & Nobles.  Usually in the new age section behind the coffee stand. 

“ I'm pretty sure I've got something here that will help”, he said as we exited the bathroom.  Suitably impressed with my lack of reflection he was eager to get started.  To him, this was a chance to move from the shooting range to actual combat.  I wasn't sure how seriously he was taking this, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Settling on my couch, he said “Ok, I'm gonna need some candles, preferably black, salt, plenty of orange juice and maybe some mood lighting if you can manage it.”

“Uh, OK” I said, “Candles we got, salt no problem, not sure about the orange juice though.  What’s that for? You want me to bless it?”

“What? No. What?” he asked confused.

Sancho said, “Don’t ask”.

“ I'm just thirsty” my brother said. “It’s got a lot of calcium.  Good and good for you.”

“Right, right” I said offhandedly.  “Hold on”.

Orange juice.  Apparently, its a magical elixir.

Heading to the kitchen, I opened the fridge and called out, “I got no orange juice, but I got plenty of mountain dew!”

“Yeah, that’s fine, whatever.  Just bring it” he replied.

Returning to the couch, he took the bottle I offered him.

“So,” I asked, “what’s first?”

“Well, first of all we need to---gahhh!”

He spit out the first gulp of soda, saying, “What the hell is this shit?!”

“Mountain Dew.  What’s the problem?” I asked.

“Dude this isn't Mountain Dew.”  Looking at the label, he said, “This thing says Mountain Dewp!”

“What the fuck?”

“Let me see that” said Sancho.

“Yup, its says Dewp.  You've been duped by Dewp”

“Must be a generic brand” I said.  “I bought it at a little corner store downtown.  Guess I wasn't paying attention. “

“There’s a warning label on it.”

“What does it say?” I asked.

Sancho read:

“Warning:  This product manufactured and bottled in Salem, Massachusetts, in possibly close               proximity to dark magic.   May contain FDA approved amounts of evil.  May cause supernatural apparitions.  Do not use if pregnant.  In fact, you shouldn't use this at all.  Throw it away.  My name’s Larry.  They’re keeping us here against our will.  Help! I don’t think John can last much longer.   Wait…they’re coming.

For inquiries, please call 1-888-555-DEWP.”

“Huh” I said. 

“That actually explains a lot” said my brother.

“So what do we do now?” I asked.

Looking me in the eye, Sancho said “Well, call the fucking number.”

JrX

Strange Faces Part 6

(scroll down to read parts 1-5)

Everyone has a ghost story.  Maybe you've seen your dead grandmother.  Or you know someone who knows someone who has seen Bigfoot or been probed by E.T.s glowing finger.   Shadows moving on their own, strange cases of déjà vu, Elvis sighted flipping burgers at a diner in Austin.  You get the idea. 

"Lets go, boys.  I got a gig at Burger King in half an hour."

I know a guy who claims to have seen a Thunderbird once.  For those of you that aren't familiar with the Thunderbird, it’s a large bird, some say as big as a house, that comes from Native American legend.  Its wings describe a thunderclap with every flap, lightning crackling around its eyes; it’s a harbinger of tempests.   Sightings of the Thunderbird can be found all across North America, especially in Texas, some as recently as 2007.  It was around that time that my friend saw the creature.

"..."

He was working at the time as a traveling salesman (yes, they still exist).  One day, he was driving from Kerrville, TX to San Marcos.  The main roads would take him south on I10, thru San Antonio, then back north on I35.  Deciding that the shortest distance between two points was a straight line, he decided to take the side roads, one of which was almost a straight shot between the two cities. 

If you've never been to that part of Texas, its important to know that its all hill country over there.  Not so much on the highways, but definitely on the back roads.  Hill after hill after hill, valleys every half mile or so.  As you climb each hill, the road narrows to two lanes going east and west.  As visibility is limited as you reach the top, the speed limit is only fifty miles per hour.  But this is Texas, where most people treat speed limit signs as a suggestion, so it wasn't uncommon to see cars barrelling over the hills at upwards of seventy mph, dangerously close to catching air and making the Duke boys of Hazard County proud.

It was as my friend was descending a hill that he saw the Thunderbird.  Nestled in the valley in the middle of the road, the creature looked to be feasting on a deer.  Cursing out loud in shock, he slammed on the brakes, skidding several hundred feet, narrowly missing the beast but startling it enough that it immediately flew away, leaving behind its dinner.

Sitting in his car, shocked, his brain was already hard at work trying to convince itself that he couldn't possibly have seen what he just saw.  As he began to drive away, carefully avoiding the carcass in the street, he heard a thunderclap and his car began to shake.  A terrible thud came from above as he realized that the giant bird had landed on top of his vehicle.  There was a screeching of tearing metal as talons larger than a grizzly bear exploded through the roof and the car began to lift.  It didn't take a genius to know that it was going to try to carry his car away. 

Stepping on the gas, there was a brief tug of war before American automotive ingenuity broke free and my friend got the hell out of Dodge, burning rubber and cresting the next hill at top speed, nearly taking flight himself.   

Of course that story couldn't be real.  How could it be?  But the twelve inch talon he pried out of the roof of his car sure looked real.

Like I said, everyone has a story.  Before this all happened to me, the strangest thing I've ever seen was at a Wal-Mart in another city that had its automotive and lawn and garden dept. on the left side of the building instead of the right.  So Sancho and I decided to ask my brother for help, who had a little more experience with this sort of thing.  One time, as he was driving home from work, my brother swears he saw a kangaroo in the middle of the road.  That officially makes him more of an expert than me when it comes to weird shit happening at random. 

As I thought about what I was going to tell him, I had a funny feeling things were only going to get stupider.

Jrx

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Strange Faces: Part 5

(read part one here, part two here, part three here and part four here.)

“Quickly, Sancho!” I cried. “We need a young priest and an old priest!”

Twisting the cap off of the bottle of soda, I began to chant “The Power of Christ compels you, the power of Christ compels you!” as I splashed the window with Holy Dew.

I looked back at Sancho, still seated on the couch, now on his phone.  “Dude”, he started, “I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but this is going on YouTube tonight.”

“The power of Chri-“

“Enough!”

My reflection cut me off in mid chant.

Not knowing what else to do, and running low on soda, I sat down next to Sancho on the couch.

“Alright,” I said.  “What do you want from me?”

“What any caged animal wants” he replied. “Freedom. A life beyond the mirror.  An escape from the servitude of reflection.”

I said, “Freedom? No problem”. I waved my arms expansively and said, “You’re free.”

“Done and done” added Sancho. “I know a guy who can get you a fake ID; we’ll get you a job at the mall, maybe at that pretzel place.  You can get us ten percent off. Your name will be Scooter.”

Mmmmm. Pretzels.

“Who do you know that can get fake IDs?” I asked.

“Just…this guy, alright” he replied. “Look, don’t call me on this shit, okay? I'm just spit-balling here.”

“Silence!” shouted my doppelgänger.

“I want more than just a life. I want what you've never used, what you've never wanted”

“My copy of Twilight that Sancho gave me?” Under his breath, I heard my friend say “go fuck yourself”.

“Your life” said Scooter, the doppelgänger.

I gulped hard.  “What are you talking about?”

“You walk through this world like a ghost” he said.  “You have no purpose, no motivation, and no goals.  You live your life at a bare minimum.  You have the skill and talent to do so much more and yet you refuse.  You play at being confident and self-assured, successfully hiding the fact that you feel worthless and alone in the world.  Your apathy has caused you to push away anyone who might have got close to you over the years.  There are many who would be your friend if you let them, but you choose only one, Sancho, and only because he’s been around more or less consistently for over twenty years.”

“You think you’re laying some grand truth on me?” I said, trying not to appear shaken.  “I know what I am and I know what I’m capable of.  And my apathy means I don’t give a shit what you think.  Besides, if I’m as pathetic as you say, what does that make you?”

“Lucky” he said.  “It’s your lack of belief in yourself that allowed me to be born.  It’s making me stronger even now.”

Indeed, as he spoke, the translucent reflection was becoming sharper, more defined.  I felt a wave of nausea and my vision became blurred.

“I may not be using much of my life right now” I said, my words beginning to slur. “But I’ll be goddamned if I'm going to let you have it!”

“What’s happening?” I heard Sancho ask weakly.  I turned towards him in time to see him vomit on my laptop.

Will the Geek Squad take care of that? I thought.

Geek Squad. For $30 they'll turn on your computer.

“He coming through again,” I managed to say as I moved drunkenly to pick up my laptop.  Vertigo was slowing overcoming my motor functions.  Through blurred vision, I could see that his hand had already made it across the windows barrier. 

Summoning what strength I could, I flung the laptop at the window, screaming, “An Apple a day keeps the doctor away, bitch!”

The window shattered into a dozen pieces, a hollow scream from Scooter as his image was destroyed; the laptop landed with a crash in the bushes outside. 

“That quip made no sense” said Sancho.  “That wasn't even a Mac.  It was Compaq.”

“Whatever” I said. I wasn't listening.  On the floor beneath the window was Scooters hand, flecks of vomit dotting the appendage; the only piece of him that came through before I broke the window.

Turning back to Sancho, I said “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.”

To Be Continued...

JrX

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Strange Faces: Part 4

(read part one here, part two here, and part three here.)

“Dude, you’re a vampire.”

“No, I don’t think so.  I have a reflection, it just kinda…left. Besides, it’s still daylight outside and I’m not burning up.”

Sancho had come over a few minutes ago, with a noticeable lack of mountain dew, and I immediately took him to the scene of the crime.  I could see the emotions march across his face as they must have done on mine.  Shock, terror, confusion and an admirable attempt at acceptance through humor.

“I hope I’m not a vampire,” I said. “I wouldn't really mind, but I would have liked to lose a few pounds before spending my immortal life in this pudgy body”.

He said, “Put that shit down. You’re freaking me out.”

The novelty of the situation had already worn off on me and I figured I could mess with his head a little by picking up random objects and moving them around while saying “ooooohhhhhh”.  My razor had already danced a jig seemingly on its own in the mirror and I had moved on to brushing my teeth.  To Sancho, it looked as if the toothbrush was moving up and down by itself, and foam was coalescing out of thin air

. 

Kinda like this, only no, its not like this at all.

“ I'm going to the living room”, Sancho said.

Spitting into the sink, I followed him, stopping in the kitchen to get a half bottle of mountain dew from the fridge. 

Sitting on my recliner across from him, I asked “So, what’s the plan?”

“Plan?” he replied.  “This is your problem, not mine.  I suggest you burn the house down.”

“No, I can’t burn it down.  I just got settled in.”

“ You've been living here for eight years!”

“Whatever. Keep thinking.”

I knew Sancho would help me if he could.  He just had fuck around with me first.  And maybe charge me. 

I said, “I think we should start by getting some holy water, crosses, shit like that.”

“I thought you said this wasn't vampires?” he replied.

“Hey, how much experience do you think I have with situations like this?  I’m reaching here.”

“Well”, he said, “fuck it.  I guess holy water can’t hurt.  But where are you going to get some? Do they sell that stuff somewhere, or do we have to go to a church?  And what the hell do we tell them if we do?”

“I got that part covered”, I said.  Standing up, I walked across the living room and removed an unframed certificate I had pinned to the wall.  Handing it to Sancho, I said, “Read it and weep.”

“‘This is to certify that the bearer hereof has all rights and privileges to perform all duties of the ministry and been ordained as Reverend’-wait a second.  You got ordained?!” he exclaimed.

“Yup,” I said. “I can’t believe you never noticed that on the wall before.”

“But, asshole, you’re not even Christian!”

“Yeah, turns out that don’t matter.”

Retaking my seat, I said “I got it online a couple of years ago.  Totally free.  Anyone can do it.  Apparently, it’s recognized by all fifty states”.

This is a real thing.

“So,” I continued, “if it’s good enough for Uncle Sam, I'm sure it’s good enough for Jesus.”

I slapped the back of my neck and shivered.  I could have sworn I felt something crawling on me.  Probably the tag on my shirt, I thought as I adjusted my neckline.

“Hand me that bottle there”, I asked.

As Sancho passed over the bottle, I made the sign of the cross and said,

                “In the name of the father, the son, and the holy ghost,

                By the power vested in me by the state of Texas

                And the Universal Life Church of California,

                I hereby declare the liquid in this bottle holy,

                For liberty and justice for all.

                You may be seated.”

Looking over at Sancho, I saw an expression of unbridled awe on his face and smiled with satisfaction.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he said.

Ok, I’m maybe I’m getting mixed signals.

Sancho said “You do realize that you just blessed a bottle of mountain dew, right?”

“Hey”, I said. “Why not?”

One Dew to rule them all.

I shivered. There it is again! I thought.  Little hairs standing on end on the back of my neck.  That creepy feeling you get when an ant or something is crawling on you, all six legs moving lightly across your skin, as if they’re making contact with your very nerves.  A few weeks ago, I went outside to my car, not realizing that a spider had made a web between a tree and my Jeep.  Nearly invisible in the dark, I stumbled right through it and immediately transformed into a six year old girl, slapping at myself all over, hair thin strands of web caressing my arms with an alien sensation, a thousand imaginary spiders ready to burrow into my ears.  I might have peed a little.

“Something’s wrong”, I said.

But Sancho wasn’t looking at me.  He was looking out the window.

“What?”, I asked. “What are you looking at?” Looking myself, I couldn’t see anything that would grab his attention.

“Dude” he said stiffly.  “Not outside. You don’t notice it?”

“Notice what?”

“Your reflection”. He said. “It’s back.”

Turning slowly back to the window, I refocused my gaze and came face to face with my doppelgänger once again.

I will not pee myself , I thought.

JrX

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Strange Faces: Part 3

(read part one here, and part two here. or, if your mouse is working, just scroll down)

*ring ring*

Hello?

Hey, it’s me. Whatcha doing?

Just getting off of work. You?

Oh, you know. The usual.

Getting high?

No...Well, a little.

Yeah, whatever.  You know you should stop that shit.  It makes you paranoid.

Yeah, speaking of paranoid, I might have a little situation here.  I might need your help.

If you shit yourself, I'm not coming.

Actually, -and go fuck yourself, by the way-, actually, some weird shit is going down at my house.  I’m not sure but it may have been built on an old Indian burial ground.

Have you been seeing old Indians?

….no...

Is there a little blonde girl sitting in front of your TV telling you that “they’re here”

…nooo….

Well then, what’s the problem?

(taking a deep breath) My reflection crawled out of my bathroom mirror, attacked me, crawled back into my mirror, and now I have no reflection. 

I see. And what kind of weed have you been smoking again?

Doesn't matter.  Remember all those times we talked about how, if the world ever needed a hero, you would totally be my sidekick?  Well, I think this is it.

I'm pretty sure we never talked about any of that.  What’s that tapping noise I keep hearing?

I'm typing all this down.

What for?

Future generations will want to know how this all went down.  How it started, who was involved, you know.

Wait, I don’t want to be involved in your drug fantasies, Ok?  Leave me out.

Too late. 

(Sighs) Alright, But change my name.

How about Scooter?  I've always wanted a friend called Scooter.

Fuck that.  Give me a cool name. Like Max Power, or something.

Sancho?

What? No, not Sancho.

Too late.  So listen, Sancho, how soon can you get here?

Don’t call me Sancho. 

Just get over here, Sancho.  Bring me some mountain dew.

*hangs up*

Most of us live our lives with blinders on, focusing only on what’s in front of us.  We create our own little world around us.  In our little piece of the world, only what’s in it is real.  The lady on the phone at customer service is just a voice.  Whether we’re rude to her or not doesn't really matter, because we don’t really conceive of her as an actual person.  This isn't because we’re mean or prideful or narcissistic, it’s a defence mechanism.  As human beings, we’re simply not equipped to handle that much stimulus.  Tragic events will occur halfway around the world, and unless you’re George Clooney or Angelina Jolie, it barely registers on our radar. 

Handsome or not, you were a terrible Batman.

Occasionally, however, you will see something or hear something that will bring the entire world into focus and you start to notice things you've never noticed before, no matter how long they've been there.  The first time, as a child, that you see your schoolteacher shopping at the grocery store.  It’s a startling feeling, a shock.  Yes, of course she’s a real person.  But now you know that’s she’s a REAL person, just like you.  Before she was just The Woman Who Teaches.  Now she’s Cindy, mom's  new friend, and she talks and jokes and eats grocery store samples just like you do.  You begin to wonder what else you’re missing, but then you get distracted by a vending machine and your world goes back to its normal size, plus one more person.  Heading out the door, you bump shoulders with a random person and grunt an apology, but it’s Ok  He’s not real like Cindy is.

Just blew your mind.

We all have moments like that, and as I look into the mirror again and notice all the things it reflects that I never noticed before because I was always concentrating on how awesome I looked, the me shaped hole where my reflection should be was all the more disconcerting.  If I wasn't already in the bathroom, I might have shit myself after all. 

JrX

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Strange Faces: Part 2

(read part one here; or just scroll down, don't be lazy.)

“Now listen carefully” he said.

Is that what my voice sounded like?  People had always told me that I had a voice made for radio, but I never really believed it.  Listening now to the silky sounds coming out of my doppelgängers  throat made me think a new career path had just opened up.  

They could call me the Wolfman, I thought.

“Pay attention!”, Mirror Me shouted. 

Shit, I almost forgot he was there.  I should probably describe what I was seeing at this point.  He was more than just my double.  Of course he looked just like me, right down to the Marilyn Monroe mole on my cheek.  Being from what I assume was an alternate dimension, he also had that evil twin goatee, like Mr. Spock had on that one episode of Star Trek. 

Making the  goatee sexy since the 23rd century.

 Then I remembered that I also had a goatee and it kind of sucked the fun right out of the horror.  But after a moment, I realized that the similarities were only superficial.  What came out of the mirror was an exact copy of me in every way.  What was standing before me now was changing in oh so subtle ways.  As I watched, pounds began to melt off of him.  Where I could be described as a bit, cough cough, heavy, my twin was slowly reaching my ideal weight, a thousand Hollywood diets screaming in protest.  The small scar on my hand from a childhood accident was slowly fading away.  Even his hair was changing style, split down the middle in a way that didn't make him look like a complete douche. Bastard.

No longer needed.

“I am the you that you always wanted to be”, he said. “I am you without the fear, without the anxiety and depression you keep hidden from even your own family.  I am the mask of confidence you slip on every day as you look into the mirror, steeling yourself for another endless day of false smiles and forced friendships because you can’t for a moment conceive of anyone accepting you for who you really are.  What I really am.”

Keep talking, asshole. Not that I wasn't listening.  I heard every word; I just didn't think that this was a good time for self-discovery.  There were other, more pressing problems to confront.  Escape came to mind. 

“I am th-gahhh!”  

That last was my attempt at making dick hamburger with his crotch.  Unfortunately for him, but fortunately for me, my position falling backward into the tub left my legs elevated to perfect crotch level.  The bathroom, as small as it is (I think its cozy), had him standing well within reach for a size twelve dick kicking.  Taking the opportunity I created, I scrambled out of the tub, leaving him writhing in what I can only hope was excruciating pain, and headed for the living room.

I need a weapon, I thought. Think.

Get me my boomstick.

Standing in the living room, I began to take a quick inventory of its contents, hoping to see something that I could use to bludgeon an inter-dimensional doppelgänger.  You don’t see tools for that at Sears, you know.  Although it would probably be made by Craftsman.

Ok, lets see.  TV remote. No, its fragile; just looking at it wrong causes the batteries to fall out.  Ok, next.  Laptop sitting on my coffee table.  No, no.  Kill me, but don’t take away my internet.  Day old French fries next to laptop.  Maybe I could feed them to him.  No, wait! Got it!

Rushing back into the bathroom, I brandished my chosen weapon as the knights of old would brandish their swords. 

Holding my back-scratcher ready, I said, “All right motherfucker, get ready for the worst scratching of your life!”  Alright, the knight I was thinking of may have been Don Quixote.  Sue me.

From Bruce Campbell to this fucking guy.  Things aren't going well.

But he was no longer there.  A ripple in the mirror and a scrawled message on its surface told the tale.

“I am everywhere”

I had no reflection.

To Be Continued...

JrX

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Strange Faces

(first part of a short story i've been dicking around with. let me know if you want to see more.)

There’s a thing called the strange face in the mirror illusion.  You stare at yourself in the mirror and after a few minutes, things begin to appear distorted.  You may have experienced this yourself at some point, and some research has been done on the subject.  One experiment done by Italian psychologist Giovanni Caputo, had fifty test subjects attempt this visual illusion.  The experiment lasted ten minutes but the subjects began to perceive the “strange face illusion” after only one.  Descriptions by the participants varied greatly:  66% reported “huge deformations” in their face;  28% described seeing  an unknown person; and 48% described seeing “fantastical and monstrous beings”. 

Not cool.

As strange as this phenomenon is, there have been some attempts to explain it.  One possible explanation is the Troxler effect.  What it is is unvarying stimulus dropped from our perception.  That is to say, for example, if a piece of paper falls on your arm, it is felt for a few seconds before the sensation vanishes.  This principle of unvarying stimulus also applies to vision.  So if you stare too long at yourself in the mirror, your brain will automatically start to cancel out any information that is constant, like, for example, your nose or your lips.  This will account for the “huge deformations” reported by the participants of the above mentioned experiment and even the urban legend of Bloody Mary.  As I look into the mirror now, I realize that this doesn’t account for the “fantastical and monstrous beings” they reported however, or the way that my mirror self raises its left arm when I raise my right.

She knows what I'm talking about.

But I wasn't truly scared until my mirror self winked at me and reached for my arm.

JESUS CHRIST! I thought as I stumbled backwards into the tub.  As I watched in horror, Mirror Me was making his way into the bathroom proper.  Already he was almost half in.  I felt almost sick watching this thing, as handsome as he was, birth itself into my world.  Nausea gripped me and my vision became blurred.  It was as if reality itself was pulsating around me, angry at this intrusion from another world.  As Mirror Me finally came fully into my bathroom, standing over me in triumph, I felt the world snap back into place with a jolt and began to come to my senses.  Almost immediately I heard a strange squealing.  I looked around for the source, expecting to find a frightened child, when I suddenly realized it was coming from me. 

Holy shit, was it trying to talk to me?!

“-…dick hamburger.”, he said. 

 “Whafuck?”, I managed weakly. 

He replied, “I said, don’t move, or I’ll stomp on your crotch till its nothing but dick hamburger.”

Oh. That makes more sense. 

He said, “Now,  listen carefully…”

I dare you.

To Be Continued...

Read part 2 here

JrX

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